It’s onam again. Being in the college hostel for the past five years, Onam was all about giving our mundu nariyaddum to the laundry guy a month in advance, make reservations for lunch in restaurants, take a zillion snaps, getting them developed and putting them up in our respective hostel rooms ( either framed or with the walls of the room serving as the frame by messily sticking them there) under the caption ‘Me and the gang on Onam’ or something on similar lines. It was also about going to bed on Onam eve with hardly containable excitement, and thinking for the 100th time why God had not gifted you with longer hair just so that you will fit the image of the perfect Malayali girl!!
It was about going shopping in advance for D day to T Nagar (a prominent shopping area in Chennai) in groups, all the while on the lookout for matching bangles, bindis, and earrings. When ordinarily we would brush the mere thought of wearing something Indian on a daily basis as ‘inconvenient’ and ‘ uncool’, we girls were on the lookout for fresh jasmine flowers and chandanam to adorn our foreheads. A blessed handful of girls who knew how to tie a sari with minimal supervision and equally minimal safety pins were all of a sudden much in demand and on Onam morning it was a hilarious sight to see these girls, looking terribly harassed, hopping from one room to another. When normally we would not even spare a thought to anything other than our assignments, project work or the latest movie to hit the theatres, we suddenly find ourselves thinking about Indian mythology and explaining to our friends from other states about the story behind Onam and Mahabali. And most of all, it was about sashaying down the streets of Chennai, revelling in the numerous stares of people who were nice enough to stop and stare with open jaws reaching the ground and their tongues rolled out like a red carpet!!
That was five years back and a lot has changed since then; which does not mean that life has become lacklustre. For what it’s worth, I still have those photographs, whose white flipside once bore the faint yet elegantly written ‘Konica’ across it. But now it is replaced by big ugly patchworks of paint, which stands testimony to the fact that these pictures were once put up in a hostel elsewhere and marvelled at by a group of giggly girls. Now though that hostel seems to have disappeared, the room number 32s, 42s, 56s have gone, and the group of giggly girls have been replaced, these pictures, which are now buried deep under the layers of my attested certificates and resumes, are still taken out lovingly, but this time only to reflect the image of a lone face, blissfully lost in another world.. another time.
So everybody, A VERY HAPPY ONAM TO U ALL!! Lets pray for a world where violence is something of the past. ‘ Treat the earth well; it was not given to you by your parents;it was handed to you by your children. We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors; we borrow it from our children.’
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Monday, August 13, 2007
A WEEKEND AT THE MOVIES
As a fitting tribute to the past week of agonisingly long hours at the computer and extremely wide yawns that can grant any willing soul a peep into your entire oesophagus, I decided to dedicate my weekend to a back to back movie watching session. So I carefully sketched out my weekend by giving a chunk of my time to sleeping and eating and minimal time to socialising, cleaning the house and anything that involved getting up from the couch. The two movies that I chose as worthy of my valuable time and attention were the Malayalam film ‘ Hello’ and ‘Chak de india’
I am gonna waste no time in talking about Mohanlal. If you are a Malayali ( you need not even be remotely interested in films) then rest assured, you know him. To say that I felt like shooting up to the ceiling of the theatre and come back dead, would be an understatement. With Mohanlal in a role that has nothing new to offer, a new actress ( Parvathy something ) who can put a piece of wood to shame when it comes to emoting, and Jagathy who is thoroughly wasted in the movie, I sunk into my seat for a more comfortable position and had a very long and nice nap.
Next came Chak de India. Though I am a Shah Rukh fan, I never really considered him as a good actor. I was always in awe of his larger than life existence, where he is a chain smoker and no one really minds and where he has a back injury and suddenly everyone starts to care. From the time Chak de India was in the news, I could not help wondering what made a movie about hockey that centres on 16 girls appealing to SRK. According to me, what made this movie interesting was that the movie was all about the 16 girls and did not portray SRK as Vijay/Raj who serenades Kajol/ Rani/ Priety in the Swiss Alps for a long overdue change! Main characters like Vidya Sharma ( played by Vidya Malvade), Komal Chautala (Chitrashi Rawat) , Bindia Naik (Shilpa Shukla), Balbir Kaur (Tanya Abrol) , Preethi Sabarwal ( Sagarika Ghatge) and Aliya Bose ( Anaitha Nair) did a great job. I especially loved the scene where all the 16 girls report for training. The unique personalities of the girls were introduced almost immediately to the audience and had also succeeded in hinting at issues like people from the Far East (like Mizoram) being treated differently in their own country and people up north failing to realise the difference between Tamil Nadu, Karnataka and Andhra Pradesh. Though I am not sure whether this movie will help in reviving hockey in our country, I did get a clearer idea about the sport. And btw it looked like a really difficult sport to play than cricket – or does it look like that only on screen?? To sum up, Chak De India came at a time when family entertainers in Bollywood were a priced rarity. Chak De won’t have you cast frequent nervous glances at your already disgusted parents, in the fear that a steamy scene may add to their already erratic heart beat and sky high blood pressure!
So here I am, back to work and dreaming about the upcoming weekend …
I am gonna waste no time in talking about Mohanlal. If you are a Malayali ( you need not even be remotely interested in films) then rest assured, you know him. To say that I felt like shooting up to the ceiling of the theatre and come back dead, would be an understatement. With Mohanlal in a role that has nothing new to offer, a new actress ( Parvathy something ) who can put a piece of wood to shame when it comes to emoting, and Jagathy who is thoroughly wasted in the movie, I sunk into my seat for a more comfortable position and had a very long and nice nap.
Next came Chak de India. Though I am a Shah Rukh fan, I never really considered him as a good actor. I was always in awe of his larger than life existence, where he is a chain smoker and no one really minds and where he has a back injury and suddenly everyone starts to care. From the time Chak de India was in the news, I could not help wondering what made a movie about hockey that centres on 16 girls appealing to SRK. According to me, what made this movie interesting was that the movie was all about the 16 girls and did not portray SRK as Vijay/Raj who serenades Kajol/ Rani/ Priety in the Swiss Alps for a long overdue change! Main characters like Vidya Sharma ( played by Vidya Malvade), Komal Chautala (Chitrashi Rawat) , Bindia Naik (Shilpa Shukla), Balbir Kaur (Tanya Abrol) , Preethi Sabarwal ( Sagarika Ghatge) and Aliya Bose ( Anaitha Nair) did a great job. I especially loved the scene where all the 16 girls report for training. The unique personalities of the girls were introduced almost immediately to the audience and had also succeeded in hinting at issues like people from the Far East (like Mizoram) being treated differently in their own country and people up north failing to realise the difference between Tamil Nadu, Karnataka and Andhra Pradesh. Though I am not sure whether this movie will help in reviving hockey in our country, I did get a clearer idea about the sport. And btw it looked like a really difficult sport to play than cricket – or does it look like that only on screen?? To sum up, Chak De India came at a time when family entertainers in Bollywood were a priced rarity. Chak De won’t have you cast frequent nervous glances at your already disgusted parents, in the fear that a steamy scene may add to their already erratic heart beat and sky high blood pressure!
So here I am, back to work and dreaming about the upcoming weekend …
Thursday, August 9, 2007
THOU SHALL NOT COPY OR PLAGIARISE
Being an English editor cum reporter, my work involves a lot of calling up contacts, typing articles at a speed that can put a jet to shame, failing to meet deadlines hence having abundant scope to nurture the talent of ‘ thinking on one’s feet’ by giving on-the-spot-thought of excuses for not meeting them, giving in the article for publishing with shaky hands and finally, post publishing, have multiple strokes every time the office phone rings in the fear that someone might be calling up to inform me beforehand that they are going to sue me for writing something about/against them.
But work’s fun. Getting to meet people from all the sectors of the society, getting to attend meetings in hotels like Hilton and Marriott which you have always gawked at from a safe distance fearing that someone may charge you for just looking at the building are all perks that come with the job. With time, experience and eyeballs being glued to the screen, you learn how to keep your article free of mistakes and misquotes by rechecking the information till you are ready to rattle off the entire article by heart.
A long time ago, when still at school, I used to regularly contribute my amateurish writings to the supplement of a newspaper back home. Though I used to look forward to reading the paper everyday to check for my article, I partly used to look forward to reading to it for the articles of another regular contributor whose articles used to be one of the main topics of discussion among my friends. His articles and his writing used to so brilliant that among us at least he was a mini celebrity of sorts! Inches of the ‘mailbox’ column were occupied by letters from his fans, all applauding him for his creative and innovative articles.
Until he made the mistake of writing a poem inspired by a popular tv program’s theme song. It was pretty obvious that the piece was a tribute to the tv program. But a reader wasted no time in pointing out that it was a clear case of ‘copying’. The writer responded quickly by saying that it was a tribute to the tv program and in no way had tried to cover the fact that it was based on the theme song. This was all put to a quick end with a letter from the editor which said that when writing a piece which borrows content from another piece, we must always remember to put them under quotes, so that the reader will know that we are not trying to masquerade the writing as our own.
The Dan Brown case and the Kayva Vishwanathan cases have all highlighted every author’s nightmare – plagiarism. The latter had admitted to unconsciously borrowing content from an author whose works she used to avidly read while in high school. And the consequent punishment (which I felt was equal to a death sentence) was to rip off all copies of her books from shelves of many bookstores. Today while writing articles for my magazine, I am always bogged down by the fear of unconsciously borrowing some content from a previously read article or thinking of an idea for an article which may have been dealt with by someone from the 16th century and still be accused of plagiarism!! I understand that the line between copying and getting inspired by someone’s work is indeed very thin, but it is one that must be clearly defined. I have attended seminars back in college where directors have said that if you look around you, you are surrounded by ideas or subjects for any piece of work – be it a movie, novel or anything. But if you happen to deal with a subject matter that bears some resemblance with an old novel or movie, is that plagiarism? Or is that the lesser ‘sin’ of just getting inspired?
But work’s fun. Getting to meet people from all the sectors of the society, getting to attend meetings in hotels like Hilton and Marriott which you have always gawked at from a safe distance fearing that someone may charge you for just looking at the building are all perks that come with the job. With time, experience and eyeballs being glued to the screen, you learn how to keep your article free of mistakes and misquotes by rechecking the information till you are ready to rattle off the entire article by heart.
A long time ago, when still at school, I used to regularly contribute my amateurish writings to the supplement of a newspaper back home. Though I used to look forward to reading the paper everyday to check for my article, I partly used to look forward to reading to it for the articles of another regular contributor whose articles used to be one of the main topics of discussion among my friends. His articles and his writing used to so brilliant that among us at least he was a mini celebrity of sorts! Inches of the ‘mailbox’ column were occupied by letters from his fans, all applauding him for his creative and innovative articles.
Until he made the mistake of writing a poem inspired by a popular tv program’s theme song. It was pretty obvious that the piece was a tribute to the tv program. But a reader wasted no time in pointing out that it was a clear case of ‘copying’. The writer responded quickly by saying that it was a tribute to the tv program and in no way had tried to cover the fact that it was based on the theme song. This was all put to a quick end with a letter from the editor which said that when writing a piece which borrows content from another piece, we must always remember to put them under quotes, so that the reader will know that we are not trying to masquerade the writing as our own.
The Dan Brown case and the Kayva Vishwanathan cases have all highlighted every author’s nightmare – plagiarism. The latter had admitted to unconsciously borrowing content from an author whose works she used to avidly read while in high school. And the consequent punishment (which I felt was equal to a death sentence) was to rip off all copies of her books from shelves of many bookstores. Today while writing articles for my magazine, I am always bogged down by the fear of unconsciously borrowing some content from a previously read article or thinking of an idea for an article which may have been dealt with by someone from the 16th century and still be accused of plagiarism!! I understand that the line between copying and getting inspired by someone’s work is indeed very thin, but it is one that must be clearly defined. I have attended seminars back in college where directors have said that if you look around you, you are surrounded by ideas or subjects for any piece of work – be it a movie, novel or anything. But if you happen to deal with a subject matter that bears some resemblance with an old novel or movie, is that plagiarism? Or is that the lesser ‘sin’ of just getting inspired?
Sunday, August 5, 2007
RAGE MANAGEMENT!
I had recently enrolled for driving classes. Kith and kin were quick to comment that I have just succeeded in taking the first step to moving closer to my ultimate meeting set with the Almighty! Ordinarily, I would have jumped up like a scalded cat and point out why they are wrong. But now, considering facts like finding a hard time while trying to keep hands firmly on the steering wheel in the face of a fast approaching mammoth bus, shattering the eardrums of my hapless driving instructor by giving out shrill albeit short screams while trying to steer the car, I really have to bow down to their judgement.
But while pondering over the matter, I realised that there are many other factors which makes the proposal of driving a car less attractive here. Other than the awful traffic, obvious examples of road rage have often convinced me to keep myself off the roads. I commute to work on a private van which picks up people who are all headed towards the same place; similar to a public bus but smaller and more comfortable. Hence, this means that the van will have to wait for a few seconds to pick up people from each stop. Alls well when the van is on the move but hell breaks loose when the van stops for a second to pick up a person from a stop. A million horns are blared and a million curses grace your ears which makes you jerk up from your seat and think ‘Oh my god! Who killed who??’ A look of panic mixed with embarrassment and disgust while getting into the van is permanently pasted on the face of every passenger while trying to board the van.
It’s Friday evening and you are all dressed to go out shopping (of course window!!). On your way to the mall, you probably got a few stares, yelling, gesturing which may mean anything from ‘are you mad’ or ‘who gave you a license to drive AND kill?’ Mostly we try to come of the situation with our dignity intact by either driving faster than the abusive driver or act like you are from Venus and ignore the person. I personally follow the latter as resorting to the former may just prove the vocal critic cum driver right about my rather questionable driving skills.
In fact I feel that we have reached such a stage wherein the best place to vent out your anger is in a moving car. So if you know of someone who has had a fight with his or her best friend/broke up with girlfriend or boyfriend/forgot to feed his or her pet/got a bad haircut/got off from the left side of the bed, unless you have the skin of a hippo and crocodile combined, you just may not want to go out shopping or visit that favourite restaurant of your’s. Instead try placing orders through your phone – the rising of blood pressures and sore throats after all that screaming and swearing are pretty minimal here.
Its pretty sad actually. I have read numerous articles about this increasing phenomenon of the road rage but now even a normally patient person jumps at the first chance of yelling at someone while on the road.
And I really fail to see why…
But while pondering over the matter, I realised that there are many other factors which makes the proposal of driving a car less attractive here. Other than the awful traffic, obvious examples of road rage have often convinced me to keep myself off the roads. I commute to work on a private van which picks up people who are all headed towards the same place; similar to a public bus but smaller and more comfortable. Hence, this means that the van will have to wait for a few seconds to pick up people from each stop. Alls well when the van is on the move but hell breaks loose when the van stops for a second to pick up a person from a stop. A million horns are blared and a million curses grace your ears which makes you jerk up from your seat and think ‘Oh my god! Who killed who??’ A look of panic mixed with embarrassment and disgust while getting into the van is permanently pasted on the face of every passenger while trying to board the van.
It’s Friday evening and you are all dressed to go out shopping (of course window!!). On your way to the mall, you probably got a few stares, yelling, gesturing which may mean anything from ‘are you mad’ or ‘who gave you a license to drive AND kill?’ Mostly we try to come of the situation with our dignity intact by either driving faster than the abusive driver or act like you are from Venus and ignore the person. I personally follow the latter as resorting to the former may just prove the vocal critic cum driver right about my rather questionable driving skills.
In fact I feel that we have reached such a stage wherein the best place to vent out your anger is in a moving car. So if you know of someone who has had a fight with his or her best friend/broke up with girlfriend or boyfriend/forgot to feed his or her pet/got a bad haircut/got off from the left side of the bed, unless you have the skin of a hippo and crocodile combined, you just may not want to go out shopping or visit that favourite restaurant of your’s. Instead try placing orders through your phone – the rising of blood pressures and sore throats after all that screaming and swearing are pretty minimal here.
Its pretty sad actually. I have read numerous articles about this increasing phenomenon of the road rage but now even a normally patient person jumps at the first chance of yelling at someone while on the road.
And I really fail to see why…
Saturday, August 4, 2007
A SMALL MATTER OF SMALL TALK..
I have always been one of those who stay ominously silent when stepping into an elevator. Even when with friends or family, the moment I step into an elevator, I transform into some kind of a stony faced ice sculpture. When flanked by strangers in an elevator, I feel a tad uncomfortable conversing with people, hence strictly responding with monosyllabic words, a nod or a ‘will answer later’ look. I recently read an article which said that Americans are supposed to be the masters of small talk. Well am no American, but still this finding was of no solace to me.
So I finally decided to take matters into my hand. I decided to observe how others have the presence of mind to talk to someone who they barely know from their neighbouring office. Moreover being in an elevator gives you a time limit that you have to strictly adhere to. You will only have a certain amount of time to say something that will make you sound smarter than you actually are and step out feeling great about yourself! Anything contrary to that can make you a living misery and you may step onto your floor telling yourself that you are never ever going talk in front of anything other than a mirror and unless, understandably, you have a loaded gun pointed at your head.
Amongst others, the most popular opening for small talk is ‘Oh My! This time, the summer is bad!’ or ‘The weather is just getting awful’. Especially in this part of the world where the heat is off the charts, the moment you remark about the weather, you can be assured of forming an instant bond with your fellow elevator mates! Other topics may include the traffic and briefly discuss about the congested roads and again very briefly moan about how you are already late for work. But please, oh please, do not overdo it coz you do not want to come across as a bellyacher. This will guarantee both a sympathetic and keen listener. The escalating rent, the local news, sports have also proved to be popular topics for small talk.
Well if you are not a fan of small talk, here is the best option for you! You can either step into the elevator and ask your elevator mate/s – ‘WHICH FLOOR?’, press the button and wait for your floor ( all the while blissfully devoid of the need for small talk ) or take the stairs!
So, happy small talking!
So I finally decided to take matters into my hand. I decided to observe how others have the presence of mind to talk to someone who they barely know from their neighbouring office. Moreover being in an elevator gives you a time limit that you have to strictly adhere to. You will only have a certain amount of time to say something that will make you sound smarter than you actually are and step out feeling great about yourself! Anything contrary to that can make you a living misery and you may step onto your floor telling yourself that you are never ever going talk in front of anything other than a mirror and unless, understandably, you have a loaded gun pointed at your head.
Amongst others, the most popular opening for small talk is ‘Oh My! This time, the summer is bad!’ or ‘The weather is just getting awful’. Especially in this part of the world where the heat is off the charts, the moment you remark about the weather, you can be assured of forming an instant bond with your fellow elevator mates! Other topics may include the traffic and briefly discuss about the congested roads and again very briefly moan about how you are already late for work. But please, oh please, do not overdo it coz you do not want to come across as a bellyacher. This will guarantee both a sympathetic and keen listener. The escalating rent, the local news, sports have also proved to be popular topics for small talk.
Well if you are not a fan of small talk, here is the best option for you! You can either step into the elevator and ask your elevator mate/s – ‘WHICH FLOOR?’, press the button and wait for your floor ( all the while blissfully devoid of the need for small talk ) or take the stairs!
So, happy small talking!
Thursday, August 2, 2007
LOOKS THAT COULD KILL!
I had recently bid adieu to my student life. Speaking about my student life, I don’t have anything new to share coz half the student population on graduating have done a brilliant job of describing their college life and friends in teary and emotional words. Yes college life was fun, yes I had a great time hanging out with friends, yes I loved dreaming about bunking class but never mustering the courage to do so, yes I did spend a chunk of my college life in the canteen etc etc. So to save time (both your’s and mine) I will just say I had an ordinary yet smashing five years as a student.
However, I had voluntarily decided to put an end to all those years of eating junk and occasional waves of homesickness by deciding to fly back to my nest – Dubai. So with shoulders drooping with the excess carry on luggage and gold coated dreams, I was greeted by family and friends in a way that befits a hostage let free. To make a long story short and less boring, with the initial excitement dying down, spells of staring at the ceiling and wondering what did happen to Amelia Earhart after all and far too much time orkutting, I found myself pouring over classifieds and soon got a job as an English Editor in a trade publication. I always knew that the work culture here was always different from India. But how different can it get? Turns out very different!!
Step into any office here in Dubai, it need not even be an extremely posh one. You are forgiven for re – reading the name of the company after entering the office and for thinking that you have entered a modelling agency by mistake. People are almost always dressed up so well that you can bet some good money that they might be either getting paid a fortune or might be spending a fortune on clothes with no money to spare. Coming from a college where every student could be spotted wearing oversized kurtas and shredded jeans, I found it next to impossible to effortlessly mingle with these people who swear by Armanio, Ralph Lauren and Gucci designs. Soon I found myself very often in extremely hi profile shopping outlets with names I can’t even pronounce and clothes that have price tags that can even stir the dead. Morning coffee was no longer accompanied by the morning newspaper, but by fashion magazines. Soon my oily T zone, my ‘imperfect’ nose and the teeny tiny birthmark above my right eyebrow started to become my life’s biggest woes!
With your earnings being dwindled away at such a rapid rate, it does not take too long for any person to come right back on track, as I have. I have now learnt that, yes looks do matter but it should not rob you of a peaceful night’s sleep! Nothing is worth all that trouble and by the end of the day, it’s your confidence and attitude that will make you stand out in a crowd of Victoria Beckham, Kate Moss, Penelope Cruz and Aishwarya Rai look-alikes!
So now life is back to being all rosy again..!:)
However, I had voluntarily decided to put an end to all those years of eating junk and occasional waves of homesickness by deciding to fly back to my nest – Dubai. So with shoulders drooping with the excess carry on luggage and gold coated dreams, I was greeted by family and friends in a way that befits a hostage let free. To make a long story short and less boring, with the initial excitement dying down, spells of staring at the ceiling and wondering what did happen to Amelia Earhart after all and far too much time orkutting, I found myself pouring over classifieds and soon got a job as an English Editor in a trade publication. I always knew that the work culture here was always different from India. But how different can it get? Turns out very different!!
Step into any office here in Dubai, it need not even be an extremely posh one. You are forgiven for re – reading the name of the company after entering the office and for thinking that you have entered a modelling agency by mistake. People are almost always dressed up so well that you can bet some good money that they might be either getting paid a fortune or might be spending a fortune on clothes with no money to spare. Coming from a college where every student could be spotted wearing oversized kurtas and shredded jeans, I found it next to impossible to effortlessly mingle with these people who swear by Armanio, Ralph Lauren and Gucci designs. Soon I found myself very often in extremely hi profile shopping outlets with names I can’t even pronounce and clothes that have price tags that can even stir the dead. Morning coffee was no longer accompanied by the morning newspaper, but by fashion magazines. Soon my oily T zone, my ‘imperfect’ nose and the teeny tiny birthmark above my right eyebrow started to become my life’s biggest woes!
With your earnings being dwindled away at such a rapid rate, it does not take too long for any person to come right back on track, as I have. I have now learnt that, yes looks do matter but it should not rob you of a peaceful night’s sleep! Nothing is worth all that trouble and by the end of the day, it’s your confidence and attitude that will make you stand out in a crowd of Victoria Beckham, Kate Moss, Penelope Cruz and Aishwarya Rai look-alikes!
So now life is back to being all rosy again..!:)
A PROLOGUE
For all those not in the know (and by that I mean a significant portion of the human race), yesterday was my birthday. So in the midst of all the cake cutting ceremonies, shouts of HAPPY BRITHDAY!!! and the quick - to – follow question WHERE IS THE TREAT?, I thought maybe its high time that I started writing down my thoughts and experiences, just for the heck of it! so here it is..a potpourri of news!!
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