End of the era of selfishness

In so many ways you show me what I mean

In so many ways, you show me my place.

It just makes it easier for me..

Easier to understand that you are not the man for me.

You are so not worth it. 

When pants hang low, pull

What do you do when you see a guy with his trousers hitched so low on his non-existent hips, that one tug would have them on the floor? You tug. That's what you do. Or you do what I did. Tug mentally, smile impishly. And find the trousers on the floor. :)

Last weekend found me with two friends walking down this scenic beach-front road in Mumbai. One just-turned-20 guy was at a corner shop buying what guys buy from corner shops normally. And his pants were riding low, way low on his skinny body. Low enough to display a thick line of muddy blue underwear on brown skin. Yes, that low.

Low enough to make me want to pull it down just so I could tell him,

" There. Mission accomplished." 

 And while I looked at him straight in the face and contemplated the mental tug, the pants slid off his hips. Slid. Right. Off. His. Hips.

The boy caught them mid-slide, almost near his knees and looked accusingly at me. I was a safe 50 yards away from him. My friend and I were laughing quite unabashedly at him and he then had the good sense to look sheepish.

We continued walking, not letting the laughter break our stride, but I couldn't resist a 'pallat moment'. I looked back, and his pants were again riding dangerously low.

Sigh. This generation I tell you!!!

Can we??

Can I wrap you up in a song and make you the song itself?
Can you hum to me, that song?

Can I look behind one more time, because I am sure you will be there?
Can you see the sunshine within me?

Can I scold you to my heart's content, because you know I am just doing it to irritate you?
Can you keep making that frustrated face everytime I say something completely irrational?

Can I whine to my heart's content to you, because I know you wont judge me for it?
Can you keep trying to fill that void that has just opened up inside me? Some day it will fill..

Can I keep shopping for those little things that you don't even know you will need around your house?
Can you keep surprising me in all those little and small things that you do?

Can we keep forming these little traditions of ours? These little things which is always what you do, and these other things that are always my doing...

A quick unfinished story

Friends Forever. Turned into blossoming infatuation. Forever couple. Is it love? Maybe not yet..

Distance, misunderstandings, arguments, fights and lies. A couple broken before love could happen. Friends again. Happy for each other's happiness.

He falls for someone again. She is happy with someone else again. They are happy in their own worlds. What could be, is a question and a doubt that will forever remain unexplored. A chance meeting, a stolen kiss. Nothing more, back to their happy worlds.

Kids turn into adults. Turn of maturity. Time for permanency. He is thinking of marrying his girl, she is still looking for love, although just happy with someone else.

A sudden encounter. It tears her up that his intense feelings for her are now for someone else. It tears him up that she was never this happy with him. A stolen night.

A few days, stolen from the world. Guilt. Knowledge that this could work. All it needs is effort.

But its too late now. Back into the worlds they built. The doubt, the question will forever remain incomplete. Because just a few days are not enough. They were forever friends. The forever part had magnanimous implications. Torn souls, forced into being friends.

Not happy as more than that, unhappy at less than that.

Striving to love myself..

The first time I was told I was ugly, it was my 11th birthday. I had worn what my mother had picked out for me, checkered shorts with a silver belt, and a black tee-shirt with something silver on it- I was quite skinny that time. You know you dress well in school for your birthdays, distribute chocolates? When I was doing that, my so-called brother Amey, pulled me closer and said

"I know I shouldn't say this to you today, but you look ugly. Why are you wearing that?"

I never wore that outfit again. I steadily gained weight that year on. Sometime when I was 13, I had my first crush, and the guy told me I was beautiful, and I did not believe him.

When I was 16, I was in a theatre group. I was one of the youngest there. The two other sixteen year olds were reed thin, I was, by now, plump and chubby, as everyone would call me. Obviously I never got the main part, until in the end I was given one as charity. One guy who was dating one of the reed thin girls, once remarked out loud,

"Girls just look so breath-takingly beautiful with wet hair."

The three of us had just come in from the pouring rain. We all had wet hair. We all looked at each other at this statement. The guy smiled and then after a pause said,

"But not you Pragni, your hair is horrible, how can you ever look good"

I have been out with models, a dangerous looking guy, an ok-looking guy, a gayish-looking guy, intelligent guys, rich guys, one player or casanova and one semi-celebrity too. But I have never believed myself to be worth them, physically or looks-wise.

I hate it, and I hate admitting it, but everytime one of the guys here tell me I look beautiful, I pause for a moment. That pause is to convince myself that even if I don't think so, maybe they do. They are not saying it to please me. They are not saying it out of any obligation. They mean it.

Till a really long time, everytime someone told me I looked good, my instant reaction would be "yea, right" or "Stop kidding around?", until one day, R got really angry with me and told me that he wouldn't say it if he dint mean it, and I d better start believing him or saying it out right that I did not trust him.

I said, "I don't know what other reaction to give!"

Said he, "Try thank you. It normally works."

I did not believe my thank you's after that for a long time too.

It's just recently that I have admitted to my being very very conscious about my body. About my self image. And admitted it in front of friends and now publicly. I know this is not going to liberate me. But maybe, somewhere along the line, I will be re-introduced to my self-esteem. Ironically, I do not lack in the department of self-confidence. Funny how I have made that thin line so thick for me.



P.S - Last two days of the pills. I promise this confess all mode will stop then and so will the sappiness.

Innnn-Out. Innnn-Out.

Breathe. Breathe harder. Slow. Innnn-Out. Innnnn-Out.

He had "quit" smoking. Except for yesterday when he had a couple. And a few days before that when he had a few at a party. But he had quit. Really.

It’s just the room you know. Too many people. Innnn-Out. Innnn-Out.

He was choking on his emotions. She had just entered the room.

Flying Alone

Flying by yourself is magical. It’s magical when you know how to not think. To snap out of everything the minute you end that last call and switch the bloody nuisance of a phone off. Its magical when you select a movie, see it, forward the parts you want to forward, see another movie, supposedly a sappy one which your friends refused to see with you, tear up a bit with a chocolate not having to worry about damaging your macho reputation, see another movie your friends saw when you were not in town, accompany the movie with a glass of terrible tasting wine.

When you pick and chose what you want to eat in the lunch/brunch tray provided to you, wonder for a bit if its really vegetarian, and then because there is no one to verify, try a bit, and leave it because it tastes bad, not because it tastes like meat.

When you try to surreptitiously look around the plane for any guys worth trying to catch a second glimpse of.

When you curl up on the seat adjacent, without worrying about disturbing someone else’s peace.

When you spot that female with beautiful hair, and try to catch a glimpse of her face to see if it matches with the wonderful hair. (It did)

When you get off at the connecting airport, see a model of something you know your best friend would love, and pick it up for him without worrying about how it will damage your credit card conversion.

Because, after ages, there is Marathi floating around you in speech bubbles. And the shrill Saathiya ringtone ringing somewhere, with a mother calling out to her child in Gujarati, a Parsi wife asking her husband to speak softly, a muslim guy spiffing his hair up to impress that wonderful hair female mentioned above, an old uncle in a safari suit carrying a peti around, and a young kid in military pants trying to steal his sister’s ipod. And you are absorbing it in all alone, and smiling contently.

When you happily think about only those patchy parts of an issue you want to think about. The rest will be thought about when anyone else is concerned about it. You are not at the instant.

Because when you finally get 12 hours just for yourself, you enjoy them like never before.

Flying with yourself is magical, but somehow at the beginning of the journey you always wish you had someone standing in the security check line with you, with their arms around you.

But, I love flying with myself. Because I am not alone, I have me for company.

There are people..

There are people who are not different. They are the difference.

People who don't just solve a problem, they let you reach the solution.

People who get hurt when you are hurt, and when they want to be there for you.

People who sit with you on a bus stop and talk about the most random things about your past, that you never thought you would share. At least not with someone who you know from just a few weeks.

People for whom you don't have to care about how long you know them from, but all you care if how long they will be yours.

People who's departure, as distant as it is, disturbs you enough to consider a departure too.

People who mean your microcosm to you. A world of your own, and no one else outside understands it.

People who you feel so close to, that you are shocked when you see that others are that close, or closer to them.

People who you don't necessarily talk hours to on the phone, every day. But when you do? that once in a while becomes minutes without your knowing it.

People who sometimes have the power and ability to finish your sentences, mouth your thoughts and crave the same things as you.

People who encourage you so silently that their confidence in you shows.

People who don't think about what they are missing out on, as long as you are happy..

People who you know will not go into super sentimental mode, just because the occasion is so.

People who you know will react rationally, but so super funnily that you will actually be on the floor laughing.

People who have a quiet strength around them, that gives you warmth too.

People who hug you so tight, you forget your entire day in that moment, and who peck you so sweetly, it feels like it's their birthright.

People who you want to be in your life forever, as a part of this parallel family.

People who teach you the art of parallel thinking, a parallel thought for every statement issued.

People who have the art of keeping an absolute poker face, while dishing out the fatalest of jokes and concealing the deepest of secrets.

People who are always game to try something new, no matter what, as long as it is not illegal.

People who you know will wrap you in their embrace when you are too out of your mind to string coherent words together.

People who don't need to be told what exactly is your choice, your taste and your selection. They know it because it fits them perfect.

People who just come to mean so much, there are no words to express how lucky you think you are to have them in your life.



Dhum, you are all this to me. And more. Happy Birthday!! I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been a part of my life. I love you.

A butterfly bond

He was not the person she expected him to be.

No, he didn't deceive her. But, he was just not who she had brought to life in her mind. Who she had put all her faith in, all her trust in. He was not him. He was different.

"But how am I different?"

She didn't know. Different. Maybe a good different for some other girl, but not the different she would have loved.

Maybe she was not what he had thought she would be too. She didn't know. She asked him, she never kept such things in her mind, hidden, but he didn't give her a direct yes or no. And they had always had a direct yes or no relationship. But he tried. She knew he tried his best to create what both had had in mind before they had met. But because he was not who she thought he would be, she did not think it possible.

He still said he would do anything for her, but she did not believe him anymore. He was not him. She did not trust him in the same way too. She just couldn't tell him what was in her mind. She wanted him to at least know that something was on her mind, she would pave the rest of the path, but he seemed ignorant to that. He admitted that she could still read him in the same way, but she didn't really believe it. She wanted to, desperately, but she didn't.

She had wanted more. But she couldn't put a finger on what was that more. It wasn't more love, more affection. more warmth, more trust. It was just more of him. She felt like he was not putting all of himself out there, like he had done before. But he couldn't do that.

She wanted an attachment which was solid, where they looked out for one another no matter what, without actually hovering on top all the time. Just by knowing it. She wanted to have guy talks with him, go girly shopping with him and just go between the night for a walk together, grab some coffee. They ended up liking the same coffee, but not wanting to go for walks together.She missed the bond they had formed. She had come to think of it as everything. As her support system, her sounding wall and her cheer-up valley. She didn't know if he had weaved the same kind of web around him, but she knew even she was not all this for him anymore. She believed she was once. It wasn't love, or any such grave thing, but it was a deep deep trust. Which was supposed to have solidified when they met, not dissolved into something weaker. Something more humane.


She din't want humane, she didn't think he did. Not the he that she knew. But that was all that was left. A light, teasy, butterfly kind of a bond.

There was a girl

She had a strong voice, but it was pleasant and confident to the ears. Very masculine. Too heavy, but soft. Never sounds like what I think it sounds like.

A large frame, broad shoulders and an interesting, open face. God, I wish I was tiny, I tower over everyone. I wish I had even a little bit of the look on my face. I wish I knew how to Look.

An assertive personality, a strikingly comforting style of dressing in smart clothes which suited her well, but were not exclusive designer material. Frumpy. I look huge in this. I can never wear that small little tank top that I think is so cute. I will always have to chose comfort over style.

She was always ready to try new things, learn more. Intelligent but watned more knowledge. Talented to an average person's level. That is interesting. I would love to be able to be just naturally good at that. Or that. Oh I wish I had some natural flair for something at least.

She spoke less and only when she had something to say. Over the years she realized she did not need to opinionate everytime. My opinions are biased. I need a lot more knowledge and information backing just statements.

She asked a lot of questions since her childhood- relevant and irrelevant- in her clear strong voice. Goodness, where are all these thoughts coming from? Am I sounding like a freak? Shit! Questions again!!

She wasn't the top scorer in her class- but for some reason her classmates always thought she was. Her comments, opinions and ideas always induced everyone to think that. Her confident views, spoken quietly with her assertiveness always impressed. I need to score better marks. My family expects me to be the highest. They think I am so intelligent, I wish I could just tell them that I am not. Really I am not. I am the anomaly in the family. The one dull one. And these people in my class think I am intelligent just because I speak less. I wish they would stop expecting me to be so brainy too.

Everytime after she spoke, one thought ran before and after through her mind.
Maybe I should just shut up. No one wants to hear me speak.
No one wanted to hear that. Why did I even open my mouth.

Random jokes at 3 in the night..

Pal: I love Paki singers..

DhUm: Youtube is banned there..

Pal: Why is the song not playing??

Pause

Me: Because youtube is banned there?

----

Pal: Why is the video quality so bad?

Piks: Because it's coming from a place where it is banned?

Pal: ...



We are studying while this conversation is played out. We are crazy. I know. :)

She never existed..

What happened to the girl who never thought before doing, saying or wanting anything? When did people start telling her that you think too much..

What happened to the girl who had supreme confidence in her skills and talent? When did she start fearing her own karmabhoomi so much that she wouldn't touch it with a barge pole..

What happened to the girl who was the center of all parties? When did she start hating, abhorring attention..

What happened to the girl who firmly believed in love, and knew it would happen at the right time? When did she start believing that she did not deserve love and there was no way in hell anyone would even think of her that way..

What happened to the girl who had all the traits of growing up into a teenage girl, young girl and a woman? When did she start thinking that she was just not good enough to ever be considered a woman..

What happened to the girl who looked in the mirror and loved what she saw?

She Never Existed at all...

Our perceptions of beauty are very surreal, framed and conditioned by a society who wants perfection and rejects anything else. And the outer appearance counts for so much that the inner person starts hating herself for what she does not look like, even though everytime she visualizes herself, its someone different. And everytime she sees the mirror she realized that she was not what she thought and visualized herself to be. She did not have that sculpted jaw line, well defined cheek bones or even the large almond shaped eyes.

Everytime she went to an interview, met someone important, she thought why the hell would they be interested in whats up, down, right or left in my life.. Because she did not look like a star, she assumed they would immediately reject her, they definitely wanted pretty people in their offices.

Because all the while.. She did not exist at all..



Cross-Posted at http://tangentialthinking.wordpress.com/

Who said Voice Message system was stupid!!!

Whirrr Click.. You have reached the Voice Mailbox of.... ~The Dream Catcher~.

You have... Nine new messages..

First Message - Benaa, where are you.. every time we call your phone goes to your voice mailbox. Call back quick (Mom)

Second Message - Hey, I am really sorry. Din't mean to upset you, I just said what I said because you said that she did not know what you said, and I did not know if she knew so I just did not say anything. I hope you got what I said. Mumble-mumble mumble. Call me back, k? (Dreamer, friend over here)

Third Message - Paraaaggg, where are you yaar. Throw, just throw your phone away. I reallllyy need to talk to yaar. What is this yaar. I will call you later ok? Take care yaaaarrr.. (Mr. Pilot)

Fourth Message - Bena, tel lagava ja. (Literaly translated - Go apply oil, actually means - GET LOST). Hmphh. Call me back. QUICKLY. (Mom)

Fifth Message - This is an automated message for Rwanda Cole. Are you Rwanda Cole? You have $ 5400 left in debt with United Colors of Benetton due to the over limit purchasing of $ 5300. Please pay your dues. Thank you Rwanda Cole. (Unknown debt payment system that insists that I am Rwanda Cole, although I have replied in the negative to her initial question atleast half a dozen times)

Sixth Message - BETA!! Mom is waiting for your call. Where are you? Why aren't you calling back? Quick. (Dad)

Seventh Message - Bena, never mind. If you are studying then call on my cell after you are done ok? (Brother)

Eight Message - Love, are you ok? Call. ( Mom)

Ninth Message - Static... Pause.... Cough.... Click.



Voice Messages are fun!!!!

Now that mom dad have gone back to India, wonder who will leave so many messages :(

Being a Non-Conformist..

Increasingly, I realize that I don't belong to the groups that are formed in typical situations. I have often been a part of huge communities, but I have always emerged as the sore thumb.

Its been like that since I passed out from school. During school years, the bond formed were too deep, and in fact they were all formed coz each person being a sore thumb in their own way. College, I made just one friend in my entire class of 60.

Another place where I belong is the virtual world. I blogged with a passion when I started. It's mellowed down, gone through a lot of thought processes, and reached an ad hoc state. An understandum, as it can be said.

Anyway, here too, I stand out as a sore thumb. In the entire blog world, I as usual don't fit. I was very happy to meet my fellow bloggers, delighted to make their acquaintance. But then, I have resumed my normal role of being the observer, watching from a distance. And I quite realize that I am happier not conforming to the group.

I feel better for not having slipped into the well-placed slot in these groups. None of these slots fit around me. Trying to conform with these moulds feels like wearing an ill-fitting tee and and a scratchy, too tight pair of jeans.

Your identity is supposed to be something that is so you, something that you are comfortable in, right?

So there, I am glad I'm not a conformist. I am so happy being a non-conformist, a sore thumb and a loner, as a professor has once called me. Because it is because of this quality that I find those very few people who understand my need for silence, standing apart, and my non-tolerance for inane stupidity. Like my family of course. Also pRi, Dhanno and Tag.

Things I learnt today..

"There is a limit to how important you can be your friends and how important they
can be to you, but there is absolutely NO limit to how important you will be for
your family and how important your family will be for you."

"No matter who does or does not, your family will ALWAYS stand besides you."

"Its disconcerting to think when someon else sitting next to you is also
thinking, and looking the part.."

Revelation after the Class of '84

Disclaimer: Everyone mentioned in this post, is non-fictional, but their fictitious names hold no resemblance or connection to their real names at all. If you feel that I have referred to you in this post, then please refrain from questioning me about it. I will not be able to answer in the affirmative or negative. If you are sure you are mentioned and want to give in your two bits, then you are most welcome.


After I spent an afternoon venting out my inner fury on paints and glass, and trying to harbor some kind of a working peace, I finally ventured out for a play. A play I had been meaning to catch from quite a long time. Class of '84.

By the time I left my home, I was agitated and piqued. "I'll never understand relationships," I said to myself. From the last few days, I have been trying to understand the relationships I share with my friends. I have been highly confused, resulting in irritable, resulting in rude and resulting in absolute solitary confinement.

And this was the perfect time to see Class of '84...

I searched Google all I could, but I got no pics, so people reading this will just have to visualize my words. A play about 8 friends, one death, one beach house, one mystery person and several interlinked relationships.

We have Raveena Mehra, ex-girlfriend of Jojo, now married to Sanjay Mehra (Rituraj) who is a stifled housewife, who has a lot of reality effused into her character. She is married to a man who is a banker by day, banker by night, and a husband and father, every alternate Sundays and a pompous ass at all times.

Jojo, is the dead one. The gang has come together for his funeral, and have then bunked the night at Ravz' and Sanjay's beach house. And over the course of the play, we realize that he was a hot tempered, loyal, and fierce activist of social causes. He has also died a mysterious death.

Sarah Musa is a page 3 columnist who mixes with the high-flyers and writes columns in several newspapers about sex, scandal and whathaveyou. She comes across as an opportunist with a good enough reason to be so, and a practical woman who oozes sex appeal at all times.

Raghu aka Ragz (my pet name too!!), is a failed film maker, still waiting for his big break. He has some liaisons which are deadly, and is a cynical, angry man. His Mallu ass is wanted by quite the wrong kind of people. He is a baddie on the outside, always pulling people down, but a softie inside.

Bobby (Rajat Kapoor), is a small time actor, wanting to make it big. He has done one serial, "Inspector Raj, Apradhiyo ka Yamraj," which just goes through reruns now. He is coveting that one break too, which would push him into big league.

Cyrus, also called as Charsi in the play, is constantly stoned Parsi smoking pot. He has a so-called inheritance to his name, and has had a thing for sexy Sarah for the last 22 years. But he never told her any. He supposedly owns a restaurant styled shack in Goa which is not really his anymore.

Fuzzy or whatever her real name in the play is ( Paro Chisti actually), is another Parsi female, desperate for a guy in her life, an feng-shui expert, and a breathing and pranayam expert. She is slow with jokes, is apprehensive of saying SEX, and is the constant butt of jokes in her gang. She thinks of the gang as her family.

Now these 8 people have drifted apart over the years, and been sporadically in touch with each other. There are a lot of undercurrents flowing between each relationship, and each character. The friends pull each other's leg, rag a person's failure, but the silent support is still there. Despite the fact that each character, and by that I mean each and every character has a flaw. If i reveal these, then I'll be revealing the plot so I will just shut-up with that much. But inspite of these flaws, all the friends support each other. They don't judge the person on his failures or shortcomings of character. Each character has a secret he or she is holding on to, which contributes to the entire suspense in someway, but by the end of the play, they bond together, come close and while some reveal their secrets, some prefer not telling all. Jojo's friend Nikki, Zafar Karanchiwala (THE HUNK!!), spills a lot of beans, and plants himself where he does not originally belong, in the beach house.

From the past few days, I have been battling with relationship issues. Not the girlfriend-boyfriend kinds, but all kinds of relationships. I have been questioning the behaviour and the character flaws of the people who I associate with. I have been questioning their flaws, and wondering that if they are so flawed why would I take the friendship ahead.

There was someone, lets say S, who dithered from hard-work. Extremely loyal to friends, but when it comes to the team, S turned selfish. Not only are S' priorities unbalanced, but the definition of right and wrong is often sullied by personal preferences. I have had a falling out with S once before too, when S asked me for my opinion, and brutal that I am with words, I spilled out the hard truth, which dint sit too well with the receptive party. Then I had decided to not ever dole out my opinion to S. Even if the consequences S had to to face because of that were worse. When the team was to be given flak for bad work, S escaped, tail between legs (दुम दबाके kinds), which I found disgusting. I discussed this with a common friend, who tried to explain to me, that people had to be accepted with their flaws. And I refused. I said I was under no obligation to remain friends with S, just because of fierce loyalty towards me once before.

I had been dissecting this and agonizing over it.

And then, a friend of mine, N, who became close to me in the most offhanded manner possible, unconsciously cast me in the same mould as his other friends. This is seriously unacceptable to me. When I am close to someone, and when someone is close to me, it is an individual thing. I don't expect to me cast in the same mould as the rest of the people around. This made me rethink my relationship here. I was expecting too much out of someone who did not even think along those lines. But if my close friend can't think along my lines, then who can?

Another, say K, is just has hot-headed as me. But in anger, K says things, which hurt and which might not necessarily be true. I wondered if I should hold on for the sake of the relationship, or let go when it becomes too much for me take.

After constantly snapping at one and all, carrying around a rude disposition and trying to unwind with painting, its the play that helped.

S could be accepted with the faults, I realized, I just needed to draw a line about how much S would matter to me. Not much, I decided, and hence S will remain nothing more than just a friend. S and S' actions need not mean more. Meaning that I wouldn't cut off myself completely but I sure would know where to limit myself.

The next friend, N, too was not totally wrong. I was just focusing too much on the mould. I would just continue being unpredictable, and different, and then we would see how much of the mould fit me. And I did not want to, and did not need to be that consious about N after all.

K, was a difficult matter, because K was among those who you never let go off. Even if the distances increases, the relationship blooms quietly. And I realized, that if I'd just keep my calm for a few days, try to get things back to normal, and tell K, that I value and have faith in our friendship. That no matter what, the only thing which would keep me sane would be knowing that K is hurting. Things would be fine.

Another friend, J, also one of those who you never let go off, was getting back to normal with me. J and me had a falling out. Issues over behaviour and rights. But things were getting back to normal in the past few days. This relationship did not confuse me, but backed me more.

I came home calm and collected. My mind had stopped murdering itself. Things were clearer, and my vision was crystal. I had a lovely time, saw a lovely play, had an awesome dinner with my parents, and came back home late enough to sleep while writing this blog. Peace in my dreams and peace in my life.

BTW-
Rajat Kapoor is absolutely brilliant. He essays his role to perfection, so much so that even his body language is typically that of Mumbai's wannabe star, who dresses dhinchak, talks big, and has nothing in his hand actually. His one liners, "one shot straight on the spot", are hilarious and the spine of the play. Ravz is so casually normal that one would almost believe that she really is a mother of two, and the wife of a banker. Rituraj plays pompous ass, Sarah is a sex kitten and Fuzzy is the scatter-brained little girl, aching for a baby and a man in her life. All have done justice to their roles. Ragz is pretty good, as is Cyrus. Then we come to Zafar, I might be biased about this, because I have always admired the guy, since his Hip Hip Hurray days. Zafar is absolutely slick, charming and young dashing guy, who manages to sweep them all of their feet. All eight characters, share amazing chemistry and a very evident comfort level.

The plot is a little weak. No, actually, the climax is ill-handled. a let-down more like. Not an anti-climax, but not quite a climax too. But the theme and feeling of the play has been well communicated the audience.

It's easy to forgive the small little flaws.. in the play, in life
and in our relationships, if we concentrate on the better part of the road we are travelling on...

India v/s Sri Lanka: A Predictable Match - Yet So Disappointing

From 5 in the evening, I was glued to the Idiot Box. I had predicted that India would lose, but that was no huge feat. Half the cricketing world must have predicted that. But i was hopeful, which was also no different, all of India was hoping for the best.

When finally the toss took place at 6:30, I heaved a sigh of relief. India had won the toss, and Dravid, as usual, sensibly chosen bowling. When the first Sri Lankan wicket fell, there was an audible sigh which arose from my entire complex. Really. We could hear it. Everyone has their quirks about cricket. Mine is, that if I shut my TV off for 15 minutes or half an hour, a Sri Lankan wicket was sure to fall. And that happened. Our fielding was good. Near the end, and Sri lanka had not scored that well, not unbelievably... it was still possible. The demon called hope was roaring. I distinctly remember hoping that Silva would go. I shut the TV off again, surely the last few wickets would fall before the 50 overs were up. But when I switched the TV on, Sri Lanka had completed their innings with a score of 254. WHAT??? When I last saw it was on 211, whic only a few overs left. How could it reach 254. But it did. Gory truth.


Sachin got clean bowled, Yuvraj Run Out, Dhoni LBW. What was happening?? India was falling down like a house of cards. Dravid swung a few fours, attempted for a six, failed and got caught in the process. When Sachin got out, I told my friend T, we are gonna get run out. At 160 somewhere.. She said she dint expect even that much. I dint too, but I knew they would do 160 to 180 at least. I do hate my black tongue sometimes. And damn that Murli guy.


Now India has only one last hope of staying in the World cup. If Bangladesh loses against Bermuda. Not only does that seem like a far-fetched hope, it even seems like a dependant hope. Or more like Charity. Where it wont be the our team that'll get India into the Super 8 but another team's folly.

Sri Lankan Skipper Jayawardene said. ''India still has a chance, cricket's a funny game.'' While apna Dravid said, ''No one realizes the enormity of the defeat more than the players, I don't think anyone is more disappointed than the team. We all had hopes and dreams from the World Cup, an opportunity like this comes once in four years.'' Which is quite true, the dejected faces of the team were another tug to the heart. Wish they had avoided this by playing well.

I am not much of an expert on Cricket, neither am I a die-hard fan. Just another Indian, heart broken because of the match. I wonder why we said, Khelega toh Jeetega.. don't we know we hardly play under pressure situations...

Mandira Bedi and me...

"Has Mandira Bedi put on weight?" asks my mother, early in the morning at 10 when I have just slunk onto my chair for my life-saving element; coffee.

But the phrase 'put on weight' wakes me up completely, "I have"

Mom makes a face." Mumbai Mirror says that Mandira Bedi has put on weight, her hair is tousled, and her look is messy." "So what's so bad about that," I grumble,"I am all of that and more.."

"She needs to cover her arms and not wear tight stuff around her bust."

"Ah.. well..."

"She needs to wear her khadi kurta, pick up a jhola and go back to direction," says Mum quoting Prahalad Kakkar.

"I already wear khadi kurats, I already carry a corduroy jhola cum bag, and I want to go back to direction, if Prahalad Kakkar will take me."

"Her hair is tossed wrong and is shorter than last year" that's from some other designer or so..

"My hair is tossed, no rights and wrong about it, and at any and everytime of the day it is flying in mutinous directions, and it is shorter than last year too."

She wore plunging neck lines, halters and noodle straps last year.

"Uhh.. trump card, I was never fit enough to wear any of the three."

Mum sighs deeply and says.. these celebrities, even if they put on five Kgs of weight, it's so evident.

Aaah.. looks like she has forgotten that I'v put on five Kgs too. "How does it matter either ways Mum?"I ask wearily.

"But it shows on you too." she growls suddenly!!

Maybe that's why I've been having these mood swings...

Mumbai University's very own National Theatre Fest

On the occassion of the 'World Theatre Day' , the Academy of Theatre Arts, University of Mumbai , brings for Mumbaikars a bouquet of India's finest plays, in an 11-day 'National Vasant Natya Mahotsav'.

The Mahotsav, to be staged between March 22 and April 1, 2007 at the Kalina Campus of the University of Mumbai , will present plays by renowned directors like Ratan Thiyam, Ramesh Verma and Ranjit Kapoor.

Famous Indian theatre groups like the Chorus Repertoire Company from Manipur, The National School of Drama Repertoire Company and the Mysore Rangayan will be performing in Mumbai after a long time. "This is the speciality of the festival. There will be plays in various Indian languages by some of the prominent directors this country has produced," says Mr Waman Kendre, Director of the Academy. Along with this, several theatre luminaries like Anupam Kher and Naserrudin Shah too might grace the festival. Professor Waman Kendre himself is a very famous Marathi Theatre artist.

Some of the outstanding plays that Mumbaikars will have the pleasure of watching are:

Chakravyuha directed by Ratan Thiyam. This Manipuri play has been staged over a 100 times around the globe by the Chorus Repertoire Company.

Maya Sita Prasanga directed by Ramesh Verma from Kerala. This Kannada play is one of the more famous works of Mr Verma.

The NSD Repertoire Company will bring its famous plays Ram Nam Satya Hai and Shortcut.

Shri. Ratan Thiyam's equally important play Ritusamharam will also be presented in this festival.

Mr Kendre will present his famous play Janeman, which is based on the life of Hijras or Eunuchs. The adaption of the Greek Tragedy Oedipus too will be presented twice. This play is called Vedhapashya.

The entry for this festival is free. But the catch being that interested people need to pick up the Free Entry Card at the Kalina Campus of Mumbai University. The passes will be available from 20th March,2007 between 11 a.m. to 5 a.m. at Academy ofTheatre Arts, Dr.Babasaheb Ambedkar Bhawan, 2nd floor, Vidyanagari Campus, Kalina, Santacruz(E), University of Mumbai. The organizers of this festival are available on these numbers for any other detailed inquiry: 022-26508200, 9869115199, 9820686506. The festival will take place at Marathai Bhasha Bhawan as well as at Muktakkash Rangamanch, Lecture Hall Complex,Vidyanagari, Kalina Campus.

Cross-posted on Mumbai Metblogs

Salaam-E-Ishq...Deserves no Salaam's

Dialogue pre-Salaam-e-Ishq between Nikhil Advani (Director) and Suresh Nair ( Producer)

Nikhil Advani (NA) - Hmm, after Kal Ho Na Ho, I wil have to prove my mettle as a stand alone director without Karan Johar's Backing..

Suresh Nair(SN)- So how do you plan to do that?? you will need a solid script and a solid casting for that if you want to do it without Johar or Chopra backing..

NA- Hey!! How about we take six scripts instead of one, and instead of just a lead hero and heroine, we take a dozen. Dozen ka bhaav sasta padta hai na??...

SN- Hmm, its an idea.. If we take six different kinds of scripts then we can even take six or seven differnt songs. And looking at so much will occupy enough braincells of the Audience hence the technical nitty gritties like directing and editing will not matter to them.

NA- We'll try to rope in a couple of actors who have crossed their hey days, and if we can we'll even put in a pardeshi mem.. we'll put in one middle aged couple, one married struggling couple, one to be married couple and one in love couple. The sixth one can be the just married today kind of a couple. Hmm, I think we also put in a mix of locales. One location will be London or paris, one will be Mumbai ofcourse, then we have Delhi, Udaipur/Rajasthaan, and ofcourse a U.P type setting for the rural crowd.

SN- And we'll put in one Item number type of song, one or two marriage and sangeet wala song, one romantic number, one sad number, one will be proper dhinchak bollywood number and one can be a soft making love number. Oh for the oldies we'll even throw in a old song but remixed ofcourse.

NA- That sounds perfect for me. But I think we can take liberty with the film's duration when we have such an amazingly solid starcast, script, locale and even songs. Let's make the movie some four hours long?? Afterall, boring movies like Mohobbatein and Border too were that long and people were entertained.

SN- What about the characters Nikhil Bhai??

NA- See, we'll take one hot and happening pair, say Priyanka and maybe Salman?? Another pair should be very romantic..

SN- John Abraham and Bipasha Basu??

NA- No no, romantic and unlikely. How about John and a very gharelu homely kind of actress..

SN-(Doubtfully) VIdya Balan??

NA- Bingo!! OK, then we should have one middle aged couple. Lets take Juhi Chawla, Yash Chopra sir will be happy. And with her we can take Anil Kapoor. They can be this comfortable predictable NRI couple.

SN- Let's give a break to an actor past his hey days too Nikhil Bhai. Lets try and fit in Govinda in any role if you can..

NA- Suresh you are right. We can have the role of a coolie or maybe a taxi driver?? that sounds like a good idea.. and make him tht. With the typical accent and all. Hmm, we now have the working class puller. If we put in a U.P type couple, crude, vulgur noises et al. How about Isha Koppikar for that?? She was crude enough in Kya Kool Hai Hum right??

SN- Yes boss.. And we'll put in Ayesha Takia, she'll bring in all those FYJC & SYJC students in hoardes.

NA- And we'll put her hero as the most eligible bachelor in Mumbai.. or maybe Delhi.. Hmmm.. and he'll be absolutely vella, with mounds and mounds of money to throw around...

SN- that forms all our couples.. uh.. sir.. umm.. what about the.. you know.. the dates??

NA- Oh they'll give it. We'll float a rumour that Karan Johar is gonna ghost direct the movie... Now thinking logically we'll need good music.. lets use Shankar Ehsaan Loy

SN- Oh that should account for some brilliant music then. Even if the settings of the songs are cliched, the music will bring the visuals alive.
*Pauses*
But sir what if the audience dont sit thru the four hours...

NA- hmm.. I think, that they ll keep waiting for the movie to reach some milestone till the end of the four hours.. so even if they think about leaving, they'll keep hoping that something will turn the tide and make the movie good...

SN- Sir will we make the couples, all of them, meet sometimes or somewhere atleast once??

NA- Hmm.. we'll see.. if all turns well.. maybe Karan can get Kajol or ShahRukh to do a cameo.. hmm maybe Karan can himself do a maeo in the film.. I;ll tell him that that would be my homage to him.. hmm.. free cameo..

And hence an absolutely well publicised, well advertised, well rhymed movie got ruined. The editor, the cinematographer, the actors have all done their two bit in ruining the film. In all, from the entire 3 hours and 45 minutes of the film, only ten minutes were worth remembering.. Those were the times when Vidya Balan was grappling with her memories and Govinda was grappling with his vocab. The only time I really laughed was when in the end Shannon Esra, the pardesi mem goes up to her rejected in-laws and spurts hindi expletives. Priyanka just looks good, goes on random ego trips and screams. Salman has a new wig (??) or hair transplant. Sorry, that was the only thing noticeable about him. Sohail Khan and Isha Koppikar were downright vulgar. Although Vidya Balan and John Abraham has scenes showing more physical proximity, it was done aesthetically. The absolutely lovely Ayesha Takia had no scope for performing, and Akhshaye Khanna blew his top on the role. The new face, Anjana, shows a lot of skin but also a lot of promise. Juhi was just satisfactory. Nothing spectacular.

Despite the fact that it was a special premier show, people were audibly pissed, bored and absolutely disgusted with the movie. Meeting the stars too did not compensate enough for the absolute torture this film is.

The only ones who tried to not be bad were Vidya Balan and Govinda.
Imagine if I'm saying that Govinda is good in the film.. what happened to the rest!!!!

Lesson Learnt: Never ever try to copy American hit films thinking that the Hindi counterpart will be even better. Even a mix of Love, Actually's stories and Crash's technique cannot CANNOT turn out good..

Word of Advice: PLEASE please dont see this movie. Even if you are paid to see it dont. Even if anything.. Dont.