"hey mom..........do you think you could be the monster in our power ranger game."
That was the request from my six year old son at his impromptu birthday celebrations yesterday. The theme was Power Ranger Party. Three eager faces peered at me, and I had to relent. The next half hour went away with me screaming and walking tall, and being beseiged by laser guns, power rays, socks, kickboxes, gamma rays and even a sneezing spell.
By the end of it, the power ranger monster morphed back into a 33 year old mommy. And yet, at the end of the evening I heard my son confide in a little pal, "My mum is mean, isn't she?"
Well, exactly my point. The poor power ranger monster aka mommy seldom gets a chance to redeem herself. Kids think she is too strict, dad thinks she is too lenient. Teachers think she is too pushy and other moms think she is competition.
Next on my agenda is the yearly scary event. The annual formal b'day party of the six year old. Meticulously organised, planned, and put down to the last detail. Then there are the little guests. Some who are travelling, others who have fallen ill, and the rest who are coming. With each 'no', my heart sinks a bit......what will happen to all that cake and return gifts....with each 'yes', i worry, 'will they kill each other by the end?'
Well, thankfully by tomorrow evening we will be over the hill, unwrapping gifts, oohing and aahing and feeling happy and satisfied. I will get a sloppy wet kiss for my troubles and will be dead to the world by eleven, aided by the manna for adults-alchohol.
In the meantime, the little tyrant who rules out lives will be taking a decision on what we have to do next year. I just hope we dont have a Harry Potter theme party,cos well, I'm just a muggle!
Friday, July 13, 2007
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
On the beach!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The resort I stayed at a recent holiday in Kuala Lumpur seemed to be very popular with visitors from the Middle East. We found scores of families from various areas there, staying at the hotel. Apart from us Indian's of course :) !
The Sunway resort where we stayed had a man-made beach and lagoon. It had a lot of adventure theme parks and a water park with fun stuff to do for everyone. The day we spent there was memorable with the many rides and adventures we had. However, what struck me and cut me deep was a young woman in a Burqua on the beach.
By her body language I could make out she was quite young, and she was accompanied by her husband and two young chilren. The latter three were appropriately dressed in shorts and swimming gear for a day at the water park. The former, however, was covered from top to toe in a burqua and a veil for her face. The only visible area at the eyes was covered by sunglasses. In short, apart from her hands, there was no visible skin anywhere. This lady stood on that beach watching her family frolic in the water for a good three to four hours, at least till the time we were there.
Watching her in the searing heat, surrounded by other women of all shapes and sizes, in varying swimming gear, from bikinis, one peieces, tankinis, cycling shorts to burkinis even, felt odd. In that heat, her ensemble choice did seem out of place. Watching her somewhere sent a shiver down my spine, and perhaps left me thankful of being born in a more liberal country in more liberal times.
While leaving I wondered if she had ever felt tempted to throw off the restrictions and jump into the water. Sometimes the smallest things in life you take for granted make you pause and ponder.
The Sunway resort where we stayed had a man-made beach and lagoon. It had a lot of adventure theme parks and a water park with fun stuff to do for everyone. The day we spent there was memorable with the many rides and adventures we had. However, what struck me and cut me deep was a young woman in a Burqua on the beach.
By her body language I could make out she was quite young, and she was accompanied by her husband and two young chilren. The latter three were appropriately dressed in shorts and swimming gear for a day at the water park. The former, however, was covered from top to toe in a burqua and a veil for her face. The only visible area at the eyes was covered by sunglasses. In short, apart from her hands, there was no visible skin anywhere. This lady stood on that beach watching her family frolic in the water for a good three to four hours, at least till the time we were there.
Watching her in the searing heat, surrounded by other women of all shapes and sizes, in varying swimming gear, from bikinis, one peieces, tankinis, cycling shorts to burkinis even, felt odd. In that heat, her ensemble choice did seem out of place. Watching her somewhere sent a shiver down my spine, and perhaps left me thankful of being born in a more liberal country in more liberal times.
While leaving I wondered if she had ever felt tempted to throw off the restrictions and jump into the water. Sometimes the smallest things in life you take for granted make you pause and ponder.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Why Johnny Depp Rules
It’s a simple answer really………….
Because he is SEXY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
He looks delicious as any character. Yes, even as the neurotic bugger in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, or in the most defining role, where I fell in love with him, Edward Scissor hands!
I have a feeling it’s because it’s his uniquely androgynous appeal. The man knows how to be both a man’s man and a woman’s man. He has hips that swing, eyebrows that quirk, and eyes that dance. And yes in the latest role that he has immortalized in the three part series, The Pirates of the Caribbean he takes Captain Jack Sparrow to new heights and new depths with élan.
But for me what really works with him is the sensitivity of his face. It acts like a mirror, showing you at various times, not Johnny himself, but the character, from depraved, lustful to damned and hesitant, his face chooses to mould itself to whoever he is. Not to mention that his agility and precision with sword is well………………intensely appealing. The best part is, as I recently discovered in the ‘World’s End’ sequel, even older women like him. His latest fan is my mother who raves about him and assures me he is the cutest guy she has ever met. My six year old son , calls him a ‘Mast Banda’.
As for me……………………well….like they say in the movies………….”I will always remember the day, I met Capt. Jack Sparrow!”
Because he is SEXY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
He looks delicious as any character. Yes, even as the neurotic bugger in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, or in the most defining role, where I fell in love with him, Edward Scissor hands!
I have a feeling it’s because it’s his uniquely androgynous appeal. The man knows how to be both a man’s man and a woman’s man. He has hips that swing, eyebrows that quirk, and eyes that dance. And yes in the latest role that he has immortalized in the three part series, The Pirates of the Caribbean he takes Captain Jack Sparrow to new heights and new depths with élan.
But for me what really works with him is the sensitivity of his face. It acts like a mirror, showing you at various times, not Johnny himself, but the character, from depraved, lustful to damned and hesitant, his face chooses to mould itself to whoever he is. Not to mention that his agility and precision with sword is well………………intensely appealing. The best part is, as I recently discovered in the ‘World’s End’ sequel, even older women like him. His latest fan is my mother who raves about him and assures me he is the cutest guy she has ever met. My six year old son , calls him a ‘Mast Banda’.
As for me……………………well….like they say in the movies………….”I will always remember the day, I met Capt. Jack Sparrow!”
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Salad Days...........yummy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It all started with the office party which is of course still to take place in two days. I had promised the 'girls' a long awaited treat of biryanis and bacardi at my place...which slowly evolved into a well............salads, pastas etc lunch. Perfectionist that I am, i whizzed off to defence colony market today to check out some exotic pasta sauces and salad leaves for the day. I usually am pretty happy to open a can of ready made pasta sauce but this time I wanted to simmer the sauces at home, my way. Its not everyday that my work colleagues see this domesticated side of me.
I am glad I went because it helped me pick up everything for my favourite salad in the world. To begin with anyone who hasn't shopped at the defence colony market for food has missed an experience. I will never forget how many years ago a snooty aunt made an uncle drive all the way from Civil Lines to get fish from Defence Colony market. After today I think she was on to something there.
I stumbled on some fabulous rocket leaves, delicately placed in an AC shop and that spurred me to hope that I could make my favourtie salad at home. I do not have the energy to go to INA market, an experience I am saving for those happy days when I will potter around in the kitchen after retirement. My favourite salad in all the world is the Insalata Felix, served at restaurant I promote...........while the salad has actually been named after a pet, it offers the delectable combination of goat cheese, orange, pine nuts and rocket leaves,with a dressing which I will now keep secret!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Anyway after some sweet directions from the vegetable vendors I found imported goat cheese.manna from heaven..........and the shop keeper kindly cut me a wedge from a very formidable looking chunk.
Back home, my maids looked at me aghast as I mixed my favourite salad, dunked it in the fridge to cool and sat and stuffed green leaves unshamedly into my mouth once it was done. Total cost??????????Well rocket costs Rs. 200 a kilo, my bunch came for thirty bucks, cheese that went in would be about 50, half an orange, i'd venture ten bucks, pine nuts worth another twenty bucks, so say about 120 bucks for a salad................cheaper than what you would pay outside and absolutely fresh and delicious..................
As I have happily told the vegetable vendor who gave me his card and promised home delivery to my office (luckily in defence colony too).........he had made a permanent new customer...........
And if the next blog is on shitake mushrooms or perfectly plump asparagus right in the middle of the city...................you will have to pardon me!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I am glad I went because it helped me pick up everything for my favourite salad in the world. To begin with anyone who hasn't shopped at the defence colony market for food has missed an experience. I will never forget how many years ago a snooty aunt made an uncle drive all the way from Civil Lines to get fish from Defence Colony market. After today I think she was on to something there.
I stumbled on some fabulous rocket leaves, delicately placed in an AC shop and that spurred me to hope that I could make my favourtie salad at home. I do not have the energy to go to INA market, an experience I am saving for those happy days when I will potter around in the kitchen after retirement. My favourite salad in all the world is the Insalata Felix, served at restaurant I promote...........while the salad has actually been named after a pet, it offers the delectable combination of goat cheese, orange, pine nuts and rocket leaves,with a dressing which I will now keep secret!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Anyway after some sweet directions from the vegetable vendors I found imported goat cheese.manna from heaven..........and the shop keeper kindly cut me a wedge from a very formidable looking chunk.
Back home, my maids looked at me aghast as I mixed my favourite salad, dunked it in the fridge to cool and sat and stuffed green leaves unshamedly into my mouth once it was done. Total cost??????????Well rocket costs Rs. 200 a kilo, my bunch came for thirty bucks, cheese that went in would be about 50, half an orange, i'd venture ten bucks, pine nuts worth another twenty bucks, so say about 120 bucks for a salad................cheaper than what you would pay outside and absolutely fresh and delicious..................
As I have happily told the vegetable vendor who gave me his card and promised home delivery to my office (luckily in defence colony too).........he had made a permanent new customer...........
And if the next blog is on shitake mushrooms or perfectly plump asparagus right in the middle of the city...................you will have to pardon me!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Excuse Us ................We are Indian!
It must have been more than two decades back............yes, exactly...........give or take a year or two. A magical summer where we went to Texas, and like sensible little Indians made a trip to the Nasa Space Centre, Houston. The turning point in my life should have been the whole new world of the stars opening out in front of my eyes in the first world American wizardry.
No....for me it was the moment we chose to walk across the sprawling grounds of NASA, not on the designated pathways like good tourists but on the deliciously green grass. As the jaunty third officer and radio officer of our ship put it, our small little rebellion was pardonable because, 'excuse us ...................we are Indian."
While in many ways that rambunctious duo has formed my opinion of men, at an impressionable age......I love bad boys still!...............It also goes on to prove our own perception of ourselves. Mine has changed with time. I have ceased to be apologetic about a lot of things that irk a foreign eye. I dont care to explain to them about our social and class systems any more, I simply refuse to put up with their rants and raves about our lack of infrastructure, (and still they come here...need I say more?), and I cannot abide being asked questions that begin with, "Do all Indians...............?". There is actually no such thing as all Indians. In fact Indians would scratch their head in puzzzlement if you asked them to explain fellow countrypeople to a foreigner. How can you expect to classify and categorize a trillion people in one sentence like a genus of butterflies, moths or sundry insects? Its myopic.
In this respect I think my son's generation has it better. They seem more able to express themselves and they have a confidence we lacked. Our parents of course lived in terror of upsetting status quo and apple carts, the fact that thye had been born slaves and were freed while they walked or crawled as infants still lies somewhere under their skin. Perhaps that is why their generation slaved and scrimped and survived in foriegn lands struggling for citizenships, green cards, work permits, mortgages and worked their way up the ladder.
In the past few months I have met two young women, who went to western countries to seek their fortune and want to come back. They admit to noticing an invisible glass ceiling that has always existed but never been acknowledged, and now they want to come back, to an environment where they get to be at peak, and get to have a go at trying to reach higher. Something they cannot do in the host country they stay in.
Maybe its time we started accepting ourselves, loving ourselves a little more, and giving in to our baser impulses. No on caught us when we walked on that grass that afternoon. It saved us an additional twenty minutes in the sun and well..................it felt Indian!
No....for me it was the moment we chose to walk across the sprawling grounds of NASA, not on the designated pathways like good tourists but on the deliciously green grass. As the jaunty third officer and radio officer of our ship put it, our small little rebellion was pardonable because, 'excuse us ...................we are Indian."
While in many ways that rambunctious duo has formed my opinion of men, at an impressionable age......I love bad boys still!...............It also goes on to prove our own perception of ourselves. Mine has changed with time. I have ceased to be apologetic about a lot of things that irk a foreign eye. I dont care to explain to them about our social and class systems any more, I simply refuse to put up with their rants and raves about our lack of infrastructure, (and still they come here...need I say more?), and I cannot abide being asked questions that begin with, "Do all Indians...............?". There is actually no such thing as all Indians. In fact Indians would scratch their head in puzzzlement if you asked them to explain fellow countrypeople to a foreigner. How can you expect to classify and categorize a trillion people in one sentence like a genus of butterflies, moths or sundry insects? Its myopic.
In this respect I think my son's generation has it better. They seem more able to express themselves and they have a confidence we lacked. Our parents of course lived in terror of upsetting status quo and apple carts, the fact that thye had been born slaves and were freed while they walked or crawled as infants still lies somewhere under their skin. Perhaps that is why their generation slaved and scrimped and survived in foriegn lands struggling for citizenships, green cards, work permits, mortgages and worked their way up the ladder.
In the past few months I have met two young women, who went to western countries to seek their fortune and want to come back. They admit to noticing an invisible glass ceiling that has always existed but never been acknowledged, and now they want to come back, to an environment where they get to be at peak, and get to have a go at trying to reach higher. Something they cannot do in the host country they stay in.
Maybe its time we started accepting ourselves, loving ourselves a little more, and giving in to our baser impulses. No on caught us when we walked on that grass that afternoon. It saved us an additional twenty minutes in the sun and well..................it felt Indian!
Saturday, April 21, 2007
The Relevance of Art
Sometimes I think Marx got it right when he said that all art, should be the perogative not of the artist or the consumer, but of the public. Art cuts across various mediums and creates a platform for thought and debate. Unfortunately, in our country, art has begun to have an elitist connotation. The newspapers today are full of the financial value of a work of art, the pulling power of the artist, or the glitterati who attended them.
Whatever happened to the art?
Where is the future of art in our country going? Will we continue to fete the old masters, or allow the resurging new voices to emerge. I recently went to an art exhibition which had a group of young artists showing their installations and creative expression. The medium for the same traversed various genres, from furniture, to remote controlled mechanical devices to pop art, and digitally reworked expression. Among my favourite pieces was a piece dedicated to the commuters of Mumbai, a swinging pedal device and to the street vendors to display their wares. Another one that captured me in its still calm was a set of six crutches working through a motor on a wooden table.
Atypical, kitschy, crazy, wierd, and even disturbing would be the way I would denote some of the works on display. But then, is that not the true purpose of art? To bring out comment, dissension, praise, passion, awe, fear and even disgust?
Is art not expressed to create reaction, and not always of a financial kind?
The measure of a true work of art lies not in it's financial value, or its beauty, but in it's endurance and relevance which cuts across the modalities of time and space. That is why Van Gogh's vase of flowers, or Ruben's curvaceous angels still elicit a smile.
Closer to home, Indian art has a rich legacy, and if I may venture to add, a rich future if the young artists are allowed the financial and creative freedom to work.
In the end, its more than the celebrities and the money, so lets break the ice and talk about the work itself!
Whatever happened to the art?
Where is the future of art in our country going? Will we continue to fete the old masters, or allow the resurging new voices to emerge. I recently went to an art exhibition which had a group of young artists showing their installations and creative expression. The medium for the same traversed various genres, from furniture, to remote controlled mechanical devices to pop art, and digitally reworked expression. Among my favourite pieces was a piece dedicated to the commuters of Mumbai, a swinging pedal device and to the street vendors to display their wares. Another one that captured me in its still calm was a set of six crutches working through a motor on a wooden table.
Atypical, kitschy, crazy, wierd, and even disturbing would be the way I would denote some of the works on display. But then, is that not the true purpose of art? To bring out comment, dissension, praise, passion, awe, fear and even disgust?
Is art not expressed to create reaction, and not always of a financial kind?
The measure of a true work of art lies not in it's financial value, or its beauty, but in it's endurance and relevance which cuts across the modalities of time and space. That is why Van Gogh's vase of flowers, or Ruben's curvaceous angels still elicit a smile.
Closer to home, Indian art has a rich legacy, and if I may venture to add, a rich future if the young artists are allowed the financial and creative freedom to work.
In the end, its more than the celebrities and the money, so lets break the ice and talk about the work itself!
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Cos.........they are just children!
Yesterday, I went to see a play produced by a dear friend and mentor, created by a theatre group called Pandies. Pandies has been a radical feminist theatre group picking up social issues and creating awareness on the way our idealogical perspectives have created a self-defeating society.
In it's current avatar Pandies has moved beyond the 'three walls' theatre of the auditoriums and worked with street children and children affected by violence and terrorism. Though I have not always whole heartedly agreed with every perspective of the group, having been a member since it's inception, I passionately believe in their passion!
This time, Pandies has been working with an NGO called 'Saksham' which has been consistently working with slum children near the areas adjoining Noida. Nithari has also been one of the areas they have been working in. Till January 2007, Nithari was just another place they worked with children and helped them become more aware of the dichotomies of their lives. Post January 2007, things have changed a quite a bit.
The plays performed includeed two more segments: One a skit of what the children belived actually happened in D5, and believe me when you see another child casually lopping off imaginary limbs from a child co-actor, it scares you more than any newspaper or tv coverage would!
The other a conversation which followed into an interaction with the audience on what the NGO and theatre group have worked to achieve both pre and post Nithari.
The skits covered various issues the children face in their day to day lives: money, education, child labour, bad parenting, cruel intentions, religious bigotry and riots, and even love affairs which go off into tangential directions.
The plays have been scripted, directed and conceptualised by the children. The adults are around just to help them fine tune their ideas. Creative imagination lends itself to a boistrous and ebullient set of performances. There is always closure as everything returns to the natural order in the end. The world is utopian, imagined by children and very far away from the perspective of an adult.
While there was much debate on social issues and the Nithari debate did rage on, what mattered to me more, as an adult, a parent and a closet performer, was the children. Their innocence, their sense of fun, their desire to live in a better world, unlike the one we have given them, their intuitive sense of understanding, took you away from the slum clusters of their life to a wonderful imaginary world created by their expression. As a parent I know how much it takes to get 5o odd children to perform on stage towards a logical conclusion. As a parent I hoped their parents felt pride seeing them take to the stage so naturally. As a parent I wished they could all find their natural birthright: love, respect and nurturing.
In the end, they are just children. Surrounded by violence of the grossest kind, surrounded by poverty, need, apathy and neglect they still find time to be children, and for that one must always salute them!
In it's current avatar Pandies has moved beyond the 'three walls' theatre of the auditoriums and worked with street children and children affected by violence and terrorism. Though I have not always whole heartedly agreed with every perspective of the group, having been a member since it's inception, I passionately believe in their passion!
This time, Pandies has been working with an NGO called 'Saksham' which has been consistently working with slum children near the areas adjoining Noida. Nithari has also been one of the areas they have been working in. Till January 2007, Nithari was just another place they worked with children and helped them become more aware of the dichotomies of their lives. Post January 2007, things have changed a quite a bit.
The plays performed includeed two more segments: One a skit of what the children belived actually happened in D5, and believe me when you see another child casually lopping off imaginary limbs from a child co-actor, it scares you more than any newspaper or tv coverage would!
The other a conversation which followed into an interaction with the audience on what the NGO and theatre group have worked to achieve both pre and post Nithari.
The skits covered various issues the children face in their day to day lives: money, education, child labour, bad parenting, cruel intentions, religious bigotry and riots, and even love affairs which go off into tangential directions.
The plays have been scripted, directed and conceptualised by the children. The adults are around just to help them fine tune their ideas. Creative imagination lends itself to a boistrous and ebullient set of performances. There is always closure as everything returns to the natural order in the end. The world is utopian, imagined by children and very far away from the perspective of an adult.
While there was much debate on social issues and the Nithari debate did rage on, what mattered to me more, as an adult, a parent and a closet performer, was the children. Their innocence, their sense of fun, their desire to live in a better world, unlike the one we have given them, their intuitive sense of understanding, took you away from the slum clusters of their life to a wonderful imaginary world created by their expression. As a parent I know how much it takes to get 5o odd children to perform on stage towards a logical conclusion. As a parent I hoped their parents felt pride seeing them take to the stage so naturally. As a parent I wished they could all find their natural birthright: love, respect and nurturing.
In the end, they are just children. Surrounded by violence of the grossest kind, surrounded by poverty, need, apathy and neglect they still find time to be children, and for that one must always salute them!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)