stuck in my head

Does it have to always be fair?

2009-04-09T08:51:00.000-07:00

So, this is how a simple (relatively speaking, of course) shopping exercise can take frightfully frustrating turns to being insightful. It isn’t like I was oblivious to our sub continental obsession with “fairness”, but today’s incident made my heart ache.
Here I was at the mall, looking for some make-up products (read foundation, compact or mineral powder, ladies) to suit my complexion. With a great deal of pride, I will state that I am “wheatish”, “dark”, “dusky”, whatever you feel comfortable saying and stating. Fortunately, I am an individual who for long has known that brown is very beautiful but I can’t say the same about my countrymen. And women. Cutting back to the scene, I get assaulted at the counter by these saleswomen who dab spots of foundation on my arm, not one, not two, but three shades – all much lighter than the ones they should have tried. I gain control over the situation and draw my hand bag, all while vigorously shaking my head to register disapproval. “Madam, try this finish, it will look wonderful on you…splat!” “Isn’t this is a little light?” “Oh no, no, not light, it is bright.”
That’s right, the word's BRIGHT. I got around to biting my lip and explaining to the girls that the purpose of a foundation was NOT to make it look like you had any product on. *Blend, lovelies, blend like magic.* It was not an easy exercise and they did look at each other like I was a little batty but I came away with the product I wanted. *Aside, I love L’oreal’s True Match. Woohoo.*
Did I mention that these girls were as dusky as I am or perhaps a shade or two more? That’s the tragedy. All through their lives, they’ve been made to believe that being what they are is just not good enough. Stop buying fairness creams, stop bleaching your face, stop applying social pressure on your children or peers to look fairer. I beg of you.
Brown is bright. Brown is beautiful. Embrace it.

Sach is the game.

2008-12-15T09:20:00.000-08:00

I was there. Right there, in flesh and blood to see my team chase down the fourth largest total for victory against a spirited English side.

The belief set in last evening, right after a session on Day 4 where inane messages on the big screen seemed a tad more interesting than watching England struggle to switch gears and set us a target. Little after tea, Chepauk, India, the world at large, was given a glimpse of the greatness that is Virender Sehwag. Several comparisons have been made between the man and other ‘slog hitters’ but with this innings and a few other notable ones, he has proven once again that in his league he remains the sole occupant. It really was not about keeping a tally of the number of times the ball was ‘against the fence’, quote unquote David Lloyd (Incidentally, I happen to think he’s amongst the funniest on air and I’m nursing a small crush on him.) It was about comprehending the simplicity of his approach, to set aside the ifs-buts-maybes and focus, quite simply, on just the positives. It’s something I have never managed to achieve so I continue to let my jaw hang in awe.

He did get out, but, not before setting India within sights of a famous, famous victory that would put to rest the ghosts of ’99.

Day 5 did dawn, bright and sunny (so much for the MET guys getting it right) and I being a loyal fan of Rahul Dravid, took heart from the fact that he looked less tentative the day before and fancied my chances of seeing my idol-ideal get back into form. That was not to be and I did nurse a broken heart and resorted to stuffing my face with more grease to rid myself of the depression. M, who’s my cricket buddy and it’s only fitting that he and I watched this game together, sat through moments of uncertainty as Gautam Gambhir frittered away a great opportunity, VVS Laxman flattered to deceive and Yuvraj Singh came to grips with the surface and the few demons it possessed. M insisted on calling him everything from Kanna, Raasa and Chellam in his effort to cajole him into playing sensible cricket while I frequently smacked him in annoyance. M, that is, not Yuvraj.

At the other end stood arguably the world’s best bastmen. A man who had a few ghosts to exorcise of his own. I was not there in person to witness his century against Pakistan and the subsequent 12-run loss, but, television repeats were quite enough so I can only imagine. It isn't the only record he has to set straight, says M, the absence of a match-winning fourth innings century amongst his numerous records has drawn much flak.
Much has also been written about how this game was one filled with emotion for both sides given the tragic occurences in Mumbai from less than a fortnight ago, more so for Sachin Tendulkar, the born and bred Mumbaikar. The emotion was felt all the way down in Chennai and as the numbers in the stadium grew, so did our confidence. It was a terrific feeling for each time your neck craned to a stand it seemed fuller than the last time. Test cricket is far from dead in my parts and I take such heart in saying that.

At tea, we had made it to 304 for the loss of 4 wickets. We’d take that, said M and I. We’d also consumed several bottles of water so our noise-making arsenal for the final session was in place. Did I mention that we took pictures of each session to capture our “mood” as such? Fun, fun times, these. As England took the new ball, Yuvraj stroked it with enough ease to assure his place in the side. Often, one forgets the supporting role. I hope that isn’t the case with today’s game as Yuvraj’s measured aggression and ability to rotate strike allowed Sachin to showcase his genius.

This was an innings unlike that of the other master blaster. Less about style and grace and all things Sachin, more about grit, composure and a control that was meant to take Indian cricket home. I, for one, have been a bigger fan of Dravid than Tendulkar, but, I cheered my loudest for every dot-ball that Yuvraj played, for if ever Sachin simply deserved a century for being Sachin, it was today. I missed the paddle-sweep and the cover drive that got him into the nineties but was back well ahead of the winning runs that also brought Sachin his 41st. Of course, even as the celebrations began, he stood to shake hands with the ground staff and the opposition before being smothered by his team's affections. You don't expect him to deny anybody their 'it' moment.

It isn’t like an account of today is unavailable elsewhere, but, this piece is for me to keep telling myself that I was there and this is how it happened.

When all else fails...

2008-12-05T08:33:00.000-08:00

There's Shakin' Stevens! When you're jiving to 'You drive me crayayazy', you'll ALWAYS have a smile on your lips.

Heaven must have sent you down, down for you to give me a thrill. And we can all do with a thrill just now. :)

The same six honourable women. :(

2008-12-01T11:33:00.000-08:00

How can I be a journalist by profession when at the worst of times, I fail to be articulate? Is it amongst my greatest failures (the others being math, statistics, so on and so forth) that I am unable to look past the tricks of my trade? Or atleast, find a way to be accepting of them?
Some of you might view this as OTT-dramatic but truth be told, I have been mulling a change for a while now. I started off being a journalist with the view that I was "good" at this sort of thing. That I was capable of telling a good story through my own words. Today, a "good" story isn't nearly good enough. It's about who told it first and who told it best, truth can very well be sacrificed. And with its newsanchor-eat-newsanchor style of operation, my fraternity has nearly lost all credibility.
Should I reconcile to the notion that I do not have it in me, I'm not "good" enough or do I persist with a thin line of defense? Murky, murky times ahead. Somebody show me a goddamn sign already.

It could have been any of us.

2008-11-28T04:46:00.000-08:00

So, much has been said and written about the unfathomable terror unleashed upon unsuspecting individuals across the city of Mumbai by terrorists who are as old as I am, who are perhaps as educated as I am, who certainly knew enough to adhere to fashion trends. I have tried to reason with myself and those who are glued to their television sets around me, the rationale that these young boys possess but have come up with nothing comprehensible.

The armed forces and police personnel have performed their duties remarkably in the face of adversity with the limited resources available to them. When news broke that he took three wounds in the chest despite wearing a bullet-proof vest, I was not surprised given him flimsy jacket. While our countries politicians are ensured 'Z' category security, we DO NOT have the required resources to safeguard our forces. It's no surprise that there are fewer men and women wanting to join the forces that protect when there is such disrespect for who they are and what they do.

While they have been trained for combat of this nature, the staff at the Taj Mahal Hotel and the Trident-Oberoi weren't. Yet, they managed to outdo themselves and be hospitable in an hour when they could have just been human. I read in a first person account that they spent the hours between fearing for their lives making sandwiches, providing bottled water and warm blankets. That's not the sort of service one expects would stem from training, it comes from an ingrained need to remain true to the cause of humanity even when faced with people with an abject disregard for life.

It's been nearly two days and I hope the mayhem ends soon. The places that have been attacked have been changed, the sort of change that rebuilding and refurbishing will not reverse. A couple of months ago and I was right there, at Leopolods, Oberoi, walking aimless-taking in all that Colaba has to offer.

As my heart goes out to those who survived the ordeal and those who didn't, I'm left with the empty feeling that at another time, another place, it could be me. It could be you. And, that just isn't right.

Like old wine.

2008-11-15T04:33:00.000-08:00

My body's creaking. From my knees to my ankles, every square inch is protesting the increase in physical acitivity over the last six months. :) Despite the slight pain and occasional fatigue, I've never felt as good about my physical form and that's the reason I'm choosing to make it the subject of a post after forever.

Also, the Americans aren't the only ones who gave in to change. I did too and I don't know what the future will hold. Will keep the enigma going for a while till I know what to say further. :)

p.s.: Sorry blog, I shall tend to you with more care.

Realigning the energy field.

2008-07-24T21:47:00.000-07:00

I've let go, of all the negativity and started anew. For the second time in close to nine months. :)
At this point in time, I must say birthdays bring the much needed affirmation that all of us seek but few acknowledge. For three years now, my birthday has been spent with a mixture of old and 'new' friends, this year being no different. 'Cept for a change in attitudes, perhaps.
This year, I started to believe in my own ability to achieve and not compromise on my happiness. A big big change from the last.
This year, I got my dancing shoes on as a result of a New Year resolution. Little miss twinkle toes, I will never be, but I'm lovin' it and hope to keep at it till the lights shine on.
This year, I've paid more attention to the weighing scales and I cannot believe how good I feel about the numbers tipping, slowly but surely.
This year, I have learnt to trust my gut and say no. Little word, big implications.
So, here's the start of another tomorrow, one that is brighter, wiser, dancier and lighter! :)

Two tumblers anyone?

2008-05-29T05:31:00.000-07:00

It’s nearly six in the evening, our pages haven’t passed and I’m starving. Only, there’s no room for us at the 'privileged' canteen of an institution that’s always classic, always contemporary.

We, the stepchildren of their somewhat new and less shiny tabloid for the I.T. corridor, were canteen demoted. After six months of eating at the canteen meant for those who were truly privileged, we were issued an order by the canteen supervisor, no less, to trudge an extra floor and eat with the other mere mortals.

We could swallow our pride (After all, it isn’t like the swanky canteen offered us exciting company and an incredible ambience) and eat at the 'other' canteen, if only everything they serve there wasn’t so lumpy / watered down.

It’s an issue of basic principle. I’ve heard of 'executive canteens' before but a firsthand experience of the difference between things preached and practiced has left me wondering why anybody would put up with this hypocrisy. There are several respectable folks here, who, I’m sure, have suffered from this variant of the ‘two-tumbler’ system but haven’t breathed a word. I choose to not be one of them. I quit.

The new 90.

2008-05-21T04:00:00.000-07:00

So, I've quit. Resigned. Put in my papers. I did so a month ago, I ought to have left behind a tidy desk by now, you think? Non. Thanks to the organization's "new" three-month notice period policy, I'm bound to the chair.

I haven't the slightest clue (or I might actually) as to why they introduced this ridiculous policy, but, if anything it makes you want to leave faster, much faster. People at positions of authority fail to understand that once a person has made up their mind to move on, it is difficult for them to stay motivated. A mere transition of knowledge or mundane chores is a requirement, I do understand, but, this remains not the time to ideate.

I was ranting to a friend who works in H.R. and he had the best thoughts on the subject - his policy, if you're going, leave a.s.a.p- everyone stays happy in the bargain.

Rant-note:
I have a personal computer at home, thank you. I can browse and blog with ease. You don't have to pay me to do so.

Poetic license.

2008-02-07T04:58:00.000-08:00

But sire, 'tis not wrong
to ask a puppet to lead?
Smug and cold,
of all replies told,
a puppet is all we need.

The unsung hero(ine).

2008-01-06T08:40:00.000-08:00

An editor makes a writer, or a journalist atleast. Over the year and a little more that I have been writing for a living, I've always admired the myriad strengths that a good sub-editor possesses - the skill to re-write, the intelligence to know which construct is indeed clever, the tact to deal with personalities, the sharpness to know by instinct the difference a letter can make and much much else.

Today, I had a verbal scuffle with a good friend over a written piece and as I attempted damage control, I gained some insight into my own strengths. While I played sub-editor, I saw certain shortcomings in me with alarming clarity. It wasn't as much about who was at fault but the way I handled the entire situation. Needless to say it was a messy performance, one that has reinstilled respect for all the men and women whose names the outside world does not see, but without whom the byline would weild less power.

p.s.: P, I forgot that you aren't a journalist and you perhaps don't hold the immunity that this job instills. I'm sorry. :)

Fatigue.

2007-12-26T22:32:00.000-08:00

I'm tired. Of most things around me.
I'm tired. Of trying to find order where people don't see the need for it.
I'm tired. Of trying to regain that spark when most avenues seem shut. Firmly.
I'm tired. Of asking questions, only because people don't WANT to answer.
I'm tired. Of fighting this constant vacuum.
I'm tired. Of making a beginning where people don't want to let go of the past.
I'm tired. Of just bloody trying.

People should be honest. To themselves and to those around them. Then we'd all need less Gatorade.

What must 83 have felt like?

2007-09-24T11:42:00.000-07:00

I've watched it over and over. And yet, the hair at the back of my neck never stood up. Today, my generation lived our 83 moment. The men in blue have won and HOW! As the crackers lit up the sky, I did my little jig in the hallway. SMS's came in a frenzy, calls were made to friends across the nation and rasmalai was devoured gleefully. Poetic justice, to have been written off and to show the world that we took ourselves a lot more seriously than they expected us to.

Through this tournament, several players have grown in stature. Rudra Pratap Singh has bowled with controlled aggression, Sreesanth has struck gold on occasion but could do with some discipline, Bhajji and Pathan made fantastic comebacks, Yuvraj (need I say more), Ghambir has chipped away at the runs, Robin has shown fine temperament (in addition to being super yummy, that is) but one man stands out as a daring, new-age Indian- Mahendra Singh Dhoni. The Ranchi lad has come a FAR mile from the days of horrendous hair colour to show that captain's feather will sit pretty. It took some nerve to toss the ball to Joginder and some more to claim that he gave it to him because Bhajji wasn't confident enough to get the yorkers in. He'll do us proud with his cricketing ability and straight talk, provided he can stop doing terrible endorsements for hair products.

Spare a thought for Misbah. One shot away from being a hero. Twice over. Even at 33, he's Pakistan's find for the tournament.

This T-20 Championship has brought us to the crux of 2 questions : What will happen of India's big 3? And what will happen of One-Day cricket? Till such time as there come some answers, we shall savour this win.

On being big boned.

2007-09-10T09:38:00.000-07:00

Most people would say watching 'We, the People' is perhaps not an ideal way to spend a Sunday evening, but, when the debate was on Fat vs Fit, I was all ears. And eyes.

There were all sorts that comprised the panel, the ones who loved the fat they were in, the ones who were skinny and still wanted to lose an inch, the ones who followed every diet in the book and the rest. Many questions were put forth that elicited answers that were close to my heart. While it really takes no science to figure that we live in a hypocritical, judgmental society, certain things said on the show I will not forget.

I for one have never been happy with my body. I cribbed. I still do. I still wish my largish arse away. I've also stopped making excuses and started making an effort. It takes time, but, I will do this the right way.

Random thoughts that follow:

People always use how much weight you have gained or lost as a measure of how much control you have over your life.

The way you look counts. Say it again.

There never existed a happy skinny woman.

Men don't 'need' to care as much. The fat pay check helps on Shaadi.com.

Fat defense. Never works. People see right through the insecurity.

Not all fat people are gregarious / intelligent and not all skinny people are self-obsessed.

Worry about Fitness. Forget about Fatness.

Your genes WILL tell the final story.

Every once in a while...

2007-09-03T21:45:00.000-07:00

... there comes an event that makes you change the way you look at yourself.

You realize that you’re perhaps not as independent as you thought you were, not as guarded as you imagined yourself to be and definitely not as cold as you made yourself out to be.

In that instant, you also know that your views on life have been shaped differently, yet again, for better or for worse.

It’s the best out-of-body experience, every once in a while.

The Four Letter Word.

2007-07-15T12:06:00.000-07:00

I've signed up for a GMAT prep class and I have to take their Math classes, every Sunday morning. For three hours. I went to my second class today and the instructor was a lot faster than I'd have liked. Then again, if I began to ask him doubts the class wouldn't go anywhere and that's unfair to the rest of the bunch. All of this is mundane but it serves as background for what's to follow.

When I tell the world I was born with no grasp of mathematics, I can't count, I can't make sense of little triangles sharing planes with other shapes, please believe me. We were discussing Mensuration and Coordinate Geometry this week. Though certain concepts of Mensuration did seem like French, Coordinate Geometry was well and truly beyond me. Given that I was functioning on little sleep, here are my 'staying awake and alive' tips for the day:

1. If everything seems to be a blur and sleep's calling, try giving each eye a rest. I shut one for 20 seconds and then the other. At some point in time, the guy teaching must have thought I was hitting on him.

2. Fiddle with the mobile phone. Pretend to read messages. There are very few people on my list who are awake at that hour who will find humour in this given situation.

3. Write the lyrics to all the songs you're singing in your head in the 'rough' space. There was 'Hands Clean', 'Losing my Religion', 'Change the World' and a few more.

4. Practice weird signatures.

5. Doodle. Draw. Sketch.

6. When the class ends, say Thank You the loudest.

The weekend that was.

2007-07-10T03:50:00.000-07:00

The weekend off at Bangalore has helped me unwind, considerably. That’s good news for everybody who’s had to put up with the crib machine! :)

For the first time in a long time, I managed to stay awake for most parts of my train journeys. Indication enough that the biological clock is tick-tocking in the right direction. The Chennai to B’lore route had me sitting next to a family of four who were visiting India from America. The dad was extremely friendly as he patiently entertained the kids whose curiosity was a little hard to contain. Mixed accents, Spelling Bee version Lal Bagh 1.0, numerous trips to the loo – one kid at a time… I wonder if I will be the mum ten years hence. For a person like me, it seems a really scary thought but I’m learning to leave the doubts behind and view things positively.

Also, I saw several abandoned station buildings along the way and I wonder what ghosts inhabit them. There’s a charm about old abandoned buildings that sends a tingle down my spine. I took a trip down nostalgia lane to a time when my friends and I made up stories about the old building we lived next to. There was the ghost of the old lady (poor woman, our imaginations killed her long before her time), the mysterious helicopter used by the hooded stranger and the several surreptitious activities we thought the house might be used for.

B’lore brought me back to the present. This trip was a first of sorts. I didn’t find the city unpleasantly cold. It was cool and breezy, though; by the end of it all I was / am saddled with a sore throat. There’s always something wonderful about reconnecting with good friends. Over yummy lunches, dinners, interesting shopping experiences, fantastic tennis matches and stay overs, I had one of the better weekends in a while.

Laallalalala. I’m living down the last few days of being 22. Till the 23rd. :)

The countdown to nowhere.

2007-07-03T00:18:00.000-07:00

I’m feeling a sense of despair that I’ve never felt before. Each morning, I wake up feeling empty and I just can’t place why. I don’t know when I ever placed my life in the hands of many others quite like this, but, it is proving to be extremely difficult to win it back.

This new move isn’t helping as much though I do realize I’m being a brat at times. I’m enjoying a lot of luxury at home that I will miss dearly if I move out again. Then again, I miss the independence so much that I’m starting to wonder if I’m just one of those people who’s meant to be at their best when left alone? Or are independence and loneliness two entirely different entities?

Fewer things keep me sane through the day and I’m counting each one down. Only I don’t know when this countdown will ever end. I’m the only one who can stop it and I just don’t know how.

Your kind.

2007-05-19T05:14:00.000-07:00

A friend at work said this to me, "You know, we all find our kind."
This was said over dinner and it has to do with a person who almost always eats alone.
Made me think of the number of times I've eaten alone. It's always been for the want of a little quality time with the self. We all need that to keep our sanity, my two.
For most parts, I'm a people's person. I'm not all smiles and polite chatter all the time, but, I do make friends wherever I go. And then I say something from within and lose some too, but that merits a different post. :)
I can't imagine myself being alone for more than a certain self-imposed period. I need to laugh at someone, cry with someone, talk to someone, plant kisses on someone and do so much more.
Having said that, I have found a fair few of 'my kind' and I hold them close to my heart.
You know, it would be nice to see someone walk upto her table and eat dinner with her.

Trying my best to turn that brand new leaf.

2007-03-30T13:22:00.000-07:00

My world of colour, where do I begin?

The last few months that I've been away from this page, my life has done the yo-yo. Almost like never before. Sure, there have been those moments where you lose a footing, where the right words seem a thousand miles away, but a few life changing decisions are sitting before me, waiting for one of the two buttons to be pushed.

If you've read Jonathan Stroud, I feel like I'm a being from the Other World. No form, no shapes and sizes, just fluidity. I flow from one day and spill onto the next. Let me try to bring some order to this:

First up, in about a month I will put this one year at my current organization behind me. Not entirely, mind you. I take with me the knowledge that when the going gets 'potholes-in-the-road' rough, I chose not to go, not to run away. I will leave on my own terms and the few extra rupees don't make me flinch.

Then the biggie. My parents want me to get married. Serious married. Have your pictures taken, married. I haven't rebelled, as for once, I'm thinking beyond myself. Many jaws have dropped, eyes have rolled, nothing I didn't expect. I go back in time, think of my interview at college, on how I never EVER wanted to be married. *Insert: I want to be 17 again.* What puzzles me is how do you answer questions like, 'Do you think this is the right thing to do? Isn't it easier to fall in love? Do you want to be subjected to this sort of judgment? How will you connect with a boy sitting in NY, for crying out loud?' I don't have any of the answers. I make some of them up, but find myself getting annoyed for attempting to justify. I don't know if there's a Mr. Right who will waltz in when the clock strikes 12, holding the shiniest shoe or rock on a ring or any such thing. I'm only trying to see how far I can go, how far I can accept that every knight will have a couple odd kinks in that armour. And why don't people get that?

Just before this comes to a grand close, I want to hug and thank all my friends who've stood by me, lent their ears and a whole lot more, let themselves be subjected to my all consuming rants, who've either been indifferent till I run out of words or who have something nice to say at that moment or who've tried to crack the lousiest joke just to see if I have any humour left in me. I love you all. :)

...

2007-01-23T07:38:00.000-08:00

Hit the pause button.

Take it one day at a time.

Live for yourself.

Sing the blues away.

Dance like no one’s watching.

Read, understand absorb the thrill of a new sphere or subject.

Aha. I see my life getting better already.

My name is Divya.

2007-01-17T05:13:00.000-08:00

It seems to me that the whole world knows how to pronounce 'Sheel-paa' . For the last day and a half, all the news networks have obssessed over the leggy beauty and the racial slurs made at her on Channel 4's Big Brother. I'm not condoning calling people names because of their ethnic origin, heck, it did enrage me for a bit even, but, hasn't this issue been stretched GROSSLY out of proportion? With a star cast of B grade, barely bitten by fame or stardom celebs, jealousy is bound to surface. Big Brother's Indian version Big Boss is no less dramatic but when your 'stars' are Bhojpuri actors and item-bomb starlets, racism never did figure.

Every other two bit who's who has something to say in favour of Ms. Shetty. Polls have been run and the support numbers grow. The I & B Ministry calls on its secretaries to address the issue. UK's Chancellor presents the picture- ' intolerance is unnacceptable'. The governments sure know when to be involved. Their sense of priority is beyond my comprehension. Where were they when indiscriminate attacks were made on South Asians in the UK? When Muslims were made targets of racial profiling post 9/11 and 7/7? And the instances don't stop here.

The emphasis thrown on the same by different news networks is even more puzzling. The week has been dominated by Aishwarya, Abhishek and Shilpa. The rest be damned. The little scroll space beneath glitzzy pictures will do. Pardon my sarcasm, but none of this makes me proud to be an Indian journalist.

The only good I see coming out of this is for Shilpa herself. Three crores and a screenful of publicity can't hurt when your career graph doesn't merit either.

Is it really easier when you ask?

2007-01-03T10:18:00.000-08:00

You said ask and I did.
Only, last time 'round the subject in question was someone else.
Now you know how it's tough to answer, leave alone ask.

I wish it didn't hurt. Not one bit.
Then again, if it hurt any less it would have never been real.

I wish I weren't this broken.
I'll be made of steel soon.
After all, I just lost my last chance at a happily ever after.

Nights such as this.

2006-12-18T11:42:00.000-08:00

You know you’re in for a good weekend when it begins on Friday. Given the hours I work, that’s a rarity. It started with a haircut that not many seem to notice, yet, makes my hair look nicer. I know and that counts. :)

My roommate and I ended the ‘girls’ night out by watching Casino Royale which fits perfectly into a newly created genre- English Masala.

Saturday was spent lazing around with the better part spent amidst company that holds an atrocious success rate of making me walk! A feat each of them can be proud of. Bah!

There were better things to come on Sunday, I was told. After all, we were letting ourselves get drawn into spools of purple magic. Deep Purple at the Cathedral High School, 17th of December, I was with friends I’ve known for a lifetime and less than a day. The music was great with the band performing many of their well-known hits. There was a lot of Christmas spirit doing the rounds with the wedding march and silent night thrown in for good measure. I was enthralled by Steve Morse’s solo act and Ian Gillian’s happiness was infectious. I won’t profess to be their hugest fan as I only know of their “popular” numbers, but this is one of those nights my grandchildren will hear of.

The best was yet to come.

“Nothing could stop India for the last four days, not even history.”

I’m not going to bother with details of the scorecard but this is for every other Indian cricket fan out there, savouring the moment.

Take a chance on me.

2006-12-11T10:51:00.000-08:00

The last few months have revealed a side of me that I’d rather not have seen.

For most parts, the people who know me have envied my level of confidence. But, like all things that are up that must come down at times, this has too. The reasons are unfortunately, aplenty.

It’s not a secret that what I’m doing now is perhaps not best suited for me. I miss too much for me to be happy. I miss the people. I miss ‘not’ having to stare at something till a something drops onto my window, from three thousand and more miles away. I miss being social, I have become such a whine pot. It’s anything but nice to know me now, really. To those who do know me and who have desperately made an effort to bring the old Divya back, thank you. You know who you are. :)

Something else that’s perhaps less known is how I’m unsure that I’ll ever find someone to love me for the person I am. The person I have become. I don’t believe you wake up and decide to shop for a boyfriend / partner / spouse, whichever applies. What I am amazed about is the timing of it all. Even if I do meet someone who I think is ideal, it seems to me that the gods work overtime to ensure that the timing is not close to heavenly. I’m only human, I have liked people in the last two years but for some reason I’ve not been able to take the chance on myself. I wonder aloud if there’s someone out there to change that?

6:20

2006-11-09T12:42:00.000-08:00

I haven't looked forward to going home with such eager anticipation in quite a while. Friendly faces, reassuring conversations, slobbery welcomes, sleeping in my own bed and even getting yelled at for not knowing how to wear a saree... Seems like a fun proposition. :)

Need this time off to deliberate. To think things over. I hope the return brings with it the clarity I seek desperately.

Inner Silence.

2006-11-06T12:39:00.000-08:00

When I wake up, each day, and a doubt or two crosses my mind, something’s amiss. It doesn’t take long to figure that this calls for me to wear my ‘grown up’ hat.

How much longer? Is it wrong to be worn down by it all? One day after another. Is it wrong to expect things to be any different?

Am I a quitter? Will my confidence stick when the going’s tough? Am I brave enough to do swim against the tide?

Why can’t I hear my own voice? Amidst the yelling and screaming (quite literally) why is the inner silence gnawing? And if it does speak, am I capable of listening?

Tomorrow might just be better. Or it might just take six months.

Faith. Belief. And all of it.

2006-10-11T12:15:00.000-07:00

Just a song I heard this evening on the radio and it struck a chord.

Hands by Jewel

If I could tell the world just one thing
It would be that we're all OK
And not to worry 'cause worry is wasteful
And useless in times like these
I won't be made useless
I won't be idle with despair
I will gather myself around my faith
For light does the darkness most fear

My hands are small, I know
But they're not yours, they are my own
But they're not yours, they are my own
And I am never broken

Poverty stole your golden shoes
It didn't steal your laughter
And heartache came to visit me
But I knew it wasn't ever after
We'll fight, not out of spite
For someone must stand up for what's right
'Cause where there's a man who has no voice
There ours shall go singing

My hands are small I know...

In the end only kindness matters
In the end only kindness matters
I will get down on my knees, and I will pray
I will get down on my knees, and I will pray
I will get down on my knees, and I will pray

My hands...

We are never broken
We are God's eyes
God's hands
God's mind
We are God's eyes
God's hands
God's heart...

...

2006-09-14T16:36:00.000-07:00

Just a random list of things I hate / loathe / abhor right now.

1. Duckworth & Lewis

2. Flooded inboxes where new messages don't open fast

3. Prejudices of ALL kinds

4. Whirlpool lady hosting a cricket show. &*$#!!!!!!!

5. Hips don't lie especially when they measure an atrocious 44"

6. People who don't get subtlety

7. Whining *Or how I have become exceedingly good at it, these days*

8. BO *should have been way up there*

9. Friends being far, far away *weeep*

10. That Saturday is STILL a day away...

To be 22.

2006-07-25T12:13:00.000-07:00

When you're surrounded by a whole bunch of friends, some old and a lot more who are sparkly new, when your face is smashed into yummy chocolate mousse cake, when you're overwhelmed by the number of people who remember, when you feel the tingling of a new beginning, when you bust your back cleaning the next day with a smile on your face, when you open out your gifts and figure you would have bought them yourself, when you get to work sleep deprived, dreaming of the bed you left behind at home... 22 seems like it can't get better. :)

Thanks everyone, for the wishes, and for just being there.

Fudgilicious!

2006-07-17T07:30:00.000-07:00

I'm happy as ever even though my nose is at its runny worst. Fudge, for the uninformed-my dog, is back in action!

The last time I went home it was heartbreaking to learn that Fudge was diagnosed with preliminary arthritis and he also had an enlarged heart. We switched him onto a prescribed diet and he's doing SO much better. :) He's been his usual, frisky self. *touchwood*

A homecoming that was perfect. Sloppy, slobbery perfect.

Happy Birthday to Me?

2006-07-12T15:36:00.000-07:00

I love birthdays. I do.

It's that one special day where the world cuts you some slack and lets you celebrate everything that you are. Everything you have become. Everything that you stand for. Everything you truly believe in.

So... what's different this year?

Not very much. I'm still counting the days to the 23rd of July. *Post me something nice people, and by post I mean courier... I want your love to be tangible! :)*

Yet, the times are different. The pressures are something I've not quite faced.

Marriage. I recollect my mother vaguely suggesting the noose would hang post 22.

This is quite a classic 'angel vs devil' storm brewing up inside.

Imagine a flaming red-haired Divya, radar in place, with a fork in her hand, screaming : "Freedom. Gone. Space. Don't think about it. Compatibility. If it don't happen, this is history sister..."

Imagine a peaceful *this WILL take some imagination* Divya, clad in pristine white saying : "Belonging. To wake up each morning and know someone's there. Sharing. Where someone else's joys become your own. And... someone will pay the bills and do the taxes. *I'm all for equal financial footing in the house, just that I can't stand the process.* :)"

Aah... to be four again, and just worry about the colour of your pretty dress and those blue balloons floating, close to the ceiling, just not touching it.

Italia. Woohoo.

2006-07-10T12:52:00.000-07:00

For someone who isn't a football fanatic, the FIFA World Cup Final swept me off my feet. I learnt from my 'learned' football friends that this was one of the better finals ever played. All credit to Italy for having brought renewed interest to the games they played, especially post the quarters. France did extremely well too... I must say I felt terrible about Zidane's exit. No player deserves to be shown the door in his last game. 'Dirty Terrorist' or not. For a player of his calibre, you expect him to not give a shit and show who is boss. He might just be remembered as the guy who "butted" his way out of a WC Final and that's not what the script should read. Not now. Not ever. But, life does go on... and Kudos to Italy!

P.S.: God, if you can hear me, please send Toni and Totti home.

Choices.

2006-07-03T12:24:00.000-07:00

Heaven on earth is a choice you must make, not a place we must find.

That wise person was right. And how.

I'm driven by instinct. I hardly labour over choices because I often end up choosing the option that satisfies me, first up. The rest remain maybes. As I sit at my desk, to observe and ponder, I wonder why I can't seem to choose happiness.

I wonder why the latest choices I have made (apart from choosing where to work, that's going alright so far...) don't bring a smile to my face. Right now, I think heaven is missing from my options list...

Goal(ie) Fever!

2006-06-15T08:16:00.000-07:00

For a loud, obnoxious, cricket talking woman... this World Cup has led to initiation into football mania! I won't pretend that I know the finer details, or names or even hairstyles for that matter,but, the T.V. screens at work seem to have me smitten!

Here's to many more such days of football in all its splendour!

P.S.: Does anybody else have a massive crush on Ecuador's goalie-Mora? *He's A-dorable*

B'lore Chronicles.

2006-06-12T04:55:00.000-07:00

This has been long overdue.

I must say I enjoy life in Bangalore.

The ‘newness’ has brought many challenges, some that seem invigorating like paying attention to the finer details at work, some that seem petty like fighting with your roomie over décor colours (half an hour later you feel like a big slob who temporarily lost her composure).

B’lore is a lot more like home, only with far better weather. The music is much improved and thank goodness for that. There are the odd days when the residual effect of Himesh Reshamiya overdoses still linger but it won’t be long before he’s history. In my head atleast.

The attitude of most B’loreans is something I can identify with. They aren’t quite the go-getters that Mumbaikars are, they like to live life in their own cocoon, at their own pace. Some might loathe it, but I quite like it. I wish you didn’t have to battle bad roads and incorrigible drivers to go out with friends… worse still, you have to be seated by 7 or the pleasure of trying to catch a glimpse of your friends’ heads over some overgrown monkey is all yours!

I know this post has very little structure.. it’s like my fingers are stuck to the keyboard and they are choosing to go to whichever letters they deem fit… So, go ahead, make what you want of it. When I’m a little less numb from looking at numbers, the posts might get better. I’m not promising. :)

Another chapter.

2006-04-24T03:24:00.000-07:00

Life's been crazy over the last few days. Although I absolutely love being at home, it feels strange. There are empty spaces which are no longer filled with crazy people and crazier conversations, all of which I took for granted. My friends have flown the nest and I will too. All of us create new chapters in our lives and I'm at the brink of yet another - Bangalore. In a funny sort of way, Bangalore has been my second home. I have spent many a summer there enjoying the company of family and friends. This time around, Bangalore will be different. It will be the city of malls that have mushroomed out of nowhere, it will be city of cultural chaos, it will be the city of traffic mayhem, it will be the city which holds the newest buzz, it will be the city where I get to go to office a few roads away from Rahul Dravid's house (very lame, I admit, but I'm silly like that :). Yes... I'm just a few days away from it all.

Just as charged as I am about moving to Bangalore, I want to bid adieu to Mumbai, in my own way. I have often said that given a choice, I would never live in Mumbai... people have often found my statements about the city quite scathing. Today, I would like to say that for all its flaws, Mumbai will hold a very special place in my heart. Here's just a few things that I will miss dearly:

1. O 558. The women - Booze, Meghu and Rain. I would do it all over again. Maybe sometime else, in another place. :)

2. ADMA - XIC. Everything from the classroom activities to making some wonderful friends to winning at Malhar and producing some kick ass advertisements... the stuff student life is supposed to be made of.

3. Shammy. The mom for whom we will never get past Class 2.

4. The boys... Lio, Clay, Viraj, Carlos, Mohit, Austin, Saket, Rakshit and so many others I'm sure I'm missing out on...

5. Mocha, Seven, even the imbeciles at Reliance Web World. :P

6. The train rides. Say no more.

My mind is a caught up in a swish of thoughts, but, this is what gushed out instantly...

Mumbai might never be home but it will be the city that changed me each day. All for the better.

For those who keep a tab...

2006-03-20T03:47:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: This is not an interesting post. It is merely factual and facts about my life might not interest very many people. :)

Let me start by saying this last month has been a whirlwind of thoughts, actions and events.

My group and I had to shoot for a mock advertising campaign on Saturday, 18th of March. The choosing of product or service began as a brand extension exercise - after much deliberation we were happy with going the Cadburys route. Only this time Cadburys would be selling greeting cards. :) We debated. We changed scripts over and over. We fought, but when the moment had passed, so did the bitterness. To use a cliche, at the END of the day we had a script that could hold an audience. Gone half the distance, the other lap seemed just as daunting!

Come saturday, I was a bundle of nerves as we were given strict instructions that only the DIRECTOR got to interact with the camera person and technicians of our shoot. The onus fell on Yours Truly. :D The shoot was challenging but it turned out fabulously. Despite having a couple of actors with very little professional experience, we managed to pull off a great job. Kudos to my team for having handled the task at hand wonderfully. None of us would have been able to perform our roles had it not been for the effort the others had put in. :)

Phew... there's more. I have landed a job with Reuters to work as a correspondent at their Bangalore office. I like the sound of the work I'd have to do as it seems like a great learning experience. The package is good for a start in media and that makes me tres happy. :)

I warned you... there's better stuff out there to read, but this post was for the ones who were cribbing about my hiatus from 'stuck in my head'. Later. :D

Movies. Magic.

2006-02-25T04:46:00.000-08:00

Last night, I got to spend some quality time with the 'girls'. Booze, Kiran and I saw the highly acclaimed movie, Crash which has won itself a string of Oscar nominations. When a movie is spoken about to a great extent, your expectations mar the experience of enjoying the movie for all that it is. Once again, Crash proved that audiences are a tad bit more intelligent that producers and marketers are willing to give them credit for. True, the screen hall was more empty than full, but the few people who did show up were transported to an alternate world - a world that was more real than reel. With an underlying theme like racism, I was skeptical as to how the film makers would have approached the script any differently from what we've seen before. I must admit, I love it when I'm pleasantly surprised. Power packed performances that laid to rest my theory of expectations. Slick editing that lent the film a beautiful, seemless flow. Pay offs that were placed with great meaning and most importantly, a script that stayed true. I must also make a mention of the presentation of credits which was superb! I could go on about everything that one must watch Crash for, but I'll stop here and urge anyone reading this to simply go and watch it.

P.S.: While the movie was all about America, the girls and I discussed how racism is more than prevalent in India. Something for all of us to chew on, to digest the prejudices and spit out the fanaticism.

The Final Term.

2006-02-21T00:21:00.000-08:00

There's nothing worse than having a lousy day(of late, it's become a pattern), only to come home to an empty house. The empty spaces leave you hunting desperately, for something, ANYthing, that will fill the void. Shedding tears are a temporary solution for when the smile returns, so do the questions. This was supposed to be exciting, challenging, something I would look forward to doing every damn day of my life. What in the world has gone wrong?

I shall be brave and blame it all on the weatherman!

Keep Your Eyes and Ears Open.

2006-02-18T05:08:00.000-08:00

"Sometimes the only thing we've got are words. Old words, which we put together in a hope that they will mean something new."

it's strange how watching a sitcom for half hour can leave such an indelible impact.

all hail scrubs, that 70's show, f.r.i.e.n.d.s, less than perfect and the other coaches of the bandwagon that have made our days go for zilch to super duper!

Soul Cola

2006-01-21T05:38:00.000-08:00

Saturday evening. Class yet again. Groan! This was a pattern that had developed over the last couple of weeks. So, we all went through the routine, battle crowds in trains, atrocious traffic and get to class a few "pardonable" minutes late.

Inspite of all the above mentioned, I was quite looking forward to this class as it was on something that is an integral part of my life. Music. From rasas to raags, the first half of the session was informative. It showed us the evolution of world music with a specific reference to India. Mood maps were understood and applied, with a few of us being nominated as RJ's for certain hours. Apparently, I can lift up spirits with my voice for I found myself on the morning or evening slot on most people's lists. Thanks everyone, it's something else to know that you would let me make your day. :) More masti. More chaos. Well deserved break.

The post break session entailed a surprise. Just for me. As usual, my enthusiasm got the better of me and I volunteered to be one of the guniea pigs for an exercise. Three of us were picked and asked to speak under the influence of one music track. With Floyd playing as a background score, I let my mind travel to places that seem familiar now. It's rare that I let my emotions surface, it's rarer still that I choose to express them in words. Caught in a moment. A lot left to say. Family. Friends. Dog. Home. Loneliness. Cricket. Score Updates. A mish mash that made little sense to me but it seemed to connect with my audience. After all, I was speaking from the heart. :)

The four hour session ended with the class listening to a few music pieces that have left an indelible mark on human kind, irrespective of race, gender, creed or age. I would like to end with a special mention on our teacher, Utkarsh. Though i address him as "Sir" in class, it seems phony to attach a Mr. and a surname, just now. I have few role models, but with his passion, knowledge and keenness to impart all that he has experienced, he has won himself a fan for life. I think God makes fewer men like him because he thinks his efforts go unnoticed. We're listening. We're watching. We're absorbing. We're applauding. Don't ever stop, India needs many more.

Yeh Mera India!

2005-12-30T13:06:00.000-08:00

I marvel at the wonder that is my nation. Each day, each moment, there's an Indian who makes it to the top of whatever he / she set out to accomplish. As proud as I am about the India which is ambitious yet grounded, progressive yet rustic, these little nothings bring a knowing smile to my face. A smile that reflects my love for India despite all her quirks!

Facial, manicure, pedicure, hair trim and Boob cut offered at Bobby's Parlour

All days open , Punchure shop

This is a Chennai special that everybody who's ever passed G.N. Chetty Road would have had a mighty ha ha about:

Nasity Boys cricket team

I'm always on the lookout for such quirky posts... does anybody know where I can find these laminated boards which have these goofy lines printed on them? The look of these boards is very retro, very funky!
And just before I forget, aren't you super duper happy to be Indian? :)

Sangria Sunsets...

2005-12-24T10:09:00.000-08:00

When PJ asked me to come over for a Christmas afternoon / eve do at his place, i was a little skeptical about the eclectic mix of people he had invited. Adi, Anushya, Gayatri, Harini, Esha, Yours Truly - the common thread between us was just good ol' PJ. We met over lunch at Sukh Sagar where quite strangely, one has to eat dessert out of little bowls for they refuse to give you plates at the buffet counter! Having satiated our appetites, we headed to PJ's place to successfully depose his sister from the cosy comfort of her room. Apparently, it was HIS room before it was hers so she surrendered without a fight. PJ then chose to treat us with the finesse befitting young ladies and gentlemen coming into their own - Wine, champagne and tastefully mixed Sangrias. Truly PJ, London has taken you to new "heights". Every pun intended. As the hours passed we lost track of time and a few of us, our senses. Adi had a meeting to attend to and Anushya left us to partake in a bridge competition at IIT. As a few more hours passed, two lovely young ladies had us entertained with their giggle fits, outbursts of emotion and crazy jigs! Not to mention an insane number of hugs did the rounds with PJ being the designated photographer. The madness was taken out of PJ's home to Mocha at Khader Nawaj Khan Road. I must mention i LOVE the use of colour, texture and light at this place. The cycle rickshaw seats in the garden space is an ingenius idea. The sort of bent i love! As the mischief hookah was placed before us, the group had grown sober. Over puffs of orange and lime conversation flowed on intelligence, economy and the decadence of Indian youth. As the day wrapped up, I'd like to revisit the group's common thread - We were a bunch of intelligent individuals who indulged in a whole load of fun. In a time and place when I hunt high and low for such company, today was special. Thanks PJ. I owe you one.

Intelligentsia.

2005-11-29T23:34:00.000-08:00

We like to think of ourselves as intelligent beings. That's an open secret. We dig recognition. That's not even a secret. When you're recognised for being intelligent, it gives you a kick. You want to throw your hands up in the hair, hold that head high and do a little jig.

All of this held true in a class where I made a suggestion that the professor loved and even recommended to his client. Yaaaay! The seemingly insignificant pleasures of life truly make it worth my while and yours.

Go on people, don't be afraid to raise that hand and blurt out the little thought. Who knows? It could be your big moment.

Curls and Cotton Candy

2005-11-14T05:04:00.000-08:00

It's the irony of my life. I'm not too sure it merits a post but here goes... My hair was poker straight for nearly 6 months... was uhm, weirdly straight and curly for the next 3 odd and now my infamous curls have made a comeback. This is straight out of the Sunsilk ad for Curls, the twist in this ad script being, EVERYBODY loves the CURLS! :)

Lesson learnt. What's the point of changing something about you when it was only you who didn't see its beauty?

Girls Uniterrupted.

2005-11-14T04:59:00.000-08:00

Belated Happy Budday Kiran! :)

Thanks to madhatter Kiran we had a blast at Hawaiin Shack. Good ol' music from the 80's, in English, I lay emphasis on the language as I'm sick as hell having to listen to Aap ki Kashish and the likes 24 / 7, the 'all girls' company -better still and long island iced teas... Heaven IS a place on earth, sometimes! :)

Worth the 'Weight'!

2005-11-03T10:24:00.000-08:00

I weigh a good lot more since all I've been doing in the last few days is eating wholesome food at home or pigging out at my favourite restaurants. Some people call it Holiday Weight. I choose to rephrase. This is Home Weight and worth every inch in gold!

The Big Bad World of Blah.

2005-10-29T23:42:00.000-07:00

An aspiring copywriter's food for thought:

"I have always believed that writing advertisements is the second most profitable form of writing. The first, of course, is ransom notes..." - Philip Dusenberry.

There's NO Place like Home.

2005-10-24T10:35:00.000-07:00

Picture this, two eager beavers sticking to the windows of an aircraft, their hearts thumping with joy as Chennai's little buildings grew in size. That was Ren(my roomie) and me, the Sunday last. Yes, Yes... I'm in the land where the roads are cleaner(it's all relative), the routes are familiar(i'm direction challenged), the sambhar is spicy(I'm loving it) and the feeling of belonging is more than apparent. There's so much to do, people to see, places to go. This city is a part of me. period. I don't want this to end. Ever.

Happily Ever After.

2005-10-18T02:25:00.000-07:00

No, this is no magical love tale but just a day of trials and tribulations in a court martial conducted by one of our professors. Post the horrors of the morning which included late starts, messed up presentations, a million unnecessary interruptions and the likes... the conclusion was purrfect! Justice had been done to 20 odd from the 60 who endured a seemingly never ending day. We met at Rakshit Doshi's place and had the time of our lives. High spirits flowed and became one with conversations. We never seem to do away with truth or dare but I must add a few daring souls like Mel, Suri and Shuchika brought some much needed life to the silly game. Conversations further blended mellifluously with the hummable tunes we all love. Post this; Pankit entertained the bunch with his Shayaari sessions, which would have had some dead poets stirring in their grave. :) Yours truly fell asleep at this point as I had barely slept the night before. The rest is all hearsay. Apparently Saket and Shuchika shook a leg and how! There were a few others who almost fell off the wagon, courtesy the after effects of you know what. Strangely enough, Rakshit Bahadur was found sleeping in the balcony. Its only at such crazy dos that you meet a paan eating Chinese guy who can levitate - Van, Rakshit's buddy. Such events of the night could have only been matched by a wonderful lunch at Shiv Sagars followed by my very first Gola session at Juhu beach. I like the pace of it all. I'm starting to give Mumbai a lot more thought but hey, I'm going home on Sunday... and no one can take that away from me! Tra la la!

See More. Hear More. Know More.

2005-10-13T00:22:00.000-07:00

The Sunday that passed by held quite a few surprises. The journalism students from XIC were hosting an evening bash for the rest of us. Train halts and twists in routes notwithstanding, I managed to make it to the campus an hour late. No worries there. The party had just about begun. I wish the students had shown more enthusiasm by showing up for starters. Apart from a smattering of students from ADMA, only the journo crowd hung around. Clannish bums that we are, we further chose to segregate ourselves into comfort zones comprising familiar faces. The bash was just about fun for the music didn't measure up, yet, the highlights of the evening were Saket and Devang's dance moves, Rakshit and Saket(there he goes again!) role playing and the stage performance by Shammy, Melroy, Austin, Yours Truly and another couple of people from journalism. Heck, I don't even know their names so one can imagine how much intermingling did take place! Post the party a few of us headed to Mocha to simply while away some more time.

This trip was different, truly speaking. First up, the crowd composed of people who didn't hang out with each other, who just about said their hi's in college. Socializing with variegated groups does refresh your perspective. The singing bug refused to let us go, so we ended up serenading all of Mocha with 'Nothing's Gonna Change My Love', 'You're Still The One' and a few more Hindi numbers. A few hit the notes, a few others didn't. Big Shmuck! Kudos to us for we even managed to drown out the music playing. Post a few courteous nods of appreciation from the on lookers, we settled into a game of truth or dare. Yes, yes. We managed to get past the customary 'Whom do you dig' phase to some meaningful insights. We unearthed our opinions about each other, which I have attempted to sum up:

Devang - King of Good Times who desperately needs a haircut.

Rakshit - Able Leader of the brat pack.

Dipti - Beauty with Brains. If only we could hear more from her!

Austin - Twisted! If you're wondering... it's a wonderful thing to never think along a set path.

Pulak - Respect comes naturally when you're as sensible as him!

Shuchika - Being blunt has never been as much fun. :)

Chitra - Anything can be set right with a smile.

Saket - ?!?! There's not a talent this man does NOT possess. The nice guy on the block.

Divya(moi) - Loudmouth who has fans for she speaks sense. Gufffaawww! If only my folks read this.... :D

Poulomi - Mistress of Tact. She personifies enigma.

I hope I've done justice to the conversation we had. Thanks fellas... that was a night to remember.

My Few Minutes of Fame.

2005-10-10T23:54:00.000-07:00

Alrightie people... Kya Baat Hai, the show I described in detail in one of my previous posts airs this Friday at 17:30 p.m IST. The repeats are at 13:00 p.m on Monday and 22:30 p.m the Thursday after. Do tune in, if you have the time!

Singara Chennai

2005-10-10T04:09:00.000-07:00

...and there are some days when all you want to do is find your suitcase, throw a few clothes in and run home, if you have to! For those of you whose heart just skipped a beat, I have no such plans. I FLY home on the 23rd of October. Oh....If only time flew!

I thought of ending my post on that note, but I do want to make a mention of all that brought about this bout of homesickness. I was engaged in a conversation with some of my classmates when I stumbled upon some of their opinions on South Indians, read Madrasis. Terrible looking, lungi wearing, boring, jaya amma worshipping bunch that we are. None of these opinions are adulterated by my flair for drama. It's unfortunate that people seem to shut their eyes tight to reality. They would much rather believe what the movies tell them. Chennai has its flaws in abundance. The rigidity of language, the oppressive heat, the bookworm mentality... all of that I accept readily, yet, if only people would learn to embrace differences. Wishful thinking, that!

Kya Baat Hai!

2005-10-05T04:49:00.000-07:00

The Show: Kya Baat Hai

The Topic: Cricket and its Future in India.

The Panellists: Mr. Raj Singh Dungapur, Mr. Ratnakar Shetty, Mr. Ayaz Memon

This afternoon I was at the MTV Studios as a participant on their talk show, Kya Baat Hai. Given the topic of discussion, it's no surprise that I had a lot to say. We discussed playing cricket vs playing politics, the zonal selection policies, the inefficiency of the BCCI, the seemingly inane innovations made by the ICC and India's preparations for World Cup 2007. Quite some talking to do in a span of just one hour. At this point, I must veer from the cricket to gush about the host. Cyrus Broacha is one helluva talented man. He refuses to work with a script and all of his jokes, corny nevertheless, are his own. What amazes me most - the humility of the man. He sipped his chai and cracked his PJ's amidst a throng of camera and lights personnel. In a city that breathes and breeds Page 3 Culture, such a sight is like a much awaited blast of cool air at the end of a grimy day. Before I forget, I want to marry a man like him. Enough said about Mr. Broacha. Since this is an interactive show, the Mumbai audience holds a video conference with the Delhi and Bangalore crowd. All I remember from those two sections was the presence of a Mr. Rahul Mehra, advocate who filed a petition against match fixing, who has a mouth that refuses to shut. His final one 'word' was the longest I've heard in my 21 years of being. I must add, he had valid points to make especially about the BCCI's lack of accountability and transparency in operations. I spoke about the Ganguly vs Chappell controversy, as did everyone else and was commended by Cyrus as a 'woman who was passionate about her cricket'. *Grin* I also had several other opinions, but I shall leave that to you guys to witness on MTV, this coming Friday at 5: 30 p.m. I haven't the foggiest clue about later re runs but I shall put up a post soon enough.

Hanging on for Dear Life!

2005-10-04T08:14:00.000-07:00

P.S: To any Mumbaikar reading this, pardon my rant... you guys have been there, done that.

This is a day that redefines all other red-letter days. This morning, as I attempted to board the Churchgate Fast Local Train, I was forced to hang out of the train. The train travelled at a frenzied pace and the wind was in my hair. If any of this sounds pretty, it's the next best thing to crossing a Mumbai road blindfolded. How awfully lucky! People in Mumbai must be used to seeing their lives flash before them at such frightening moments. To me what was most frightening was the ease with which I hung on for dear life, it was as if I possessed a latent 'hang out of a train' talent. Ironically, these are the first signs of me finding a foothold in Mumbai. Until the next memorable moment...

Konkona Chandramouli?

2005-09-24T07:05:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: This is a vain-as-hell post. Read at your own risk!

"Madame, you know Konkona Sen?...You know, you look just like her!"

That was just a smooth talking linking rd. shop keeper trying to sell me another pair of shoes but that isn't the first time people have spoken of the similarity between me and Konkona Sen. I can never quite tell if I resemble a celebrity or anybody else for that matter but this is one association I'm quite proud of. The reason being, I respect Konkona Sen as a performer and I'm truly glad she hasn't succumbed to Bollywood's sleazy charms, just yet. She has chosen challenging roles and essayed them with fluid ease. She's proven that you don't have to be drop dead gorgeous to create a telling impact on your audience. You simply need to act. Something that most other Bollywood actresses have long forgotten. Keep it coming, Mrs.Iyer...In your honour, I bought the green pair too! :)

Another One Bites the Dust.

2005-09-21T00:07:00.000-07:00

First up, apologies to everybody. I've just dusted the virtual cobwebs off my blog, courtesy the "no time, no internet" phase in Mumbai. I've taken a vow to spend more time connecting with myself and people I love, so like it or not... you're stuck in my head again!

Last Sunday, a few friends from XIC and I were part of the studio audience for a talkshow under CNN's "Eye on India" series. This was a discussion on the Indo-Pak peace dialogue and the panel included eminent guests like Shabana Azmi, Imran Khan, Humayun Khan(?), Nusli Wadia, Praful Patel and a Pakistani industrialist whose name i cannot remember.

At the outset, one hour is much too little time to hope for the debate to be constructive leave alone conclusive. Just when the passions seemed to simmer, the curtains were drawn. I'm leaving out the details of the show because it was nothing you haven't heard before. The 'K' word was oft repeated, no surprises there. Shabana Azmi couldn't stop gushing on Veer Zaara and future collaborative film productions paving the path to peace. Imran Khan looked supremely uncomfortable on those little bar stoolesque chairs and he would have been more entertaining if he was throwing darts at a picture of the president. Mr. Mush that is! If any of you are thinking, why did you brave the grime of Lower Parel and make your way to studios on a lazy Sunday evening, it beat watching the other Emran in Aashiq Banaya Aapne on a pirated cable channel.

At this juncture, I'd like to proudly note that my interaction with several Pakistanis in the virtual world has been far more fulfilling than a rehearsed discussion of contentious issues where the distinction between right and wrong has long been blurred.

Welcome to Adulthood.

2005-07-22T13:52:00.000-07:00

I turn 21 today. It's like any other birthday, several people calling in around the time the clock strikes 12. Yet, there is one significant difference. It's the one birthday when mum won't make avial for me. It's the one birthday where I don't have "plans" - everybody i love is far away, in another city. Wait a minute, I'm not being the crib machine yet again. I have learnt far more in these two hours than I have from any other birthday. Like they say, distance truly, makes the heart grow fonder.

On a tangential thought, it's ironic, for I have waited for this day since what seems like forever. Being the baby of the bunch was never really much fun. So, with immense pleasure i announce my arrival into Adulthood. I'll end with a somber warning a friend gave me, "From here on, you would wish the years came by in negative..." I'll ponder on that in 2006...

Some place you call Home.

2005-06-28T08:24:00.000-07:00

A month back, today would be just another one of those days where you laze around, stuff your face, flip a page or two and stare at the tele for endless hours. Little did I know that in less than ten days, my life would spin at a pace that would definitely beat the pants off Narain. I now find myself spending my last week in Chennai for come Monday and I will be a Xavierite, a Mumbaikar. While I am excited at the prospect of building a great launch pad for my career in Mumbai, I am equally apprehensive about flying the nest.

Chennai has borne my presence for the last twenty years. Every first happened here. My first day at school where I threw a fit (enter the drama queen). My first examination (probably the only one I studied for). My first academic award (those dried up as fast as they came). My first silly fight with a best friend (come on, we all have loads of those). My first crush (while everybody was obsessed over the Khans I chose the specy sporting geek). My first movie with friends (honestly, these outings were first signs of freedom to choose your way of life). My first badge (class leader, enough said). My first defeat (you live and learn that at times, in losing you win). My first kiss (!!). My first responsibility ( loved each moment of being in charge). My first heartbreak (as hard as it seems, you do get rid of emotional baggage). My first job (no matter what place, what work, the experience is invaluable).

I’m sure there are several firsts that I have forgotten to mention. These were the few that tumbled out in an instant. As I gear up to make the first big move of my life, I hope my firsts in Mumbai are just as memorable.

Koovum Kalling.

2005-05-25T07:32:00.000-07:00

I don't believe I'm actually doing any of this. Firstly, I wake up at the ungodly hour of half past five, just a little after Mr. Sun has greeted my part of the world. After which, I head out to rowing camp! Yes, I can see a few people fall out of their chairs already... but this is for REAL. Rowing has been tremendous fun and strenuous exercise... The only drawback being, well, you guessed right.. I row in the friggin' Koovum. I could actually walk up to a lot of people in the city and claim "I know what you had for dinner last night". But, I will spare myself the agony of going into graphic details. Why the hell have we been unable to find an effective solution to clean the Koovum up? The city corporation has failed to address this issue for over a decade. It's a shame really, that the Koovum is a landmark for all the wrong reasons.

P.S: Apparently, they dunk the summer campers in on the last day, so everybody in Adyar or thereabouts gets a hug from me! :)

My rant rap.

2005-05-12T10:16:00.000-07:00

cling. clang. clutter. flutter. mess. stress.

oh how i wish time would find itself a concord!

Bittersweet.

2005-05-02T08:46:00.000-07:00

Over the last few days, a strange lady has paid me a few visits. Honestly, it doesn't get stranger than fate. Her modus operandi can truly create a tsunami in the most prepared minds. After all, how can you prepare to bump into someone you cared for immensely, but haven't spoken to in the last two years? How can you prevent a smile from appearing at the corner of your lips when you rewind into the crazy moments you've shared with that special someone? How can you stop the tear from rolling down when you feel the pain, as if the knife never did become blunt?

How can you bring yourself to perform a kind deed for a person you have no regard for, just because there was a person asking you to who cared as immensely for her, as you did for someone else?

How do you stop a chance virtual rendezvous from happening? One that brought with it a flash of the adolescent years, full of insignificant trials and tribulations? The years that seem full of embarrassing stories that you laugh off in the years that follow.

How do you stop life from being bittersweet?

One of those days.

2005-05-02T05:35:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had one of those days? Days where moments swing to and fro, along with the needle of a mood pendulum. Highs blend with lows in a mish mash collage. Days where you're mentally exhausted at the end, but no amount of resharpening your focus brings details to the fore. As i put this down, I'm having yet another one of those days.

There are moments of elation when your work is appreciated and you heave a sigh of satisfaction. One of those defining moments in the life of a young professional. One of those moments where you stand up and declare to the world ' Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is what I was born to do.' The world is actually, smiling back at you.

Then again, there are moments when people you trust the most, let you down. In one fell swoop. Moments, when you want to break free from an invisible bond. One of those moments when you're left questioning the motives of all and sundry. It's like the plot of an awful Ekta Kapoor serial, where you cannot afford to trust your dog with a little something special about you.

My day was lost between a flurry of these incongruous moments. Is it just me, I wonder?

Sunday Splurge!

2005-04-24T11:04:00.000-07:00

A perfect lazy Sunday afternoon to follow a perfectly lazy Sunday morning. It's been a while since mum, Bharat(bro) and I have bonded, so this was the perfect setting. There goes that word again. We headed out to Spencer’s to burn some happy holes in dad's pocket.
I don't quite know when my brother grew up. As if him shaving for the first time wasn't a sign enough, he now picks out absurd clothing. T-shirts that read 'Cool'. Even as brothers, boys will just be boys! As we passed by the women's section, i gazed fondly at the myriad colours on display. Mums never miss these dramatic moments, they only get more animated picking out their favourite colours. It never strikes them that we are the ones who have to wear the outfits! I'm blessed to have a mum with impeccable taste, but for the less fortunate folks, I quite understand. I refuse to be a pretentious intellectual snob who abhors shopping. Hot pink and zesty aqua do bring magic to your life. Your sense of style is yours and yours alone. There are no two crazy beads sporting Divya Chandramoulis.

Lunch was the highlight of my day. Nothing like jostling amidst a Sunday crowd to lay your hands on that plate of pani puri. The food didn't leave much room for conversation, but this was just like the old times! Perfect, I say!

Remembering the first.

2005-04-23T11:47:00.000-07:00

Now, long after time has lost its patience, I discover that first loves cannot be forgotten. You only think you've let go, till reasoning blows up in your face like a cruel joke. The state- irony. The effort - futile. The feeling - forever.

My Favourite Things.

2005-04-20T22:05:00.000-07:00

On a lazy Wednesday morning, I sit back and think of everything that makes life worth the while. Here goes, in absolute random order:

1. Indian advertising : everything from desi to urban chic. It makes t.v viewing that much more fun!

2. Fudge greeting me each time, at the door. I yell at times, for he never tires... but if it stopped, I would miss it like crazy!

3. Never ending telephone conversations where you're discussing everything under the sun, and the world starts to make sense.

4. Good writing. Hail! The good books keep piling up!

5. My folks. Despite every idiosyncrasy in the world.

6. Shopping sprees...yoo hoo! Junk and more junk, here I come!

7. A nail biting, close cricket encounter. Nothing quite like it!

8. Hearing J's voice, fighting sleep, even at 2 in the afternoon. The voice that makes my day.

9. Friends. Need I say more?

10. My brother, who was whiny just yesterday but seems all grown up today. Strange, are the ways of boys!

11. The World Wide Web : It's a crazy world out there, and I can't seem to get enough of it!

12. India. Maa Tujhe Salaam. Thai Manne Vanakkam.

13. A lilting melody. A pacy drum roll. Music, is the food for my soul.

who says lists need to end on even numbers?!?

I. Me. Myself.

2005-04-19T00:40:00.000-07:00

Am I an open book, allowing people to ruffle my pages a tad too fast?
Am I a shallow pond, where thoughts stay afloat, without deeper meaning?
Am I the touch-me-not, shrivelling and unaccepting, always on guard?

Life takes you through meandering roads, where every halt leads to introspection. In each wrong, there emerges a right. Sometimes, all it takes is for you to step out of yourself and view the world anew. Questions find answers, somehow, somewhere.

Woeful Men in Blue

2005-04-17T04:51:00.000-07:00

Waking up at 4: 30 this morning meant that my body was aching for an afternoon siesta. Post lunch, Pakistan had notched up their 303 in fifty overs leaving the Indians to chase successfully to draw the series. At this point in time, I felt that the Indian team had done pretty well to contain Pakistan to 300 odd. With another blazing start, at the fifteen over mark with a whopping run rate touching seven almost, they looked set to cruise to 350. Yet, tight bowling in the middle overs and smart captaining from Dravid pulled them back to 303. On the Indian prospect, Srikkanth and Amarnath echo my sentiments... "haan ji, yeh to fighting total hai ji, agar top order click ho jaye to india ke paas baating strength hai is total ko chase karne ke liye..."

The first two overs fly past, not without a skirmish or two as Sehwag gets caught off a no ball from Rana. I'm fighting a losing battle to stay awake and i give in. A few zzzzz's later, I turned on the television, Lo and Behold... to see Srikkanth and Amarnath AGAIN! Eh? I rub my eyes. IF you thought you had seen the worst of blue woes, think again. We have successfully folded up. Once again, without the semblance of a fight. Blame it on a slower pitch, blame it on external pressure, blame it on a non performing captain who was conveniently banned... even the most die hard Indian fans ( yours truly ) have begun doubting the team's effort to remain consistent.

My mind rushes back to one of my favourite Amul hoardings of all time , 'Tendu. Ten don't.' Sure. That equation has changed. It's now 'Veeru or Ve're Gone.' India's cricketing fortunes were never predictable but just as we seemed to be forcing ourselves out of the 'one man dependency' trap, PLONK, we've fallen back into it. I'm a fool and so be it. I will still wake up at odd hours to perhaps see the men in blue crumble for under 120, but I sense there are certain others who have lost their patience. Team India owes their next performance to those who still believe.

p.s: PRAY, what was Roshni Chopra wearing?!?!?!

Little to Laugh About

2005-04-16T09:55:00.000-07:00

Mansi* is a young woman, whose attitude towards life is quite simply, bindaas. This thirty something jewellery designer moulds any girl’s best friend in intricate designs that reflect a refreshingly creative mind. The dancing bug caught her early and she has been dancing for as long as she can remember. The several photographs of stage performances pinned on her soft board stand testimony to her dancing ability. Mansi’s joie de vivre influences all and sundry who chance upon interacting with her…

There seems to be little wrong with this description. Wait a minute, did I say little, for that precisely is the problem. Mansi suffers from Achondroplasia, a genetic disorder that stunts growth. Yes, Mansi is what we commonly refer to as a ‘dwarf’. Achondroplasia is caused by defective matching of genes that leads to distorted body proportions. In most cases, the upper torso is developed whereas the upper and lower limbs remain largely under developed. Achondroplasics have a shorter life span of about forty years as the lack of space restricts the functioning of the heart and the lungs. In certain cases, speech might be slurred or screechy. According to endocrinologists, the available treatments are painful and most patients can ill afford them. Doctors world over are devising methods by which Achondroplasics can avail a feasible, affordable medical solution.

Yet, anybody who suffers from this dreaded disorder will tell you that the physical battle is far less painful than the social battle. Courtesy a documentary exercise in college, I had the opportunity to get a glimpse into the lives of people affected by Achondroplasia.

Manikandan* is employed as a mascot by an amusement park in Chennai, Tamilnadu. Like most other fathers, his two-year-old daughter is the apple of his eye. His professional life begins each afternoon, when he dons a costume to amuse several other tiny tots. While the rest of us fuss over the sweltering heat, Mani seems immune. It’s just another day where the mask is all that matters. After all, day after day, his grimaces go unnoticed. The children at the park greet the masked Mani with a mixed bag of emotions. While some scream with glee, some others seem hesitant to shake his hand. The parents seem far more eager, shoving their children’s palms into the mascot’s. After several cameras click away, the audience watches as Mani and his friends take to the stage. Judging by the cheers, this seems to be everybody’s favourite part of the show. As I speak to Michael, the event coordinator, he seems completely in favour of Achondroplasics working as mascots. In the lower rung of society, it’s their best shot of earning an income, he claims.

Earlier that morning we, my fellow director and I, spent time interviewing Mani’s family and neighbours. His wife does not suffer from the same disorder and she remains a few inches taller than Mani. This drew my attention to a few almost unknown facts. Achondroplasics do get married. They are also capable of producing perfectly healthy children. Interestingly, Mani also supports his aging mother who sings praises of her son’s benevolence, disillusioned by the attitude of her other ‘successful’ children, who couldn’t be bothered.

Mani’s neighbours seem nonchalant about his physical state. Having said that, we did hear the odd teasing phrase or two (courtesy the fuss made over the camera); but by and large things seemed to be at ease in this little colony of concrete shacks. The people around him vouched for Mani’s pleasant demeanour and the women were more than happy to have an in house entertainer for the children. As Mani’s wife rustled up the afternoon meal, he looked animated for the first time in the day. His eyes light up as he narrates his acting experiences for a few Kollywood films and few other television serials. Just as the afternoon sun got merciless, Mani shared with us his one ambition – to secure a government job and earn a secure income.

There might be marked differences in the quality of life that Mansi and Mani lead but it’s support and security they both seek the most. While Mansi has parents who gave her strength to discover the world, Mani has the love of his family. Mansi’s parents and sister are her best friends who see her through thick and thin. Not for a minute was she ostracized from family gatherings. It’s this progressive thinking extended by the family that has helped Mansi overcome all inhibitions and design her own dreams. Mani might not have been the beneficiary of progressive thinking but he has still managed to make something of his life. He is a doting husband and a proud father who wants to give his child a world, much better than his.

Mani and his Achondroplasic friends have taken fate in their stride as they set out to make the world laugh. You see them everywhere – an amusement park, a circus, a PR event for a children’s clothing store. Yet, none of us see through the masks. In an effort to make themselves heard, the Achondroplasics who work within the Tamil entertainment industry have formed an association. This is the first step in the right direction to fight exploitation of any kind. They seem determined to make foray into different fields where their skills can be put to use.

At the other end of the spectrum, I was shocked to discover that it’s so called elite society that wears prejudices on its sleeve. In certain cases, Achondroplasic children born to affluent parents are shunned and kept away from the glare of society. A sense of shame seems palpable, so much so that a successful doctor who happens to suffer from Achondroplasia refused us an interview. This only made me realise that even success does bring off this mask that repeated rejection has forced them to wear.

These people are far above our pity. Just like any of us, they are individuals who need love, support and encouragement to blossom forth. It’s time we, the world around, turned more sensitive to the needs of those whose lives cannot be taken for granted. After all, this is no laughing matter.

* Names have been altered to protect the individual’s privacy.

Double Scoop Sundays

2005-04-16T07:16:00.000-07:00

It happened one fine day, like most other things. An erudite bunch of twenty somethings, fired by the passion to make a difference, all set to make the most of a rare opportunity. An opportunity presented by the judicial authorities of Chennai, Tamilnadu that welcomed voluntary organizations, to help with proceedings at the State Juvenile Justice Homes. My lot was asked to help out with the Girl’s home, which housed an orphanage for underprivileged children.

After a thorough interrogation, which summed up the attitude of the staff towards ‘outsiders’, the perplexed watchman let us walk through the gates. I watched as the activities came to a stand still and all eyes assessed the ‘Akkas’ (tamil for elder sister) and ‘Annas’ (tamil for elder brother) who had trespassed into their world. There were some hushed speculations as to what our motive might be. Undeterred, we kept pace with our guide who led us to a sprightly group of thirty girls. Clean skirts, clipped nails, two plaits that dangled forth- it was obvious that they had taken some effort to make an impression upon us. Impress us, they did. Be it with their cheeky repartees to questions that undermined their intelligence or their attention to detail that reflected in dance impersonations of Kollywood’s biggest stars. Quite simply, these young girls were made of sterner stuff than the dilapidated buildings, which was their home.

It isn’t as if they lacked the intelligence. It isn’t as if they are denied a basic education. Yet, their minimal interaction with the world outside left them vulnerable to strangers with ulterior motives. The need of the hour was interaction with different individuals that would change their behavioural patterns. In less fancy terms, we were their first taste of the world outside. Through origami, painting and English lessons we had broken past more than just ice. This was more than an arts and crafts class. Children who have the love and support of a family and a secure place to call home would only take back the paints, paper and brushes from these sessions. These girls were learning to colour the bigger picture. These girls were learning to recognize the beautiful mornings even as we taught them the English greeting. Roopa, the artist, Lakshmi the danseuse, Priya, the teacher… this was a start, marked by newfound confidence. Fostering an interaction between the group, teaching them to share and reach out, it’s amazing how wiping the slates clean can bring about such significance. As the pink and purple excitement continued, you couldn’t help but wonder if people would give them a chance to discover themselves? To just be children?

Two fun Sundays later, we were confronted with a strange problem. The girls, who were starved of any male attention and constantly fed on imaginative filmi plots, staked their claim on the Annas, who were their tickets to an escape route. It came as a surprise, because we thought they were responding well to our sessions. Little did we anticipate that this turn would unearth certain ghastly truths.

These girls are only aware of two kinds of men – the men in their families who remained helplessly stricken by poverty, reducing them to the state of orphans and men who took advantage of their naiveté. The few good men who did exist were from the movies. The girls would bare their body and soul, only to be loved by a man. You feel immense pity for a young prostitute, forced into the flesh trade by malicious forces but what you feel for these girls is indescribable. After years of rigid suppression, their hormones eventually get the better of them. It’s almost as if they were left with no choice, but to fall for sleazy innuendos. Since the authorities do everything in their might to keep the men at bay, their sexual frustrations boil over. Lesbianism is rampant amongst the older girls in the orphanage. The situation stands at a stagnant lose-lose. If you rope in the men, you have teenage pregnancies. If you don’t, the girls resort to sexual exploration amongst themselves.

How then could you reach out to make the girls aware of the diverse relationships that a man and woman share? As father and daughter, as teacher and student, as colleagues at any workplace or as best friends? Unfortunately, not much has been done to break these barriers as an empathizing Superintendent delivered the ultimatum- she understood the circumstances better than any of us, but she wasn’t prepared to be harassed by the system. The group could stay if the men opted out.

This was a learning process, indeed. It isn’t always easy to watch your liberal ideas being squashed under rubber chappals. While penning these thoughts down, my attention drifts towards the system itself. While a commendable effort was being made to make operations more transparent, a great deal still remained flawed. The wardens of the homes still continue to employ these girls as free manual labour to clean their quarters in exchange for a tastier meal. Exploitation notwithstanding, I don’t blame any of the girls who grab hold of this opportunity for the meals served at the home gets monotonous. The hugest challenge that the Superintendent faces is the indifference that the girls show towards their staff. If the staff fails to understand their requirements, the consequences range from ripping apart furniture to slashing wrists. This relationship seems to be jostled by desperation at both ends. It should be noted that the staff consider this as a routine government job and remain oblivious to methods of change.

Despite several events that came to light, we persisted, sans the men. As the Sunday trouper’s visits grew more frequent, we earned the grudging cooperation of the hitherto sniggering wardens. Maybe the girls would listen to us, after all. Maybe this was the way to keep them from staging a rebellion. The wardens seemed more willing to let the girls attend our Sunday sessions and at times we were even greeted with a smile.

It’s been over a year now, since we embarked upon this mission. Alright, scratch that. We didn’t change lives overnight. Yet, with time, the equations did change. The constant bickering amongst the girls has lessened. It seems less of an issue now if one group had more sheets of paper to paint on or a few more beads to string together. The tell tale stories of woe didn’t vanish altogether but they make fewer appearances. These small changes accounted for bigger changes in the group’s attitude towards their own lives.

None of this happened because ours is a gifted group. We walked in as just another bunch trying to bridge a divide. There has been more than one occasion where we have yelled at the top of our voices to get a point across or refused to fulfill certain unreasonable demands. It only goes to show that a group such as this will break down the walls, if you are willing to lend them your ears. Is there a point to all of this? There is. I’m sure there are many other groups making an effort to reach out. If you have the time and the will, put your hand up. At the risk of sounding preachy, I shall tell you that this has been one of my better life experiences. If for nothing else, you’ll start to view your life a little differently.

here goes something.

2005-04-16T07:01:00.000-07:00

finally, after days of toying with the idea of doing just this, i have created a blog. yes, people. you now have access to things stuck in my head.