The curious tragedy of Long sentences.

Many of my teachers at school have been thrilled to point out that I write rather long sentences. I believed them. Especially when they made that grim face and pointed at my sentences with the ball point pen. It was always a moment for me to hear that. I often sat down and read them out loud after the teacher left. I perfectly understood what I was trying to say but apparently they didn't. Well...not so recently my aunt (who happens to be a teacher) mentioned she hates looong sentences, because of her age. When you get to the finishing line you forget what the beginning was. Its better to break them down into shorter ones she said, grimacing over a student's homework.

Hmmm, now I get it. This was proselytizing moment for me. From 5th grade until now I reprimanded myself within for the inability to cut short. Not anymore!

Having said that age is getting to me too. At times when I write those, I tend to forget what I was meaning to say at all! The irony of age.

A Shroud of Sanity.

The Hindutva Talibanism that has taken over the Indian women's life by storm recently advertised their opinion on the new Indian woman and her 'provocative' sense of dressing. Not to mention a recent article by Sagarika Ghose also caused quite a stir amongst many an educated woman across the nation when she wrote about how the youth of today has nothing better to do than imitate characters from the quite well known series "sex and the city". She went on to express her desire to be more like the Nehrus who romanced and wined and dined while being discreet.


Clearly these two instances are nothing if not a critic's delight.The job here is too simple. I already read through many opinions in ink rubbish-ing them both. But at one point it got me thinking.

Firstly on the issue of provocative -ness. If the HT believe that the epitome of Indianness is wearing a saree, then so be it. But have you actually observed it? Most of us in fact die to be in one for its sheer sexiness if it wasn't for the inconvenience of walking in it or the time needed to make it perfect. Yes it wraps you up. But what about the part where it not only accentuates the breasts but literally helps you in expressing your bosom into your neighbour's face? Thank God for the safety pin. Even then. Think about it.


Then comes the midriff. Oh that part which most of our sexy tank tops and bod tubes help us in covering the flab. In case of the saree, the ENTIRE stomach (if I can be explicit) is shown. Only if you stand straight and keep the "pallu" in a particular way can the rest of the world be assured of not going into fainting spells.


At this point I'd like to introduce you to the blouse. Which most of us do wear. High necks are out, though I do think they look good. This means that the blouse exposes the back. That fleshy and I dare say probably one of the sexiest part of the woman's body is out there when she's all wrapped up in a saree. Of course the arms are in full sight but not the legs. But sigh. When you've exposed three fourth of your body through voyeurism-ish, attention grabbing peek-a-boo sense of fashion who cares if you're legs haven't been exposed?


So what exactly about tight jeans or a mini skirt offends these men? If nothing else, it clearly shows that they prefer to be provocated through a bit of this and a bit of that. And since we're on that topic.

Does not it only validate their weakness in the sexual arena? By saying that they are getting provoked does not it mean that they don't have the will power to keep them from hurting another human being? Does not it more so show their indulgence in voyeurism?
And besides if you look up the statistics about the number of women who fell victim to rapes, most of them were literally covered up from head to toe. So are these Hindu Talibaans saying that even a toe can kick them into a fervor of sexual aggression? In which case, whats the point of any of this in the first place?

It just feels like talking to a wall right now. I'd like to be open minded but I just can't. As Sagarika Ghose mentioned quite cleverly, it definitely is a class war expressed through culture. This was bound to happen. It can happen in a society where the rich and the poor co-exist. But having said that, are these goondas against all rich? No. Not really. They are okay with the the traditional rich. But not so okay with those who have the money and flaunt it in ways they don't understand. So perhaps here we have an issue of a class war waging over the lexicon of understanding.


And since we are on the topic of Miss Ghose's superfluos article on how the youth of today (and she points at the Indian youth in particular), try to recreate a sex and the city feel leading a shallow life. worthless even. She urges us, you and me to be more like Sarojini Naidu who although a great fan of Shelley, sported a tongue of talent, speaking three Indian languages. And of course, the Nehruvian days where they so tastefully wined, dined and romanced, all the while being discreet.

In my defence, I would first like to point out the fact that I am Indian. Indian YOUTH. Extremely proud to be one and an ardent SATC fanatic.
so,
A) whats wrong in watching SATC? All the characters in it are independent, strong women. They have a sense of who they are and they like to have sex. Who doesn't?

B) The whole terminology of being "western", "eastern", "south-western" is gone. I'd like to think it was over about ten years ago. I'd like to think we are global. We mingle with different cultures, we take good and bad from all. We co-exist. Big deal. We can fend for ourselves. Thank you.

C) Do you really think that the young Indians of today are that shallow? Because from where I stand, and from what I've seen and sensed, we have been so much more succesful in not just being good at our careers, but also learning ten different languages, being able to travel the world in a jiffy, donate our entire savings to organisations in need, earn some more, read and read and read, learn to dance, take care of our parents, even our grandparents, find true love, vote, stand up for our rights- even if that right has to do with the freedom to do a samantha while sipping off a cosmopolitan, have children, edit a book, publish a book, learn to make tiramisu, prepare an Onam sadhya, read the Gita, do the tango, help our friends, be there for our friends, love all like we've never loved before, climb some peak any peak, adopt a child, recycle, listen to the maid at home spill out her troubles, give out your old clothes, watch porn, write a blog, hug a tree, pray at Mookambi, recite the Lalita Sahsranaaman in 15, write a thesis, repair the pc, fix the bike and so much more all the while....looking your best. Being your best.

Whats wrong with that?

Devasuram

People of the World, If you have the time do take a look at this article.


I don't have much to say about what happened a fortnight ago in the city of Mangalore, India. It has been splashed all across the newspapers. It's been on the news all over, it's been talked about day in and day out since it happened.


Then what happened? This.
Are you done reading?

What do you think?


I've been thinking. If I ever go down to this city or near it I could be easily targeted and beaten up by the honorable Sena. I totally fit into their menu you see.

The hunt will stop. It will take a few more incidents here and there. The media flaring up. The people flaring up. Election times getting close. The Government will be more vigilant. The cops will do their job. Etc etc etc.

All the thoughts that ran across my head when the news spread were simply spoken out loud by the others, on television, the radio, in print and so on.

I remembered stories about lower caste Indian women from the south who loved a drink and would step into the local toddy shops or similar and get smashed.

I remembered Kunti and her penance and meditation, how she 'pleased' the Sun God who 'presented' her with a son. (To be honest I am writing out of what I have read when I was a child and interpreted then. So if you think my facts are wrong which I know aren't then do not let me know. Thank you.)

I also remembered Amba, Ambika, Ambaalika. The sage Vyasa walks in to each of their rooms to sleep with them while their husband waited outside. That is how Pandu and his brothers were born.

There are plenty more.
Back to the story,

Nirmala whoever. She started off on the wrong foot and remains to be so.

"From some sources we heard that there was a live band also and some girls were also participating or whatever it is..." she said.

Dear Ms Nirmala,

I know. I know people like you. You like the sari. You like having your hair long. You like it when girls are shy. You like it when boys are boys. You think being feminist is not cool. You believe that the proper place for a girl is at home. preferably her's. You Don't understand why a girl young and pretty wants to wear a skirt, shave her legs and sit with a boy and chit chat with a mug of beer. You don't right? I mean seriously, aren't they such a bad influence on the rest of the good girls? So when you see a girl walking into a pub you think, " Must be from a loose family. Must be filthy."

This is just a wild guess. After all you look forward to your offsprings if girls to be married off in an honourable way. Don't you?

And thus you declare some random facts or whatever you find inside or outside the pub on the day of the incident and then declare the wounded as the culprits.

Someone once told me that being open minded doesn't only mean that your thoughts are liberal and easy. It also means you nod at the narrow mindedness of the guy opposite you. Live and let live.

Devasuram.

The daughter of the MLA, mentioned that when the two goondas were dragging her and the Muslim boy out of the bus, she begged and pleaded with the conductor of the vehicle and the passengers to help her. Nobody did. This hapenned on February 6th, 2009. 2009.2009.



Who are the Devans here? Who are the Asurans?

They have merged have they?

Home IS where the heart is.........

I know I know I've said it before....I need to blog about serious stuff about dams and poor people and the newly packaged Hindutva Talibanism uprising in India blah blah- yes and I will... let me just get my head straight okay? and then I will enlighten you all with my oh-so-crazy ideas about what could be done. Right. For now we shall once again delight in my Oh- so- delightful life now, shall we?
Am at home now, with my parents, the week starting off with a fever and puke rushing out of my oesophagus every half an hour. But now I am better, my hair looks great (and by great I mean curly long and beeeyoootifulll) but my skin for reasons unknown looks shabby and I am waiting for the glow to set in. You familiar with the glow? You know the one you get when you set foot at home, where you're fed so well and you can sleep all you want and there is always somebody to pick up the clothes you throw on the couch and so hence due to being so well taken care of you feel genuinely loved and happy? yes that glow. But haven't got that yet and I guess its coz of the flu for now.

About boys. Well. Right. Thats a very important topic. And guess what? I am who I am. I am loud when I choose to be. I am demure also only when I choose to be. I love a good joke. I usually like to be the one cracking them. I love NDTV24 X 7, I love the discovery channel. I love not understanding what I want. I am me. I cook and can mother a 100 children. I can be the striking editor of a magazine. I can be the girl who is so lost with a map. I can negate business deals. I can do a whole lot of rubbish at my will. So yes I am who I am. So dear boys. why do you always fall short of my expectations? and no I am not scaling them higher up the more you try.

Okay venting done.

Now for the real stuff. I am home and it feels good. It didn't the first day but now am settling in and getting used to the air. A lot of paper work needs to be done and of course some thesis work needs my attention. But besides that there is plenty of time to write and also I have decided to start my bharatnatyam classes again. I think I'll re learn one or two dances again. Just for fun's sake.

There is plenty of time to unravel here.

What I need to do here:

1. Get more serious.
2. Focus on new projects.
3. Write more and more.
4. Excercise and get my tummy flat again.
5. No drinking alcohol.
6. Try and try to make the best tiramisu even if it means I die trying.
7. get a pair of new spectacles.
8. New Ray bans please.
9. scuba diving if dads lends me the money to do so:).
10. Read and read and read.

Um...thats it by then it will be time for me to get back to my other home.