Does this not enrage you?

How are we so complacent?

As Indians we are either asleep right now or are smoking something so potent we don’t really care. Actually, the fact that we don’t really care isn’t new or untrue. But, here as we park our bums on cushy chairs every day, our country is struggling in every aspect. Does it not enrage you that this is the government we chose? That we are looking like a bunch of monkeys to the world around us? That this is not affecting only our economy but our reputation?

Here are 5 sins of a government that is a tyrant and dense, a combination that caused a World War the last time it happened.  Every Indian, rich, poor, adult, young, urban, rural should feel strongly about these things and decide how much anger should dwell within.

Pride: Air India nose dives.

For the past few years, Air India has been incurring losses despite government bailout. Losses of upto Rs.28,000 crores have been incurred. This is our NATIONAL carrier. I am sure there are tonnes of us that are willing to take it just for the sake of our country but we alone cannot make this work. How can an airline which was once one of the best carriers in the world (top 5 apparently) be sputtering for breath? What is the government doing? Far smaller economies are doing better in this sector than us. Yes, this does affect us on a daily basis. But, does this not enrage you?

Greed: Pocket fires in economic crises

We are one of the nations the world is looking at and we are making a complete fool out of ourselves. A productive economy is teetering and unsteady on its feet. You could get Rs. 54 for one dollar just yesterday. We are a BRIC country – touted as the next decade’s super economies and again we are a mere caricature of good governance. Fiscal deficits are huge and foreign exchange reserves are so low that we can pay for imports only for the next 6 months. Yep, all this planning that our government has done will barely see us through 6 months.  What is the government doing? Does it not cheese you off that every day we are paying a little more for basic comforts because of this? Does this not enrage you?

Wrath: Comic disbelief

Take a look at the first two points. You would think that our government would be quaking in its boots. Turns out, not at all. What do we use the parliament for instead? Oh, for discussion about a cartoon. The said cartoon was published when the person in question (who is being made fun of) was alive and even he knew this was in jest. Some donkeys years later, a stupid, fucked up parliament breaks up a session about this.  Heads roll, resignations are given and apologies are muttered. The sorry state of the country stays the same. The weakened, surppressed classes aren’t better off and Ambedkar is like a demi-god to them. The education, barring this cartoon, will continue to be a business and is possibly one of the most lucrative avenues in the whole country right now. Does this utter waste of our money and time not stun you? Why are you silent? Does this not enrage you?

Sloth: Heading nowhere

This is one of the sins which means that you neglect the duties you are suppose to do. And how well we score on this front. Right now, there was 21 Public Sector companies that are headed by no one. Yup, no one to show them the way. They are all without a full time Chairman and Managing Director. These are the companies that are supposed to balance out the capitalist effects of privatization. Clearly, this is not a talking point. Such a sham this. When a country needs efficient and sharp planning to cut costs and improve welfare, the very bodies that are suppose to being doing this are floating around headless. Does this not bug you? Does this not enrage you?

Gluttony: A law system that has been spat out

A minister who has taken thousands of crores of rupees is let off on bail and so is a young driver who killed a pregnant woman. Our law system is at its best a joke and its worse the place where even terrorists feel safe. The government tells us that we can’t pin down a crime on anyone and even if we do it won’t take much to bail him/her out. We are a country where the price of a crime is paid by the victim with either a life or loss of money while the perpetrator will either walk free or serve a rudimentary sentence.  Who are we, the citizens of India, to turn to? Do we stare from the sidelines and hope the splatters of a crime don’t dirty our clothes or do we pitch in and get embroiled in years of harassment. Why are our choices so limited? We are a democracy. We have rights and not only duties. We pay taxes and we should demand returns. Does this not enrage you?

                                                                                                                                        

Where I review a book. Yay!

Chicken soup is the stuff of legend. In books, the protagonist will usually sip on some wholesome, piping hot soup when they are down with a fever. Drinking a chai by the windowsill when you are in contemplative mode in Indian novels or walking hand in hand into the sunset are probably the clichés next in line. Anyhoo, I am not the one to let a lousy fever rule me. When I get a cold, I will get a ice cream, challenging the cold, even as my throat croaks in protest at this invasion by this chillingly cold enemy.

So, when I was picked to review  “Chicken Soup for the Indian Couples soul’ in my I hale and hearty condition, I really assumed my awesome wit and unexplained love for spouting clichés won over the panel. Of course, the fact that I am newly married therefore a good pick was a rationale that did not pass my head as my ego and my writing skills did a skillful tango in my brain, occupying much space.

‘Chicken Soup for the Indian couples soul’ has a smiling, young couple on the cover. Unlike every ad in the magazines and papers these days, the couple on the cover looks every inch the Indian with a fine crop of black hair and tanned skin.  A good start I think.

The back is a quick summary of the book positioning it as the one thing every person with a romantic streak needs. A few details about the authors/compilers of the book are written here.

The Chicken Soup series is not alien to me. I have read quiet of few of these, the most recent and appropriately being ‘Chicken soup for the Indian Brides Soul’ which was a mix of poignant, cheerful and touching stories. I tell you this so you know where I am coming from when I write this review.

Let me tell you that I also understand a few things about the ‘Chicken Soup’ series – one that there is a limit to the number of words you may dedicate it each story and two that each story has been written out by a different author. As is the case with almost all these editions, Chicken Soup of the Indian couples soul also has sections- 8 in this case.

It starts of with the ‘Made in Heaven’ section with is a collection of stories of how odd couples from around the world, irrespective of the distance, personalities and perspectives get together to make a life. While some get you thinking, some are predictable and some so ruthlessly edited that they leave you a little empty hoping that the author had a little more space to feel. What struck me the most here was that most of the stories are from another time (not the 2000s or 90s) causing a disconnect as I do not identify with these stories. If the book has come out recently, in 2011, the stories should have been more recent so as to strike a chord. The book moves on to stories about overcoming obstacles, about couples marrying after accidents, helping each cope with loss and illness, supporting each other and in mostly cases completing each other. Some of the stories in certain sections seem repetitive and mundane while some have you suitably awed. Sections 5, 6 and 7 seem very similar and can seem depressing. Some of the writing seems superficial, juvenile, lacking details and with an abrupt flow. This can be excused as I assume that not every contributor is a seasoned writer.

Would I recommend it? Yes, if you need to restore your faith in marriage or love because some stories can definitely make you believe in everything including unicorns and fairies.

I wouldn't recommend it to anyone looking for a good read that's written out well.

I compare this book to the ‘Chicken Soup for the Indian Brides soul’ and the former definitely fares better in every department.

Read this one if  you run out of books but I don't suggest you go looking for it.

This review is a part of the http://blog.blogadda.com/2011/05/04/indian-bloggers-book-reviews/target="_blank">Book Reviews Program at  http://www.blogadda.com">BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

Random ramblings of an unstable mind

This post is a list of things I am thinking right now. Do not expect cohesiveness. As if all your thoughts make sense all the time. Or even some of the time. Anyhoo,

1) Oscars: I watched the ceremony and Angelinas leg. The leg has created its own loyal fan base. I distinctly remember the left leg shuffling under the dress, desperately sticking out an ankle in an attempt to get noticed.  Bah! loser. Apparently, Jennifer Lopez's nipple did make an appearance but what chance does a mere tit stand in front of a well-heeled leg?

2) Pinki Virani: I am reading a book called ' Deaf Heaven' by her. This is her foray into the world of fictional writing. So, I am in the middle of this book. Let me tell you, there are a lot of characters here. A lot. All women. In fact, there are more women here than in Hugh Hefner's house. I feel a lot like Super Mario here. Your will be on a conversation, then you jump up and voila! there is another conversation. Just then you will fall down and come back to the original conversation. And in the midst of all this, you are constantly tip toeing around other characters. In short, this book doesnt come recommended.

And why, no really why must I know that Pinki (Yeah, we are on first name basis.Not) and her husband are childless by choice? Her other works talk about women empowerment but here she must explain her reason not to have children? Hmpf.

3) Descendants: Awesome movie, blah, blah, blah. Nope. Didnt think so. Stretching out an emotion is one thing. Taking it to Hawaii and making a movie about it is another thing altogether. Somebody tell me why this was such a great movie.

Thats all I am thinking. That's really less actually. Dont want to crowd my brains with too many thoughts. Space saving. So when some ad man wants to capture my 'mindspace', he has some. I dont want my thoughts and all those brands hanging around together. These brands are real bullies.

Finish.

Letter from an anguished reader

Dear Chetan Bhagat,


A humble request. Consider it a plea or a petition. I can assure you I can get several people to sign off on this.

What you write in the name of books is utter rubbish. Its trashy writing with one dimensional characters. You write a book, a whole 200+ pages, without even a semblance of a story. It appalls me that people read this.

Your characters are idiots, mostly hopelessly in love and stupid while they are at it. The men in your books see themselves as fat, ugly people and the women are giggly caricatures. No one has any brains or spine. All characters talk in loops and sometimes the exact thing (views, dialogues, introspections) is repeated 70 pages later. Each time a person thinks to themselves, it is portrayed like an epiphany. The only consistency is that all male characters make sharp observations about women like they have breasts. A stroke of sheer brilliance. Of course, your very introspective years at the IIM have blessed you with an insider’s view on what happens in all colleges. And this is hashed and rehashed in every book by simply changing the location of the college.

Take Revolution 2020. Why did you write this at all? I could have watched one of those 90’s movies called ‘Aaj ka Aashiq’ or something like that and that would have been more bearable and maybe even more believable. Books inspire movies. We know that, happens all the time. But copying a movie into a book? That has to be a first. When I read the ‘Three mistakes of my life’, I already knew this one had to be my fourth and I didn’t even make the first three.

Why do I read your books you ask? Don’t you watch Star/Zee Movies for the south-Indian movies dubbed in Hindi sometimes? You know, just to see how bad it can get? Yeah, that’s exactly why.

By the way, just watched your ad on Youtube. Hahaha..you..hahah…really…haha…think…*falls off chair*

*Regaining composure* The only reason your books are selling, and I am trying to break this gently to you, is that they are cheap. You and your publisher know that no one, and I emphasize on no one here, is willing to pay more than a rupee per page for your books and that’s on the higher end. Don’t flatter yourself by thinking you are an author. It’s an insult to people who actually are.

Yours sincerely,

Not-so-amused bystander

And again.

I am disgusted.

Actually, I am beyond disgusted. I am ashamed and for the first time in my life, embarrassed to be Indian. The respect for the tricolor I wear so strongly on sleeve, shattered and mauled.

Today, I lost the last bit of respect I had for Times of India (at this point, most of you are wondering why I had any respect for them anyway, another post) and the Indian media.

Yesterday, Mumbai was treated like a whore. She was raped and sodomised badly and the media, shamelessly reported on every bruise. As she lay there splayed, helpless to collect the tattered remains of her decency, the media fed on her pain and devoured her, taking titillating pictures that they wanted to be proud of. And it was all ok, because you know, its Mumbai and shes free for all.

Such a disgusting sham. Such a vulgar display of drama. Such an obscene way to treat such a sensitive story. Can we please show some restraint? Yes, its bad but we don’t need to make a sensational story out of it. For once, lets just think beyond ratings and think of the people. Clearly, somewhere down the line, we have lost the plot in media. We are no longer reporting, we are rumoring.

And I am no authority but I am going to try and put some things into perspective. First, lets stop shouting. Quit the marches, the prayers, the fucking candles. Clearly, its not working. Quit blaming the government. They are a bunch of blood sucking motherfuckers and you know that just as well as I do.
For starters, and I am not being insensitive here, these were smaller blasts, not in significance but in magnitude. Fewer lives were lost and I am thankful for that. Which is not to say that we shall not mourn the losses of those involved. We will. But we wont make a show of it. Please.

This time around, I am seeing a distinct difference in the way this is being viewed. People are angry and outraged, just like everytime but we are not blaming the authorities. Lets face it, what can they do? There are millions of people in just this one city. Despite all the checking and vigilance, slips will happen. I have noticed a distinct difference in everyone’s attitude in the city. People are more accepting of the security checks and we women give up our bags for a quick ruffle to the security lady without a squeak. This is definitely better than grunting in fake displeasure every time you got frisked. We are getting better but we are expecting miracles. Can we not see that the problem is bigger than just blaming someone?

Lets not forget how quickly it was nailed down to a terrorist attack. And of course our ball-less politicians will blame Pakistan. Fucking bollocks! I want to scream stop! Its enough. The blame game isn’t shaking anything. Nothing is moving forward. Stop this garish lip service. We don’t want it. If you think you have found the root of the problem, uproot it. Don’t sit there make treaties and pacts, lets stop behaving like bashful brides. Lets kick things where they hurt and not tip toe around issues.


And lastly, don’t make a fuss about Mumbai’s spirit. Media, if you cant see it, let me spell it out for you. Its not Mumbai’s spirit. It is resignation. It is giving up. If you think you are speaking to the aam junta, speak their language. And right now, none of us give a flying fuck. I think Mumbai bounces back because every Mumbaikar somehow believes that if he/she has to be killed, so be it. Life will simply go on.Every mind in Mumbai knows somewhere deep down that losing their life in a bombing is a distinct possibility and that they will be just another statistic. That is Mumbai’s spirit and the one we should be worried about.

Desi Firangi

For someone who has grown up in an age where everything “American” or “Westernised” was considered cool and imitated blindly, I am facing an intensely entertaining dilemma now. There was a time when swooning over Bollywood heroes was most passé and quickly put you in the “so uncool” category. Women who wore salwars were decidedly not “with it” and Indian women forced their cellulite-laden behinds into tight denims scaring the entire population that may happen to be behind them. Then things started to change. It was cool to listen to Bollywood music again. It became equally cool to bob your head to Munni as it was to Lady Gaga. Kurtas came back with a vengeance and it became the outfit for the serious, meant business women of the corporate world. No longer scoffed at, we embraced the Indian individuality with much love.

I decided it was time that all other American references, especially the ones in media and literature need their Indian counterparts.

See below:

Losing your virginity at the back of an old Chevy truck

Such a common instance in most things involving a young American girl (preferably blonde, blue eyed with legs that go on forever). Usually the protagonist, this girl would hold on to this memory of her first time, in the backseat of a car or truck and would involve the fumbling, pimply boyfriend and a rather disappointing and quick finish.

In India, we do not lose our virginity. Never. Not till we get married anyway. Now that women have started having some pre-marital sex in our books and movies, we usually lose our virginity on trips. Of course, Goa tops the Lusty place 101 list. Or when the parents are out of town. But since we are a horny bunch, we need somewhere you sneak in some naughtiness which we do at cinemas, clubs and sometimes even cyber cafes.

My dog ate my homework

American boys and girls going to school will claim their dog/younger brother/pet anaconda ate their homework. They come up with versions of this but its on the same lines. Nothing spectacular.

The Indian equivalent is far more interesting and much more difficult to believe. Your homework can be stolen by your aunty in the neighbourhood so her son does better at school. Your homework can be doused in colour because it’s Holi. You could not even do it because the maid ran away and you had to do all the housework. There was no electricity. There was too much electricity and your building caught fire. You puked over your homework because you ate street-side food. The street urchin tore out the page and used it to wipe his behind. The beggar was looking to shelter himself from the rain and you offered your book because you are only a human after all.

Prom night

Everyone knows this is the biggest deal for high school American students. Dresses, dates, make up, permissions and boys, there is loads a girl has to do for this one night. The boys, and this is definitely not an American thing, are looking to get laid. While they wont get that lucky, most of the students will have their first dance, the first kiss and a bunch of firsts this night. A whole lot of hoopla surrounds this night – and it becomes almost like the rite of passage to adulthood.

In India, the closest girls and boys will get to dancing before they can legally enter clubs is Garba/ Dandiya. Yes, its not remotely the same thing except both the sexes dancing together. It’s not sexy except the occasional hint of cleavage hastily covered by a dupatta or bare backs. Clearly, this doesn’t cut it. We should have proms.


Cheerleading

Nubile, young women in teeny-weeny skirts prance around flashing their underpants to the entire school. They jump, fly and catch each other and of course are the favourites with the football team boys. They are shallow and usually have miserable grades. If it’s a horror movie, she is definitely the one that gets picked first to be killed. Terribly lucky.

Some people in India knew about cheerleaders only after the IPL. There is no equivalent. We are Indian and we no flash our underwear to anyone.

Locker Room talk

Naked men and women. Each gender wishes they could walk into the others’ locker room and check out the scenery. Men brag about their sex lives and how many times (cant talk about size coz that’s all out there for everyone to see) and women talk about how he was in bed and how many times. There are no secrets and its gossip at its steamiest best (I love puns). Men shamelessly stroll around with not an iota of cloth on them and women potter around equally unabashed.

In India, our gossip is done on the phone or during slumber parties. Most Indian men and women have not seen their friends naked, which is probably a good thing. For the most daring Indian women, a bikini is a huge step causing loads of giggling and checking out of the anatomy and pointing out her flaws by her girlfriends. For men, a Speedo is considered sexy (eww) and the pot-bellied, hairy Indian man walks around with much masculinity in case he is wearing one. None of us are in the nude. Oh wait, except the homeless, but that’s not by choice.