rab ne bana di tragedy!

Consolation?- Shah Rukh Khan actually acts. He overdoes it, but not for a single second in his film is he glamorous. But that’s the good part. Here is the weird part. A woman lives with a man, and can’t recognize him when he shaves off his mustache. I mean, really.

To be fair the film has its interesting points. Unlike the usual Yash Raj film on Punjabi romance, it isn’t fixated on endless fields of yellow, or the usual large joint family. Nor is Amritsar shown as this beautiful lovely place. Yes, it’s lovely, but it has its narrow streets and the occasional pile of cowdung. The heroine at most points doesn’t wear anything too filmi or flashy, she usually wears these lovely chikan kurtis and chappals. Except when she’s in a dance studio. Man, then she transforms into spandex-clad-hottie. And I mean spandex like the kinds that probably gets stuck between your ass cheeks.

The story goes something like this. Girl’s father has heart attack because girl’s fiance dies. Girl’s father makes Loser Type Man (LTM) marry an alarmingly young nubile Girl. There’s no coercion involved. Just emotional blackmail. (Which is like way better than holding the Girl at gunpoint no?). Well Girl is nice to LTM but tell him she can’t love him. In a moment of madness LTM undergoes a make-over and joins the Girl at dance studio. Girl sorta falls in love with the Made-Over Man (MOM). The Girl has to choose between LTM and MOM. Of course LTM and MOM are the same guy, and in all his chauvinistic fervor he decides that she must pick the boring version over the exciting version, otherwise it just isn’t love. The bit that just makes you go mad with worry for the girl’s eyesight is the fact that despite standing 10 inches away from MOM and LTM she can’t make out that they’re the same man.

The guy who should have had a far meatier part is Vinay Pathak. On an average, he is wasted in mainstream Bollywood cinema, because he tends to play a flunkey. On his own, he shines in films. (Watch Dasvidaniya for seeing him shine for instance). But he’s so brilliant, and provides a lot of comic relief to an otherwise very twisted film.

Oh, and I don’t know what’s happening to Bollywood, but sometimes women are actually portrayed nicely. Like the Girl who rides the bike in a very killer chase sequence. Of course, the flip side is that she sits at home doing nothing, and her role can be summed up as - Lose Boyfriend, Lose Father, Marry, Cook, Dance, Cook, Dance, Cry. But the saving grace is that she’s not the overly-domesticated type. Which is sort of nice.

The film isn’t all bad. Some bits are funny. Some are cute. But mostly the fundamental premise is so perplexing that you spend an inordinate amount of time wondering how even on a film set, such lapse of logic is possible. The self-referencing in Yash Raj films is a bit much though. I mean, once in a while it’s funny. But a constant referral makes the film sound like one of those young testosterone filled boys in Delhi who get caught speeding. They storm out of the car and ask you “Do you know who my father/ uncle/ other random male relative is?”. And that’s what the film does.

I wouldn’t say the film sucked. But it came real close

Morning

Her thoughts broke with the sudden jolt of the cab. Once again she had lost track of time and distance in the various alleys and the by lanes that the cab driver maneuvered through to reach her office.Once again, she cursed herself for reaching so early.It was a routine she detested.

The alarm had rung sharp at seven that morning too.She snubbed it, impatiently, like one would do to an idiot who butted in just during the most interesting part of the conversation amongst friends.But the snub was always accompanied by guilt , and she peeked through her quilt, lazily looking at her cell phone from a distance.It appeared almost mocking at her.She then stretched her arms, carefully avoiding toppling the heap of books and work and an occasional empty water bottle that had made its way on to the bed.She buried her face into the other pillow she always snuggled to while sleeping.The sinking feeling came back again.She thought of the minutes ticking away .She willed herself to not leave the bed, for five minutes more.She never could.She dragged herself to the dressing table, inspecting her hair and face.Both looked the same.She always wondered if sleep really did work the wonders it was credited with.Today would be a mad day again.She shuddered at the idea of straining her eyes on her laptop till 12 midnight. She sat on the bed, thinking for one more time-"I wish i would wake up glad,I wish i would wake up thinking about somebody and not an unsent mail in the mailbox..I wish my mornings were not so miserable each day of the week".The second alarm broke her reverie."shucks..its 7:30 already..it will be one hour in the traffic if i don't rush".She got up with a start and hurried towards the balcony which resembled a storeroom now.She reminded herself to ask the maid to clean it up on the weekend.Clothes from the previous day hung there limp.She picked up the towel and noticed a strain of pink over the cream colored trousers she had worn the other day.She added one more thing to the list of things she always forgot to tell her maid-Wash colored clothes separately.She entered the bath and put on the geyser.It was a small one and did not need to be switched on before long.She was about to turn on the knob of the shower when she remembered she had forgotten to brush her teeth.And as always,she struggled with making a choice between getting done with the shower and then brushing her teeth or brush and then head for the shower.She found it amusing how she repeated this everyday of the week unfailingly.There were days when she would totally forget to brush her teeth and remember just when she was heading out of the door.That day,she decided in favor of the shower first.The taps needed plumbing.The water from the shower was a meek drizzle.It made her sleepy waiting for it to soak her in.But she always preferred it to filling the bucket and pouring water over herself.The latter she thought needed too much effort.

She switched off the fan as she entered her room to get dressed.She opened the Almira to decide on what to wear.Heaps and heaps of clothes-of late, mostly trousers and shirts,an occasional skirt,a couple of blazers,a few dresses, and the rest of them were old clothes she now wore at home or night dresses she loved shopping for but was seldom motivated to wear. It was so much more easier slipping into a pair of old pyjamas and a faded t-shirt than removing the tags from a brand new knee length t-shirt she had picked up on one of her trips.Till they were new, they always made her feel she was dressed up to go to sleep-an idea she found difficult to relate to.

She did not like the creases on the shirts that the "istriwalla" had left behind in the form of folds.She picked up a white shirt with grey stripes and switched on the iron to erase the creases.She lifted her gaze away from her hair as she combed through them to look at her watch.She had forgotten that she had not yet strapped it to her wrist.She picked up her cell to check the time.It was ten minutes past 8.The taxi wallah who dropped her to her office would be jittery.She knew he would flood her with a flurry of remarks the moment she entered the cab while she desperately tried blocking him out behind the Economic Times she tried reading on her way to office but found so unbelievably boring that ended up fiddling with her phone if there was anytime left after the call with her mother.

As she strapped her sandals to her feet, rushing to switch off the lights her roommate always left on and remembering to pick up her watch just before she locked the door,she felt a sense of unease.A discomfort at not knowing how she had just started with a seemingly perfect morning and yet ended up feeling lost.As always,she pushed the thought to the heap which was growing larger by the day.As the cab started, she looked outside the window and told herself once again-"It is a perfectly normal day, and a perfectly normal life.I have nothing to complain about.".She hung on to that thought desperately till it gave way to another-"May be i don't want 'normal'."She always laughed at these contradictions within.Today was no different.

Traveling these days..

I totally didnt know how much of a hassle it is to travel these days.

During the obscenely long day it took me to fly from Bermuda to London ,I had to take off my shoes and belt 4 different times...!!

Here are some observations:

ALWAYS wear socks that don't have thread-barren ends and a hole where your baby toe sticks out.

Which begs the question... Why do we need to take off our shoes? All I can say is I'm thankful Richard Reid(also known as Abdul Raheem and often referred to in the media as the shoe bomber..) didn't try to light his underwear on fire instead. Idiot.

What did they think my colleague was going to do with the half-squozen tube of moisturizer she was carrying...they took away from her - run up into the cockpit and squirt it in the pilot's eyes? Maybe they were worried she would whiten somebody against their will.

The best value in beverage choice on an airplane is a can of Mr and Mrs T Bloody Mary Mix because they will give you the whole can as opposed to a portion-sized cup of soda. Probably because you'll be the only one on the plane who thinks that stuff tastes good.

Also on one of the flights,the attendants were selling mice-sized bags of sundries for $6..!!

Dont even have me start on airhostesses..specially the ones on this hyped for nothing Brit flight to London...at which point, did the air hostess become someone to appeal to for a glass of water?So in the event of desperately needing water, you have to resort to practically tripping the hostess when she passes you by to get her attention. Even then, it is around 7/10 times that you actually get the water you ask for.

Another most annoying thing is meals. I don't know about you but I find it difficult to fall asleep on flights. After a while, I manage to finally doze off after finding a reasonably comfortable space of 1 foot to sleep in - and I get a hostess prodding me awake - for what? to give me a face towel, or give me a glass of water! (How about giving that glass of water when I asked for it in the first place??) This recent flight, there was a lady sitting across the aisle from me and she was happily sleeping away - when the hostess came about with wet towels, continued to prod her awake till she accepted one. Then the same woman fell asleep again to be awoken to be presented a packet of nuts. Its absolutely ludicrous! Where is the sense in these employees? I spent a good 9 hours without being able to sleep and finally dozed off to be awoken by the hostess asking if she could clear my plate. Obviously if Im asleep and the plate is empty - there is nothing else to do but clear it! Unless I wanted to take home the horrendous souvenir for my maid as how NOT to cook a meal!

It can sometime be fun..for instance the part where the loudly snoring woman in the seat behind me had to go puke in the bathroom because the little propeller plane that goes between Guernsey and London was bouncing up and down the whole way down there.

I have been traveling like crazy ..and boarding a flight again tonight.. I tell ya.. the more I travel, the less I like people.

On Dentists..

Why is it that, after spending twenty minutes poking at your gums, shooting pain up and down your body, making you bleed, and making you wish you never got out of bed in the morning, the dentist then decides it’s a good idea to lecture you on how you need to brush and floss better?

For God's sake, you’d think that the bleeding and the pain would send enough of a message…

Tie and Terrorism!

In today’s uncertain political climate, with the threat of terrorism coming in a wide spectrum of designer colors, it is more important than ever to be prepared for any eventuality. That’s why top experts like myself recommend never leaving your home without the safety and security of a properly worn necktie.

Threat Level: Tacky
Although not widely known outside anti-terrorism-expert circles, the basic department store necktie is one of the best methods for combating terror and keeping the homeland in a most tranquil state of security.

My research, based on a careful and exhaustive review of action movies I’ve seen over the last many years, shows that with courage, determination, and a convenient backstory of elite military training, even the most mundane looking individual can single-handedly save the world from the clutches of villainy.

So here is a list of ways that you can use your very own necktie to thwart the minions of terror:

As a Headband
Transitioning your neck-tie to headband position is the first step in any terror-stopping plan of action. It is the time-honored and chivalrous way to inform terrorists in the area that you don’t intend to calmly sit back and be savaged by their insidious box knives and nail clippers, but are quite willing to destroy half a city in order to ensure their destruction.

As a Sling
Since ancient times, the sling has been the preferred weapon for bringing down overpowering insurgent foes. To activate the latent tactical properties of your tie, follow the following instructions:

Find a stone or other small, dense object and place it in the center of your tie while holding both ends with the other hand.
Whip your stone/tie combination in circles above your head.
Once you are dizzy and out of breath, release one end of the tie and watch your flying stone incapacitate the enemies of freedom, or possibly the windows of freedom, depending upon you level of hand-eye-wrist-elbow coordination.
This technique is an invaluable way to subdue any forces of terror you may encounter at CCDs, railway stations, or any other location graced with ready supply of projectiles.

As a Firebomb Fuse
Although primarily known as an insurgent’s weapon, the Molotov Cocktail can prove useful for patriots as well. When fighting homeland-security threats in bars and liquor stores, insert your tie into a full bottle of high-proof alcohol, light your improvised fuse, and throw.

For best results, remove tie before activation.

As a Teardrop Absorber
In the course of your anti-terror heroics, you are bound to meet an overwhelmed and attractive member of the opposite sex, tearfully awaiting rescue by a intrepid insurgent-stopper like yourself. Use your tie to wipe away their tears and win their heart forever. With any luck, the two of you will hit it off and produce the next generation of freedom fighters.

As an Improvised Towel Fight Implement
The nightmare scenario of every counter-terror specialist is to be caught unarmed in a locker room by evil, towel-wielding insurgents. If you find yourself trapped in such a towel-fight of terror, simply remove your tie and snap away at any and all threats to the homeland.

Wetting the business end of your tie with saliva, or even the tears of your new soul-mate, will give best results and allow you to raise some serious Freedom Welts on the insurgently unwashed hides of your adversaries.

As a Hot Pad
As a good patriot, there is no telling when you may be called upon to remove Freedom Baked Potatoes from a hot oven for some important ceremonial function. Don’t let our enemies get the upper hand simply because you lack hot pads for this important task; use your neck-tie to safely transfer the golden tubers of liberty to the plates of waiting dignitaries and ensure freedom for one more day.



As we’ve seen, nothing stands between the threat of imminent terror and our beloved homeland except you and you wardrobe.** So be alert, avoid suspicious establishments like ISI, and whatever you do, dress defensively.

—–

*Ladies, don’t think this fine, military-grade advice applies only to men. This is the 21st century and there is nothing stopping you from acquiring and attiring your very own freedom tie. The author has gone to great pronounal difficulty to render this article both gender and pH neutral, in order to ensure that each and every patriot clearly understands his/her/hiser/heris responsibility for homeland protection.

**”Wardrobe,” in this instance refers to the American usage of the word, meaning, “entire collection of clothing,” not the British usage meaning, “large wooden locker-thing we have to use because we forgot to build closets.”

The only practical defense application for wardrobes of the second sort is to shove them in front of the door, or travel through them to a safer dimension populated by lions, and seriously agitated, PMS-ing magic-chicks.

—–

On T.V and finding a husband!

Watching television depresses me. The TV and everything on it is designed to make you feel really bad about yourself, one way or the other.

Like the ads that show women with lustrous, beautiful hair that bounce more than their boobs do when they walk or run. (Majority hair ads have women playing, jumping, running, why?) Or ads where men are ALWAYS gifting expensive jewellery to their girls and looking happy about it, ads where Papas have loads of time to sit and chill with the family or ads that show how women with pimples/acne don’t get boyfriends. Or stupider TV shows…

I just got up after watching this series on Discovery Travel & Living called, How To Find A Husband.It’s a pre-recorded show about Sally Gray (reporter and TV presenter for last 15 years) who dates 50 men in 10 weeks to find herself a husband. The promo for the show goes, “I am 37 and still single. There is nothing wrong with being single…but now I want a husband…blah…and I don’t want to be stuck wearing this frickin SINGLE ring for the rest of my life.” She wears a silver ring with SINGLE engraved on it. Nice start to finding The One.

I was watching the original 1978 Don when a young Amitabh Bachchan’s collagen injected lips and Zeenat Aman’s pointy bras (why did women in the 70s think that boobs were supposed to be conical?) got to me and I switched channels to end up on Sally’s show where the first thing I heard was, “If you want a husband, don’t sleep with a man on the first date, or the second or the third.” (How about fixing the hymen instead so that each prospective husband-material thinks you’re a virgin, eh?)

Then the various date gurus go on to tell Sally that she should be “demure” with her dates and not be hyperactive. Then she was advised to keep the first date a coffee-date and not a drinking one and if at all there was to be drinking to keep it to two glasses of champagne. “Remember, less is more” advised the guru. Funnily enough the same dating guru who had so far advocated ‘demure’ advised Sally to be sassy and bold with her online profile, even if it meant fabricating stuff.

As an example the dating guru said how her profile said she liked wearing men’s shirts (how chweet no?) and at the same time was open for a threesome. Sally’s response was a shocked, “But that’s not true…” The dating guru responded with a quick, “How do you know?” Basically Sally is an honest person while the dating guru is a fraud. And that’s what finding a husband is all about isn’t it? Making the guy believe he is getting himself a wife while you hide your true self – could be hideous, hyperactive, bold, fun-loving, smart, witty, whatever – behind this mask of what is supposed to be Acceptable Behaviour for Marriageable Girls.

Of course that rule applies to women like Sally – and an increasing number of you girls out there – who are smart, sassy, independent, usually smarter than the dumb jocks around and DON’T want to settle for just anyone with . Strangely there is no Acceptable Behaviour list for what makes a man ‘marriageable’. All it takes for a guy – even if he’s passably ‘good’ – to classify as marriage material is “He should want to marry”.

A guy can drink on the first date because testosterone and caffeine don’t go together, do they? A guy doesn’t have to be ‘demure’ and can laugh loudly and crack the funnies because if a woman does that, frankly the man will be threatened by her wit. A guy can spill his drink, burp, fart and be a clumsy clod and everything is acceptable because of course his mommy cleaned up after him. But a woman doing any of that is not-marriage-material because honey, you are showing that you will not be the Perfect Wife. Because only women want marriage, right? Urghh!

PS: IF there are men out there who don’t believe in a woman following a list of Acceptable Behaviour, don’t frickin fight with me and write in saying I am man-bashing; write in to show you DO exist!

You complete me

"You Complete Me"
And she has never heard
Such a tale as this!
It is either a bald-faced lie,
or a sad truth

A person needs no other person
To make a complete person

Scientifically,
We have our forty-six
Chromosomes on our own,
Thankyouverymuch

Realistically,
A person should be complete on their own
They should know their worth on their own
They should need no one else
To feel their own worth

Don't misunderstand
Love is a lovely thing to feel
And it's out there, and it's real

But no one person
Should need another person
To make a complete person

(Forty-six chromosomes
And self-assured to boot)


note: don't even know what movie it is, but some asshole says "you complete me", and it's always, always, always bothered me

Trendy

Being original is impossible when everything's already been done.
Pointing it out way more than necessary to someone who's completely fucking numb.
They're deaf to your words and blind to the world, but aren't we all.
Stop for a second and look at your own flaws,
like one who mocks trends but follows them like their own personal god.

Talking of how you care as you're forcing the overdose,
like a child who's ripping the head off of its doll
and later cries for something so broken.

I'll need more than superglue here though
Oops, here's another cliche and now it's gone
because I sniffed it all.

I'm shooting up these drugs with one hand
and slitting my wrists with the other one
wondering which will kill me first and how I can tell.
Will anyone even notice when I'm gone? You know I'm just so invisible.
The whole time I'm laughing my ass off,
maybe it was from that bottle of cough medicine I stole earlier. I guess it hasn't worn off.

Everyone's fucking like rockstars, no porn stars
while the girls in stilettos keep running to the bathroom stalls to
throw up their glittering lunch from yesterday and to shoot glittering morphine into their glittering veins. Maybe it's just glittering cocaine.

I think I've covered it all.
Is there anything else that you think is too overdone?

here
glitter, morphine, stars, sun, 11:11, Alice, cocaine, syringes, lines, razorblades, veins, crimson blood, kiss me, fuck me, throw up, fuck up, lol, skinny models, dolls, hell, love, hate, pain, suicide, death, murder, emo, stilettos,

oh and me as well
with my thoughts coming off an assembly line


Fuck it,
let's throw the whole dictionary in there
and set it on fire
like a glittering funeral pyre

Jodha Akbar-A Review

Cutting a long story short, I found Ashutosh Gowariker’s interpretation of a historical love story, Jodhaa Akbar, to be just an average Joe’s flick. Attention worthy only in certain bits and pieces, otherwise a tad too boring and bloody hell too long.

On the positive side; the leading pair has given a decent performance and needless to say, Hrithik Roshan (despite the flaring nostrils) & Aishwarya Rai Bachchan both look nothing less than a priceless work of art.

Now moving on the lighter side; here are some (bizarre but related) thoughts which in many ways helped me stay glued to the cinema seat in the otherwise tiresome film.

*Warning – Spoilers ahead, so stop here if you ain’t the spoiler reading kind.


1. If you have grown up reading Tinkle Comics, then you are bound to relate to many characters in the film – be it name wise (example, Todar Mal & Mullah Do Pyaaza) or look wise (example, a perfectly round bellied dukandar with the trademark miser tattooed on his forehead).

2. For some reason, I kept thinking“Where’s Birbal re?” practically the entire film.

3. Bad Foreplay – the picturization of “In Lamhon Ke Daaman Mein” song. No offence, agreed it was aesthetically beautiful but definitely not practically viable. For example,

- Lover boy standing behind Lover girl, both with their eyes closed and ridiculously horny expressions on their faces for almost 120 seconds.

- Lover boy smelling Lover girl’s skull hair and Lover girl sniffing Lover boy’s chest hair (Now I really don’t understand the pleasure in doing this).

- The done-to-death, “You can fly” Titanic scene – Lover Boy (again) standing behind Love Girl, both with their hands stretched out. I mean seriously, this is just so passé.

(In case you are wondering, yes I too am a romantic at heart but I also believe in action.)

3. To Make A Failing Marriage Work – Couples should devote at least an hour a week on sword-fight sessions.
- Quality time spent together.

- And in case, it’s seriously not working you have a perfect alibi for murder.

4. Ekta Kapoor would be so proud of Maham Anga (evil mother-in-law) and equally disappointed in Mallika Hamida Banu (devi saman mother-in-law).

5. Sajan beemar aur Sajni bhage prabhu ke dwar. Phir ek raat ki baat aur Sajan back in full avatar – So darn typical of Bollywood films, I tell ya.

6. There were moments where I felt the leading pair were about to get jiggy on "Dhoom machale dhoom".

And last but certainly not the least (I am suppose to be working yaar)…..

7. War soldiers – No exaggeration here but seriously, an 11 year old will play Dandiya Raas more rigorously than Mr. Gowariker’s army dudes.

For the peace of my mind!

The only intent of writing this piece is to distract myself from a certain war that is raging within.It is ironic how one keeps feeding on the very things that are leading to a miserable state of mind.A certain level of masochism always prevails,leading to sympathy for self,followed by tears,that in turn followed by self counseling which in the end leads to the psychobabble that i am writing about.

In the past i have obseved that in relation to the self,the things that affect it the most are the ones that are paid attention to.What is most interesting about this is that whether the relation is a positive or a negative one is immaterial.So one might be humiliated to the extreme by a cause and yet devote all the time and mindspace just to that.This in itself is a viscious circle,the output always being loss of self esteem.

Now one might wonder why on earth am i going on and on about this dreary subject.Well,the answer is simple my friend.Analysing a trouble to its shreds might not ward it away,but it definitely makes it look less troublesome!So Socrates and Plato had the most troubled lives,but poor creatures never realised it because they never saw the trouble as a whole.It was always such a microscopic view of the problem that it led to its percieved oversimplification.

Let us take an example:You are pissed about the fact that your relationship/s suck/s.Now if you were to look at this as a whole,it might mean the end of the world or atleast the current peace of mind and the most disastrous thing-self blame.But lets analyse the problem.Relationships are what?The way two people relate to each other.Which in essance means the way one person relates to the other person's likes,dislikes,habits,past,present and more.Which means,it takes two people to relate to each others' very complex set of affairs.This in turn means that even if one person fails to relate to even one very important aspect of another's being,it will lead to issues.Since the probability of this happening is so high,blaming the self or the other is of no consequence since relationships in themselves are a very tricky affair to handle.

There you see,in those few lines,i have absolved the person who screwed up with your happiness(so you might be at peace since as i said before the dedication to a cause leads to more troubles than the cause itself ).I have also absolved you of any guilt that you might feel for the disastrous relationship because in the end it takes two people to make a relationship work(am sure that statement must have been pronounced a million times and so must be true).

Ok.The objective of this disaster has been satisfied..am feeling better.

Clueless...

Seething with insanity,
Unseeing,filled with repulsion.
Lost,groping within.
Dead,in the effort to not feel.

Not that i deserve this
Not that i called for it
Except that the "it"is what i want the most
The "it" is what i fear the most.

The "it" is what i lose my sleep over
The "it" is what i am clueless about!
Clueless!
Pathetically Clueless!!