Pick Up Lines

The trigger for writing this piece is a news snippet I read today. According to a UK based newspaper, George Clooney wooed his girlfriend Amal Alamuddin, by e-mailing flirty messages, including a message that said, ‘The world’s hottest man should meet the hottest human rights lawyer’. Which means that pick-up lines are not an exclusive preserve of teens and tweens. Being of incurably curious mind, I can’t stop but think what Diggs said when he was wooing a pretty journalist. ‘Mein Nahin Hum’. Or ‘Now that I’ve met you, I’ll cancel my shaadi.com account’.

If I go back in time,  the rules of wooing have changed dramatically. In the Bollywood obsession phase, much before the arrival of Facebook or Whatsapp, film songs did the job of pick-up lines admirably. Interested parties would send radio requests or hum a few lines commenting on the depth of those eyes, or the beauty of that lethal smile. In the absence of a virtual world, there was no choice but to muster enough courage and say, ‘Can we be friends?’ All the while protecting one cheek, and preparing to flee in case the girl decided to take off her sandals. Because prior to Facebook, friendship request actually meant, can we go on a date? In some cases it also meant, will you be my wife and the mother of my children?

Regardless, most women would agree that pick-up lines are tacky and cheesy. Any intelligent woman will hate that a man actually thought a pick up line would work on her. So why use pick-up lines?

The basic premise, I think is Hasee To Phasee. But a lot depends on who is saying what and where. The context. The setting. The chemistry. The intent. Introductory pick-up lines backfire unless the chemistry is already working. The ones with sexual tones are a big No-No. Expect one tight slap if you begin with a, 'Hello. Your place or mine?' 

Coming back to my favorite topic, the political seducers and seducee are ready for bed hopping. The BJP, I hear is wooing allies to boost the numbers in the Rajya Sabha. Since the top brass is busy placating egos, may I suggest some pick-up lines to woo alliance partners. Why, even their own sulking women folk can be manaoed with ‘Is it hot here or is it just you?’Sush Ji would be more than happy.

For AIDMK :

They say friendship starts with F. I think it starts with J.

For BJD:

I will never let you fall. Because I have a band-Aid for you.

For TMC:

You are like a candy bar. Half sweet, half nuts.

For BSP:

Baby, you shouldn’t get your statues erected. It’s messing with perfection.

(If the BJP get less than 200)

For AAP:

Your broom just swept me off my feet.

For RAAP( Rakhee Sawant’s Party - I am sure she is winning):

Baby, you are like Gillette. The best a man can get. 

Image Courtesy: Google Images

Summer Time

Good old days, they say, are nothing but a myth created by those who can't remember them anymore. I don’t think my memory is a cause for concern because I remember my kindergarten friends, even though I keep forgetting my relatives. Since we are talking good old days in the month of May, I am reminded of my childhood summer vacations.

Among the smaller pleasures of life when growing up was the time spent during summer holidays. Summer meant hill stations, vacations and relations. Summer also meant that laziness found respectability. Despite the excruciating heat, absence of power, and air conditioners - summer holidays of the eighties were good fun. Is it because we were kids? Because when we don’t feel the heat, we are either too happy or too young! Or is it because nostalgia comes dressed in wistful clothing? Perhaps remembrance has colored my memories with shades that never existed in the first place. Perhaps all of that, and more. 

Regardless, my summer holidays came marinated with the hope of relatives coming over for an extended period of stay. And relatives meant distant cousins, their cousins and even their neighbors. While mother fretted about extra hours in the kitchen, a visit by the grandparents or a visit to the grandparents, was a bonanza for us. Happiness rested neither in a new i Pad, nor in a touch phone but in the simple joys of meeting your favorite cousin. And chatting long after everyone had dozed off. Who among us didn’t enjoy those lazy hot afternoons?

And when parents indulged in afternoon siesta, it was time to indulge in forbidden activities. Conduct our own experiments. I remember pouring kerosene in the back yard water tank, and igniting it to check flammability. When mother woke up, she noticed that my right eyebrow was missing. Fortunately, the face remained unharmed. I did get an earful, but escaped spanking.

The evening activities of playing board games were a symbol for family unity, seeking somehow to signify that a family that spent holidays together stayed together. So whether it was dicing mangoes for dozen odd relatives, playing ludo with cousins or counting the number of fireflies on the Shisham tree - every activity brimmed with pleasure.

Back then, summers were more about passive learning without trying too hard. Even though there were music lessons, skating escapades and painting attempts, the absence of deadlines made sure that leisure reigned supreme. However, leisure activities for children in Gurgaon are not so leisurely anymore. The other day, my ten year old neighbor was fretting about not completing her story for a creative writing workshop. The girl's mother had enrolled her for etiquette and dining classes too. “Don’t worry,” I said. “It’s only a hobby class. You can complete the story next week.” 
“No, I have to finish it today,” she rued. “Otherwise, I won’t get my certificate.”

Living in a competitive digital world, it is not difficult to understand why the idea of creative leisure is unacceptable today. As we progressed, we realized that there is logic and purpose in everything. In a world where time is precious and competition aggressive, it is the extra edge that separates the winner from the second place. So children need to know more, and learn more in order to survive the competition. After all, winning is everything. At one time summer vacations were all about leisure, hobbies, visiting relatives and laid back fun. But today those ideas are too boring and old-fashioned to be considered. That laid-back world does not exist anymore. Not in Gurgaon. Bryan Adams knew when he sang:

Standin' on your mama's porch
You told me that it'd last forever
Oh, and when you held my hand
I knew that it was now or never
Those were the best days of my life

Oh, yeah.
Back in the summer of '69, oh.

 This is an edited version of the original article that was published in Gurgaon Times, The Times Of India, 8th May, 2014.

Dance India Dance

The world is watching our dance of demo-crazy. And I am not talking about Kevin Spacey doing the lungi dance at IIFA, or  John Travolta showing his signature steps with Priyanka Chopra. Across the country, people have put on their dancing shoes, and are swaying to the electoral beats. From hip-hop to salsa, from ballet to belly dancing, and from tango to twist – every move is synchronized by way of political symbolism.

Which is why Priyanka Gandhi is performing a solo ballet act, after her brother was unable to enthrall the audience. In sync with aggressive sound bites, her moves have captured the imagination of a hyperactive media obsessed with sensational dance forms.  Ironical how the media follows the first family like a love stricken puppy, but questions dynastic politics in their studios!

Meanwhile actor-politician Chiranjeevi was showing his pompous moves by jumping the queue at a polling station when a techie  politely told him to wait for his turn. The audience broke into a rapturous applause. And an embarrassed Chiranjeevi realized what the dance of democracy was all about.

 Another sixty-seven year old politician, known for his irrepressible tongue stunned everyone with his irrepressible, well, umm… twerking. His B-boying inspired such yuva josh, that his contemporaries are now taking classes on how to ‘jive with journos’. 
 Moving on, we know that AAP’s detests Modi ji”s aerial act in Adani’s aircraft, but wonder what they have to say about Modi Ji’s octogenarian mother alighting from an auto to cast her vote. It definitely takes two to tango, be it Ambani-Adani, or Rajnath-Modi, but Kejriwal takes this dance of demo-crazy to another level. Before showing his moves, he first asks the people, “Should I dance from here?” And regardless of the answer he breaks into a righteous step. Currently, he is swaying to the tunes of Chora Ganga Kinare Waala, of course, minus Zeenat Aman.

Since all his contemporaries were perfecting their dance moves, Farooq Saab took to the dance floor ‘Paso Doble’, Latin style. Playing the aggressive matador he said ‘those who vote for Modi should drown in the sea’. While we know that the red cloth was for the saffron brigade, I wonder if age has something to do with the fetish for this foot-in-mouth step. My doubts were quelled when a quiz master displayed his dirty moves by calling Modi a butcher of Gujarat. Now Derek is not a dancer, not anymore than Farooq is a belly dancer. So why did he dance like nobody’s watching? Perhaps he thought ABCD padh li bahut, ab karunga mein gandi baat.

Ever since Arun Jaitley announced his candidature from Amritsar, he is speaking Punjabi, doing bhangra and watching Luv Shuv Te Chicken Khurana. Don’t be surprised if you see him  gyrating to “I to go crazy ke jab vazde Punjabi wedding song”. Meanwhile Jayalalitha is quietly practicing her Rumba to beat Mamata at her own mercurial tandav. 

When the music reaches a crescendo and this dance fest culminates, we shall see a fusion performance by various artists. The winner might surprise us all. Regardless of who wins the trophy, choreographing a billion steps is going to be a daunting task. 

 Image Courtesy: AFP News

Sole Satisfaction

A woman, they say, can carry a bag, but it is the shoe that carries a woman. When it comes to footwear, women are perhaps the most obsessed creatures on planet earth. Yes, we are shoe-holics suffering from acute Imelda Marcos syndrome. While men buy shoes when they need them, women buy shoes for pleasure. And this shoe fetish comes naturally to every woman and her mother.  Sometimes I wonder if estrogen has some karmic connection with straps and soles. Whoever thinks I am talking rubbish, never wallowed in the misery of not finding a comfortable matching pair for that red dress.

It is not mindless, this fetish of ours. We need  Mojaris for salwars, chappals for churidars,  wedges for trousers, stilettos for dresses,  boots for winter, flip-flops for daily use, pumps for travel, shiny thingies for weddings and ballerinas for…well, for change. All because the sole of the matter is about  soul satisfaction. The entire exercise of trying several pairs, leaving the shop floor like a war zone and fretting about the size add to the feeling of satisfaction. Women don't buy shoes, they buy feelings. 

Sometimes it is not about buying or owning. Even the act of window shopping can be exhilarating. How do I explain this? Let’s say, that the anticipation of the joy of buying footwear can be more joyful than the actual buying. Like the thrill of looking at a sports car. Of course you want to own it, but the mere  thought of owning can be joyous. You know what I mean? It’s like a sensation as nebulous as air. You can’t see it, but you can feel it.
Needless to say, a new sexy pair  makes us feel tall, poised, and confident. So even if we are a five feet nothing - in heels, we stand tall. Like Alia Bhatt, reveling in the joy of being a woman. And unlike unread books or unworn silk, unworn shoes do not hurt our conscience. Thank you. We are like this only. 

As I watch those eight inch golden pencils, a feeling of sadness  blankets me. A decade ago, I could handle those minarets with great elan. Today, I carry high heels in the car and wear them only when I enter a party. It can be difficult for men to grasp this, as they can pretty much wear the same shoe at eighteen, at forty and at sixty. 

After deciding to hell with repenting the lost years, I move ahead to look for short heels. But each time I wander in a shoe shop, the look on my husband’s face is like Rahul Baba’s look when asked about the country's monetary policy. Or the look on my maid's face, when she is cleaning the balcony and watching pigeons indulge in weird sex. Flabbergasted. Gobsmacked. Clueless. Totally. Why?

The husband is not able to fathom what the hell his wife is thinking when she saunters in a shoe shop. Anyway, shopping for him is as much fun as watching the grass grow. Sometimes when his cup of woes runneth over, he gently asks, “The one you are wearing is not comfortable?”
That is when he gets the ‘Look’. Those who are married know what I mean. The Look essentially means – you won’t get the logic dear. Comfort has nothing to do with it.
And then, I lie dramatically, “Yeah, it hurts. Here."

On one of those rare occasions when he is really pissed, he quips, “Why don't you to wear your walking shoes while shopping.” At which point, I take a deep breath and begin - ten, nine, eight, seven.... “Darling, why don’t you check out  the Samsung store. I'll join you in a bit?”
It works. Nine on ten. 

Today, when when I was looking at my paltry shoe collection, the husband was watching cricket. During an ad break he casually asked, "The one you bought today is similar to the one you already have?" 
Ten, nine, eight, seven.....Deep breathe.
"It is as different as IPL7 and  IPL 6. "
Silence.
At this point, you might want to hurl sole searching quotes like, I wept because I had no shoes, until I saw a man who had no feet.  
I know. But I am no monk. Okay? And I own much less than the worldwide average of fifteen pairs women own. So there.

On the Hot Seat

It was my first interview at Times Wow TV. With several video cameras, microphones and the bright lighting, the newsroom was overawing. I was nervous. The man interviewing me was none other than the editor-in-chief.

“I have met ten other men who want to be News Editors," he asked point blank. "How do I know you are different?”

"Sir, I want to do stories that go beyond the superficial. Stories that analyze, compare, and report facts without any bias. Stories that really matter.”

He gave me an assessing look. “So what kind of stories really matter?”

“Sir, like a story on farmer suicides,” I said righteously. “I also want to end the shrill activism on television channels. I want to focus on who-did-what, and not on, who-said-what.”

Silence.

"Yeah. You could do that. And watch the channel close down." Then he straightened his back and began. “Let’s say, you run a food stall. What will you sell? Healthy dal with low salt, or tasty chaat?

“Umm...but journalism is not like selling chaat.”

His eyes glittered in anger but his lips were smiling. “Really? So you don’t want a pay check? No?”

“No. I mean, yes. Yes, I need the money. I have ambitions and all.” I was trying to be brave in a bid to quell the rising panic in my belly.

“Let’s say, you come back after a stressful day at work. You pick up a magazine. The magazine has an interview with Raghuram Rajan about his monetary policy, and some semi-nude pictures. Which one would you look at first?

Beetroot red. “Sir, what are you saying? I am a responsible journalist.”

“So, Mr. Responsible. Are you on Facebook? Twitter? Why do you think Twitter is so popular?

“Err…Sir, I follow you on Twitter. I also sent you a friend request.”

Ignoring  my comment he continued, “Twitter is popular because people want to talk about individuals. Follow them. Because news is ephemeral. Transient. Pick up the juiciest sound bite, chew it. Throw it. What trends today, fades tomorrow.”

“I see but...”

“You see nothing. There are more than 400 channels today. Most are owned by politicians. So naturally, the stories are biased. Moreover, a story needs to be told. And then, the same story needs to be sold," he said. " I can also make documentaries on tigers and female foeticide. Will you watch them?"
Adjusting his spectacles, he said, "Eye balls. We need eye balls to survive the competition. To generate the revenue. Young man, there is no channel without the viewer. And indeed, there is no viewer without the channel. You know what I mean?" 

I nodded. 

He continued. "Look, sometimes we have to create a feeling that things are wrong. Horribly wrong. Create a demand for dissatisfaction. Let the outrage flow. And outrage flows unhindered in the absence of focus or detail. I don’t enjoy heckling or interrupting guests. It is the viewer who enjoys it.”

He then shrugged and got up to leave. “Do all the stories you want young man, but remember - words over action, individual over issue, controversy over content. Sibling rivalry over substantive issues. Politics of hate over politics of ideology. Missing wife over missing policy.” Smiling, he added, “And you get your pay check at the end of the month. Find the wife and you get double.”

Whoosh. My  idealistic notions were flushed  away by reality.

I began packing my bags for a pilgrimage. Only to realize that most of my peers were doing that - finding Jasodaben.


Read an article by Rajdeep Sardesai on this topic  Here

Image Courtesy: Google Images

Abki Baar, Akshay Kumar

Fully Faltu - This is a David Dhawan post

The Election Commission clinched a partnership with the nation’s conscience keeper, Aamir Khan, declaring him a National Icon. According to the news, they even recorded a video-audio campaign where Aamir urges people to vote ‘ethically’. Consequently, Aamir joined the exalted company of another legendary national icon - Abdul Kalam.

 

Then Aamir featured in a mischievous AAP poster depicting Arvind Kejriwal, Aamir Khan and Abdul Kalam with a label showing AK1, AK2 and AK3 respectively.Though Aamir denied supporting any political party, the controversy raised doubts over declaring Aamir as a national icon for the General Elections.

Meanwhile Aamir's Bollywood friends sensed an opportunity in troubled polity. Each time Aamir is feted, most of them get a rash. Who doesn't want to be a national icon? Being sensitive to any number race, the top AKs of the film industry came together to reclaim the title of National Icon - AK1.


Anil Kapoor (ruffling his hair): If the EC really wanted AK as a national icon, they should have contacted my secretary. After all, I am the original AK.

Akshay Kumar: Really? What do you know about politics? Do you know that the current poll slogan is -  Mein Khiladi, Tu Anari. Ab Ki Baari, Atal Bihari.

Anil Kapoor (surprised) : Bakwaas karta hai. Arrey, Atal ji is not even contesting this time. This time it is Advani ji. Plus, I  shook hands with Steven Spielberg. Does that not count for anything?

Akshay Kumar: Excuse me? If you have done foreign flicks, I have done foreign chicks. Errr..I was referring to cooking chicken  in Bangkok. But Boss, kuch bhi kaho, I am the real AK1.

Anil Kapoor: Huh? That reminds me. At least my name is original. Weren't you originally called Rajiv or something?

Arbaaz Khan (jumps in): I am not so imagining this. Being the producer of the highest grosser, Dabangg, I am the real AK. Arrey, even my director was AK- Anurag Kashyap. Plus my wife was a judge at the current Miss India pageant. And she pouts and poses even when she is brushing her teeth! Beat that!

Akshay Kumar (snaps his Dollar baniyaan): So? My wife is the daughter of Rajesh Khanna, a Lok Sabha member. Politics runs in my family.  

Anil Kapoor: Rubbish. Even Sonam wants to enter politics. So? Doesn’t seniority count for anything?  (ruffles his hair and tilts his head on one side) Jhakass.

Arbaaz Khan (shaking his head): You can take Anil Kapoor out of Bollywood to Hollywood, but you can’t take the Lakhan out of Anil Kapoor! Seriously, if seniority is a benchmark then veteran actor, Ashok Kumar should be declared AK1.

Arjun Kapoor (joins the discussion) :  Ha ha...the old Ashok Kumar?  Imagine him singing, 'Mere Sajan Hain Us Paar, Main man Maar. Abki Baar Modi Sarkaar'. Oldies, look at me. A young AK for a young nation?

Anil Kapoor: Shabash mere cheete! The title stays in the family. 

Akshay Kumar:  I'll tell you why one political party will never accept you. Because you insulted Chai-wallahs in Slumdog Millionaire.

Anil doesn't get the connection. But hearing noise, Aamir Khan walks in.

Aamir Khan: Calm it guys. As a national icon, you have to ask people to vote ethically. It is not about taking sides or coining slogans. Why don't you read the constitution first? Better still, go ahead and vote on April 24, 2014.

Anil Kapoor: Read the constitution? Vote? On April, 24, I am in Tampa Bay, attending the award ceremony, IIFA.

Akshay Kumar( cheesy grin): I am busy with Dostana 2. But how does it matter?  Koi bhi sarkaar,  Desh Ka Star to Akshay Kumar. 

Image: www.concoction.in (Google Images)

Wholesome Entertainment

Image

When Kejriwal emerged after taking a dip in the holy Ganges, he told reporters that the country will face re-elections in 2015. According to him, “That is when our country will be free from the clutches of Adani and Ambani.” So in 2015, after re-elections,  Adani, Advani and Ambani will all sink in the Ganges along with another person whose name also ends with an ‘I’.
 But if BJP wins in 2014, “Sir, yeh desh nahin bachega.” I am not saying this, Kejriwal is. 
Considering how hot he looks in that chequered towel, I believe him. Basically this means that we are in for uncertain times. No jobs. No growth.

But why crib and be called a pessimist? So what if we are all in the gutter for now? We can always look at the stars. If we really focus on the bright side, there is a lot to cheer.

Social service is in the air. Those like Paswan who believed that the man with an amazing voice modulation was Hitler, have suddenly realized that he is, in fact Mother Teresa. All in the name of social service. In the election season, everyone wants to give back to the society – KRK, Rakhee Sawant, Mahesh Manjrekar and Manoj Tiwari to name a few. Making people laugh is also social service, which is why Ms Sawant came dressed as a cucumber.

Taking cue from the spirit of social service initiated by Rabri Devi, the wives of tainted politicians are ready to jump in the electoral fray.Some families have life long devotion to social service.

www.ianslive.in

Never Say Die Spirit abounds. In the entire election hullabaloo, we discovered our own James Bond – Amar Singh. No, his tryst with dusky long legs has nothing to do with my calling him James Bond. If you think this analogy is flawed, you should know that Sean Connery returned to playing the Secret Service Agent, in ‘Never Say Die’, after 12 years. Rising like a phoenix, our desi Bond (no physical comparisons please, can’t you look beyond the ephemeral?) joined Rashtriya Lok Dal, along with his Prada carrying Bond girl, Jaya. And like other secret agents, we don’t know what or who Amar Singh stands for.

Out on bail for cash-for-vote scam, Amar finally found his calling in the company of Ajit Singh. Ek Amar, to doosra Ajit – invincible. Which means maximum bargaining power at the time of ‘stallion trading’. And those who thought Amar was done and dusted after he fainted at a Dubai airport can go watch ‘Die Another Day’.

More good news. Several family dramas are playing in your nearest theatre. One is playing in Tamil Nadu where son Alagiri was expelled by his shady daddy, I mean daddy in shades. There is Sadhu Yadav (such an apt name, I tell you) contesting against his own sister, Rabri. The once loving sister is now calling estranged Sadhu bhaiyya 'Dushman'. 
Another riveting spectacle is being played in Nainital, where N D Tiwari accepted his son after a long legal battle and a DNA test. Taking a cue from Kejriwal’s style of asking the public, Tiwari wants the people to decide whether  his son should contest from his political seat. Indeed, a positive development for participative democracy!

www.hindustantimes.com

This election season is all about glamor and entertainment. So what if Pawan Bansal, the clean candidate from Chandigarh, gets your goat? Believe me, he knows a lot about goats. But forget goats, residents of Chandigarh are enjoying the battle of dimples between Gul Panag (Bullet Rani - she rides a Bullet) and Kirron Kher (muse for all Surajmal Pannalal Jewelers - can carry loads of precious stones). 

Let’s come back to AAP and health benefits. With Kejriwal in the picture, I don’t need my daily dose of Sudoku. By the time I am able to make up my mind about AAP, Kejriwal goes ahead and does something which makes me re-think.

All in all, no one is missing the IPL entertainment. After Salman and Ranbir, who would have imagined that the humble towel will find a new muse in Kejriwal. Like the current 'hope rally' on the sensex, I am optimistic. 
Those who wish to sing, always find a song.  
Which one do you like? Jab Se Tere Naina or Jaye Jaye, Ek Baar Jo Jaaye....