Kids are what we adults make out of them

This morning when i was at the the pool, i saw this cute, pudgy about-10-year-old boy and his elder sister taking their swimming lessons. They were accompanied by their mother (who was waiting outside the pool). After they got done, the mother went with the daughter to help her change, etc. The boy was also heading to the men's changing room. He stops, calls out to his mom, and just flings the cap at her (which falls on the floor), and doesn't bother to pick it up. Also, i don't think it would have taken even ten seconds to walk up to his mom and give it to her, or probably just give her the cap after changing. I understand that he's a kid. But what really got me thinking is that the mother didn't even bother correcting him. For a second, i thought, maybe i'm overthinking. But I wasn't. After changing, this little arrogant thing came and sat on a chair, in a very "I'm the boss, and all you feeble beings in the pool, I'm watching you swim"-kinda look.

I'm not a mother, and don't know if i ever will be (or want to be) one. But if i were in that situation i would have definitely walked up to my son, and politely asked him to pick up the cap. Even better, I would have asked him to take care of his things. And, something as basic as a swimming cap isn't a lot, for sure.

I truly believe that not always, but very often, our kids are what we adults make out of them.

The Salesman - Subtle, yet Strong

There’s beauty in simplicity and subtlety. And, Iranian cinema has often personified this.

I just watched The Salesman. Yes, it’s the movie that won this year’s Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film, and Best Actor and Screenplay at the Cannes. Written and directed by Asghar Farhadi, The Salesman leaves you thinking. While on one hand it shows the sudden drama that is thrown into the life of a happily married couple -- (super-hot!) Shahab Hosseini and Taraneh Alidoost – on the other, there are some beautiful references and glimpses of the drama in Arthur Miller’s masterpiece, Death of a Salesman. Of course, as soon as you hear ‘The Salesman,’ ‘Death of a Salesman’ has to come to your mind.

The performance of every actor is simply beautiful. Like I said, just so subtle, yet striking. And a very special mention for Farid Sajjadi Hosseini. What a brilliant performance, indeed.

The story is extremely gripping and tight, yet delicate and sensitive. It shows the different faces of humans - love, compassion, anger, and, of course, the inherent ugly side. Needless to say, there isn’t a single moment that you’d want to miss. Was I left asking for more…maybe!

The only few annoying moments in the movie were when the Indian censor board decided to mute and remove the English subtitles of certain bits. Like, why?! Isn’t it a given that an audience that is watching world cinema, such as this, would be mature and open-enough to be able to listen to or read the ‘apparently’ censored words.

Anyway, I’ve got to confess that I haven’t watched Asghar Farhadi’s works before. But thanks to The Salesman, I’m definitely going to be watching a lot of Farhadi in the next few weeks; beginning with A Separation, also an Oscar winner and one of his masterpieces.

So, while I start my Farhadi series, you guys must watch The Salesman…coz let’s be honest, ironically, such brilliant world cinema doesn’t stay for too long in most theaters in India.

His favourite lie

I am a fool…
Oh, yes, I indeed am.
To wear my heart on my sleeves,
Every time, at every Spring’s leaves.


Every time he comes back,
I hope it would be for a long time now.
That he will care, love, want me,
That in his heart, I…me…us, he will allow.


But every time, he comes,
It's just to play his moves.
Like, it is his turn to play the dice,
He is the fire that burns me, and I'm the melted ice.


Why does he do this to me always,
every time he comes…only to go away.
Why does he pull me close, and then push me away?


Why does he say all those nice things?
Why does he give me wings?
Why does he make me fly and take me so high?
Why does he say that he loves me…is that his favourite lie?

What's happening?

This morning, i got into a rick from Lokhandwala Complex, Andheri, and was surprised to see the meter with the new Rs. 15-reading. Damn, i couldn't get my eyes off it, simply coz i was dreading every meter reading drop! Anyway, by the time i reached the Four Bungalows signal -- mind you, it was 1.4kms still --, and the money changed from Rs. 15 to Rs. 16. How on earth is that possible? I asked him the reason, and all he could tell me was that he had got the auto meter thing passed just yesterday, and that he had the required receipt and proof with him. Only if i was not in a rush, i would have gone with him to the RTO guys. Anyway, we proceeded, and that's when i happened to see two cops on a bike, a little after Good Shepherd Church, Four Bungalows. I stopped them, explained everything to them. They checked the auto-waala’s receipt and stamped proof, and told me that everything was fine and genuine, and that I should contact the RTO guys for any further query. What on earth is going on? I am not blaming this particular auto guy…but how did the so-called ‘passing ‘ happen??? And how many of such ‘passed’ auto-waalas are on the streets of BomThis morning, i got into a rick from Lokhandwala Complex, Andheri, and was surprised to see the meter with the new Rs. 15-reading. Damn, i couldn't get my eyes off it, simply coz i was dreading every meter reading drop! Anyway, by the time i reached the Four Bungalows signal -- mind you, it was 1.4kms still --, and the money changed from Rs. 15 to Rs. 16. How on earth is that possible? I asked him the reason, and all he could tell me was that he had got the auto meter thing passed just yesterday, and that he had the required receipt and proof with him. Only if i was not in a rush, i would have gone with him to the RTO guys. Anyway, we proceeded, and that's when i happened to see two cops on a bike, a little after Good Shepherd Church, Four Bungalows. I stopped them, explained everything to them. They checked the auto-waala’s receipt and stamped proof, and told me that everything was fine and genuine, and that I should contact the RTO guys for any further query. What on earth is going on? I am not blaming this particular auto guy…but how did the so-called ‘passing ‘ happen??? And how many of such ‘passed’ auto-waalas are on the streets of Bombay??? Please pass this on…It’s a question, query, complaint, confusion, and above all, a lot or irritation, all wrapped into one.

Drink No. 9

I sit in a bar, in the company of me, myself and I,
As I drink the drink, and it drinks me too...
I reminisce the times that were…the naked truth, just no lie,
The good, the bad, the ugly, and a lot gone by...


As I touch my lips to Drink No. 6 of the night...
I begin to tread the memory lanes of love tales thick and strong,
And of ones that went sour and just so wrong.
There’s no pattern, my thoughts are just going by,
They give me a low, they give me a high...
They give me a low, they give me a high!


There begins my journey with Drink No. 7 of vodka white,
I think of the most 'special one' who made me smile, who made it all so right,
She brought in joy...she brought in light,
But as all things wither, so did we,
And she left, without her memories leaving me...


As I begin Drink No. 8, I see a beautiful stranger,
Pretty in a white satin dress, I can’t get my eyes off her.
With lips so tender and eyes dark and deep,
Her body entices me...shall I go and speak?


And there I go home with her…with her really close to me,
I go home and unwind…pulling her close to my lips and me,
She’s gorgeous...intoxicating...addictive...


The bottle's on my lips, it's time for Drink No. 9...
I dropped the woman, and rather chose the wine.


I need no woman, I need no muse,
I like this solitude, heck cares, call me a recluse!
And, once again, I am back to treading memory lanes, old and new,
Of memories of me, myself, I, us and just YOU!

Define 'faith'...?

Following a slew of religious rituals is something that I’ve always tried to keep away from. Blindly abiding by the traditions and/or following them is something that’s beyond me. And no way am I trying to establish here that I’m a rebel or anything. (And even if once in a while I do anything, it’s simply to keep my mum happy, as she’s a devout follower of my religion.) It’s simply that things that were followed years ago cannot become a way of my life. Of course, never ever have I tried to diss someone’s belief in something, even if I don’t second it. It’s as simple – you do what convinces you, and let me walk the path that looks sane to me.

My father truly respects Sai Baba, and wanted to make a trip to Shirdi since years. I want to confess that when I see Sai Baba’s picture, I do feel that the saint exudes a great level of honesty and modesty (a lot more than the ones who claim to be his reincarnations and have conveniently prefixed a ‘Sai’ to their names, or added a ‘Baba’ after it). The little that I have known about him and the fact that whatever little he received, be it in the form of cash or kind, was always donated to the needy, makes me respect him. So, after years of my father wanting to plan a trip to Shirdi (it was his second trip, of course), four days ago, we finally went there. And this blog entry stems from my experience there.

To begin with, if you’ve never visited Shirdi, then let me tell you that it is as busy a place as Mumbai or any of the other metros of India. It’s got traffic, it has got loads of people, and it has got innumerable hotels. Apart from the hotels, of course, you have the MTDC guest house, and a couple of places that are specially-built for the visitors who’d want to stay at a slightly cheaper accommodation. Great credit to that thought!

Now coming to our experience. As soon as we walked into the main gate, this man handed me a slip that mentioned his shop’s number, address, and details of the things that are available there, such as flowers, cocounts (that’s not a typo; he meant ‘coconut’!). He kept telling us that if we bought stuff from his shop, he’d take care of our footwear. Needless to say, we didn't look well-versed with the working of things, and also the cost of the things available there, which is why, simply for a small garland, a medium-sized packet of Prasad, two little pieces of cloth, and a coconut, he took…correction…fleeced us to a sum of 641 bucks. (The next day when I happened to speak to the MD of Hotel Kala Sai, the place where we were staying, he told us that this entire packet is not priced a rupee more than one hundred bucks.) I do understand that you can’t have a loss-making business even if it involves religion, but selling and rather cheating people to this extent in the name of religion is beyond my understanding.

Now let me share the main darshan experience. Both my parents are senior citizens, and my mother has a knee issue. Wise-enough that we were, we’d carried the doctor’s letter, which clearly states that she suffers from a knee problem. Every senior citizen or handicapped person can be accompanied by a caretaker; so, I was my mother’s ‘caretaker’! Now, while my mother and I were allowed in for the darshan, the security guard refused to allow my father to come with us without a senior citizen pass. Alright, I understand, rules are rules. Bottom line, my father was left behind and he had to figure out a way for himself. Now, after waiting for 20-25 minutes for my father, my mum and I decided to pay our respects to the main statue. I understand things such as worship, belief, love for a religion or a saint, etc., but what I fail to understand is the fact that how can you be so lost in paying your share of respects that you conveniently push someone only so that you get that inch of extra space, or that second of extra time in front of the idol. Also, what’s beyond me is the way in which people just throw themselves on the floor to pay their respects. In a place where people are literally sticking to each other, and are getting pulled and pushed, wouldn’t it make sense to show some kind of sanity? Trust me, on reaching the main place, we weren't there for more than five seconds.

So, after this, we finally come out of the main area, and are still searching my father. (Since mobile phones are not allowed in the main area, calling him on his phone was also not an option). Mum and I finally decided that it made sense to head back to the hotel. So there I went requesting the security guards, etc., that if they happen to see my father, please tell him that we’ve left for the hotel. During which time, my mother waited next to a shop that was selling idols and various items related to Sai Baba. She was super tired and exhausted, and all she did was requested the owner to allow her to sit on the stool that was kept outside the shop. All that the man could do was snub her with a No, and pick up the stool and take it in. This act of meanness reaffirmed my faith in the fact that no amount of religion or devotion can teach you manners or humanity.

Finally my mum and I went to the hotel, and after an hour or so, my father also walked in.

So, while my belief in the power and truth of Sai Baba remains as strong as before, the question that keeps coming to my mind is that is your definition of faith and belief different from mine? If I don’t lay in front of an idol, and rather keep standing in front of it with folded hands and closed eyes, is my prayer reaching my god minutes or hours after yours? And while I stood there in admiration, watching some people who could barely walk, struggle their way to the main area, a part of me thinks, would any god or saint appreciate the fact that you’re killing yourself, and putting yourself in such a setting as against sitting in the peace of your home and chanting a prayer? Is that less heartfelt or genuine? Well, I’m sure the gods would agree with me, but if they don’t, then I’m better off being a fallible human-being.

Lessons learned

I've always been someone who speaks my heart out, and is brutally honest. And while i would call a spade a spade, a part of me would think for a second before i act harsh with someone who perhaps isn't going through a great phase in his or her life. And what makes it even worse is when you hardly know someone and are all ready to form opinions about that person. I often wonder why are we always in a hurry to form opinions about people? It takes a lifetime to understand yourself, so is it really right to be so quick in forming opinions about people you've just met or are getting to know. And even if you do, how far can you go with judging someone.

What often makes matters worse is if you may have been emotional- (or rather foolish-enough) to share an episode of your life that may reveal the sensitive you, and the person uses exactly that against you. Now how insensitive can that be? You confide in someone you hardly know about a recent, not-so-pleasant incident and event of your life, and when things just go a little off, the last thing you expect that person to do is to tell you how disturbed or messed-up you are. Here, by no way am i trying to say that one needs to go all out and offer a shoulder or express pity or sympathy, but at least be sensible enough to not add to things.

I agree i'm someone who is more emotional and sensitive than general measures, but i'm not someone who gets very affected with comments by strangers or people i've hardly known. But, there are a few exceptions, at times! At times, there may be a stranger who you may want to explore and know, but things like this pretty much nip it in the bud. Also, certain incidents do make people vulnerable, perhaps just for the moment...but they do.

And, of course, when that person has zero remorse about his or her words, or the way in which he or she is judging you, it definitely makes sense to not pursue it any further. (Silly you, get the message...he or she pretty much doesn't care!)

Every day is a new experience...it teaches you a lot, and some things do become a lifelong lesson. A recent one has definitely helped me conclude that I'd never ever ever judge someone without knowing his or her complete reality, won't snap at people, and, most importantly, would not be brutally honest about certain realities and truths of my life unless i'm really sure that it won't backfire. A chapter closed, but with lots of lessons learned!

Reading a new chapter (or perhaps a new book!)

How easy or difficult is it to start a new relationship, or to fall in love again (and again and again, as is the case for many of us!)? I'd say, very difficult! So, what makes the journey so difficult for most of us.

To begin with, if it's a very quick move from another relationship, there would be times when you'd keep thinking of him or her even when you're with the new person. My personal experience of rebound phases (yes, i've been at both ends at different points in my life) is that never ever ever ever get into a relationship when your head and heart's with someone else, and also, don't even try and act as that lovely angel who is going to help the guy/girl get over his ex. Love is a realisation, and nothing or no one can make you feel it or become aware of it but you, yourself. Besides, if you are high and heavy on the guilt quotient (like me!), you may just end-up hating yourself for leading someone on. So, this establishes point number one -- your inability to get over that touch, those words, and those 'old' times and moments.

The days, months and years that you invest in a particular relationship can often seem like a waste when you see things crumbling apart. I've had friends, and have personally fallen prey to the fact that one often continues a relationship only and only because they find it too cumbersome to step into a new one. Weird, but true! Just telling your new partner about your likes and dislikes, your weaknesses and strengths, and just about anything and everything all over again can be quite a pain. Who said 'comfort zone' is a term that can only be used in a professional set-up; it's pretty much true even in personal relationships. In spite of knowing that the relationship is as rotten as hell, you continue just cause you're too lazy to initiate a new one. Perhaps getting too uncomfortable is comforting at such times.

The third and suckiest is the "what will people say" reason. You often find people, especially girls, who find it terribly difficult to step out of a relationship and step into a new one just because of the fact that 'all their friends' and the entire world already knows about their ex, and thus, it's rather embarrassing to get into a new one. I think, there's no sillier way of killing yourself than believing in this. At the risk of sounding a complete feminist, i want to say that somewhere the society can be blamed for this. A guy who messes around is simply termed as a flirt, while a woman who may have had a few relationships (hate the word 'affair'...feels like an illegal, illicit act or something) is so easily called a slut. Slut or no slut, my chicklets, the world's not going to be at your side in your time of need, but perhaps the one you're letting go of could be.

Of course, another extremely common reason is that you may just be so hurt or abused in your previous relationship that it may be impossible for you to trust anyone else. This is something that most of us battle with. To be honest, i don't think there's any answer to this feeling. Just take your chances, and watch every step. But, alas, you can do this only if you're the type who loves with as much the mind as the heart.

These four reasons are the ones that come to my mind right now. Of course, everyone has their own journey and story to tell. But at the end of the day, to all those who've loved and lost, i can just say one thing -- it's worth living in the hope of finding true love. Someone who would appreciate the real you. Some people get lucky with just the first person itself, while many of us end-up spending a whole lot of time. Also, it's not always about the length of time that you've spent with someone before taking the big leap (marriage, that is!). I've seen long nine-ten years of relationships breaking, and have also seen lovely marriages that have worked in spite of the couple knowing each other for just a few months or so before stepping into the bond.

And it's not about finding the 'perfect' one, but simply about knowing and finding the one who sees perfection in your imperfection...a person who can make the journey of life just so enjoyable, adventurous and beautiful. Like i say, i'll always be positive about finding that man who really appreciates the mushy, moody, emotional and impulsive me. I truly believe in it!

Death - my least favourite topic...

Just got to know of the extremely tragic passing away of child artiste Taruni Sachdev - the little girl who had acted in Paa, and the one who will always be loved for saying the magical words, "I Love you, Rasna." She and her mother passed away a few hours ago in the Nepal plane crash. It feels like some things are just so untimely, and the perishing away of someone this young is just so hard to fathom.

Call me 'weak' or whatever, but dealing with death has always been one of my weakest confrontations. I suck at condoling someone when he or she has lost a near and dear one. Thank the unknown (my term for God) for never ever making me come very close to the death of someone very close to me. (Yes, i am aware of the fact that nothing is 'permanent', but i choose to ignore certain facts) But, at times, even without knowing someone personally, you can't help but mourn the passing away of that person.

Death has been one of my most unloved topics of discussion. There's this strange fear that i associate with it. And though most would say that it's the 'final journey' and things like that, i confess this to the world that this isn't my favourite topic. (Also, i do feel that dying in one's sleep is the worst way to die. While my father feels that it's just so peaceful, etc., i do feel that at times there are so many things that we plan on doing 'the next day' when we wake up. How scary could it be to not have a next day at all.)

In fact, even in the past, there have been times when hearing the news of someone's suicide has sent me into this really sulking phase. Wonder what's my fear...perhaps that of not knowing what happens next...or may be just knowing that things are so unpredictable at times. But this very fear gives me the strength and belief in the fact that one needs to enjoy every moment to the fullest. And also to never fret and feel stupid about loving someone and telling them how special they are for you (and here, i just don't mean the 'special someone', but everyone who matters).

In fact, recently, my friend Rubina told me about her 27-year-old ex-colleague, who passed away after delivering twins. She suffered from a condition called HELLP. While Rubina confessed that she and that girl weren't the best of pals, and had quite a hot and cold situations when they were working together, somewhere Rubina really really wished that things were more cordial between them, and hoped that things were a whole lot different. And that's exactly what i mean when i say that it makes no sense in hating, cursing and bickering over things and people. At the cost of sounding highly preachy (and my friends will endorse the fact that i'm the last person who is preachy, or believes in crazy morales), i so think that, at times, you do become the bigger person when you apologise even when the mistake's not yours. Yes, i do so, simply coz i love and value the person beyond my ego, and i have no qualms in admitting that.

Coming back to the beautiful Taruni, may her soul rest in peace, and yes, seeing you in one of the last scenes in Paa will always leave me misty-eyed. Feels like a beautiful story remained unfinished.

Say "I do" to your tattoo!

The dictionary definition of a tattoo is something close to 'the practice of making a design on the skin by pricking and staining'. Ouch! While these would be the factual and physical details of the process of getting one, for the longest time i've been wondering, what constitutes to an individual's selection of a tattoo design?

I've met a number of people who tell me, "I WANT a tattoo, but just don't know what to get!" This amuses me and often forces me to conclude that for most, tattoos begin and end as simply being a style statement.

For me, my tattoos have to be based on something with which i have an unbelievable emotional connect...something that has been an important and irreplaceable aspect of my life, or something that mirrors me. Think a number of times before being impulsive and getting your lover's name inked. (I still remember the time when an extremely special friend's EX-bf got her first initial permanently inked on his body. Her name begins with an H, so, he got an ant-size 'H' tattoed on his ginormous arm. The minute he'd shown this to my friend, she freaked out, and being the super-practical thing that she is, she immediately asked him as to what he'd do if they broke-up, to which he replied, "I'd add a D to it, so that it reads as HD (Harley Davidson)." Sigh! Of course, within a few months they broke-up; and wonder what's the status of that tattoo today!)

Also, at the risk of sounding too judgmental, i can't help but say that there are quite a few people who are wannabes and are simply enamoured with this so-called 'style' statement. There's nothing wrong in sporting a piece of art on your body, but please don't simply be a canvas that's carrying a beautiful painting without knowing its significance. So, while I totally advocate and endorse impulsiveness, in the case of tattoos, NEVER!

Getting a tattoo is a life-long commitment. So, think a hundred times before getting married, but a million times before getting yourself inked. Of course, there are laser surgeries that help you get rid of it, but, i guess, that's even more painful and a lot more expensive than the process of getting one. (Unless you're Angelina Jolie, of course!)

However, if you've just been lucky-enough to find someone (a friend, lover, whoever) who deserves that kind of place and stamp on your body, just go ahead and immortalise your love for that person. Something like that could be as beautiful and special as a poet dedicating a song to someone, or a painter eternalising someone on his canvas. I'd say, such is the power of a tattoo!

One of the most beautiful tattoos that i've ever seen is that of a lady having her son's date of birth inked on her body. Now that is truly beautiful. So, while i'm oh-so-in-love with my two tattoos and totally committed to them (whoever said i'm afraid of commitments!), i must admit, the aspect of getting a third one -- that of my child's date of birth -- seems crazily enticing. Of course, the big issue right now is that there's no baby in being...so, this tattoo will have to wait!