Watchdog Millionaire

I finally managed to watch the much talked about “Slumdog Millionaire”- the movie which has captured the attention of all and sundry. It has received its share of bouquets and brickbats- while it has been critically acclaimed and swept almost all the awards (most notably the Golden Globe) and is a definite contender for the Oscars, it has also invited the wrath of many, especially Indian celebrities who inspire a million Bollywood dreams. The movie rocks, but much of the brouhaha generated can be attributed to the controversies it has stirred- as they say, there is no such thing called bad publicity.

If you notice carefully, the secret to critical acclaim is no longer a secret. There is a definite method to this madness in the name of art- the global audience and the critics love to hate India, they derive a perverse pleasure in India’s squalor, its sleazy underbelly, its slums, corruption and dirty politics, it has a feel-good factor for them and elicits a pseudo superiority complex. Sex sells, but so does the rickshaw pullers of India. And if you are smart enough, you will find a way to make money and fame out of it- “City of Joy” hardly had any element of joy in it, “Shantaram” exploited Mumbai with immense success and the latest kid in the block Aravind Adiga made it big with his Man Booker winning novel, “The White Tiger”- again a dark portrayal of all that is not-so-great about India.

But as an Indian why are we taking it so personally? You can’t accuse Danny Boyle, the director of Slumdog… of misrepresenting India because whatever the movie portrays is a glaringly honest account of what goes on in the slums of Mumbai. Amitabh Bacchhan may rave and rant in his blog but I am sure Danny dearest is not complaining! We know that Mumbai isn’t only about slums or the underworld or corrupt politicians, we know that it’s only one side of the story and there is more to Mumbai than what’s been shown onscreen, so why give in to this provocation and give the movie more than its due share of importance? Talking about it only adds to its glamour. Why can’t we be a secure and mature audience who goes into the theatre, enjoys the 2 hours of cinematic saga and leave it behind without getting all judgmental or without feeling this sudden patriotic surge of a vindicated citizen? Let the world concentrate on “Slumdog” while we focus on “Millionaire”…

50 Questions!

Since my blog is a completely unabashed exercise of self revelation, here is another quick way of redifining myself!! Nothing creative about it, I read it, I liked it, and I stole it... You can steal it too...

1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?
- Arggggh!!! I AM FAT…
2. How much cash do you have on you?
- 28 bucks... spent a lot on PIFF and FOOD
3. What’s a word that rhymes with DOOR?
- CHOR…
4. Favorite planet?
- Earth since it accepted me as I am, no questions asked. But Venus definitely has a certain aspirational value…

5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone?
- Airtel buggers… I don’t pick up their calls

6. What is your favorite ring tone on your phone?
- “The Departed” soundtrack (it makes me look cool- the last thing I am)…

7. What outfit are you wearing?
- Short skirt (I am at home, so perverts stay away)…

8. Do you label yourself?
- My friends call me a cheapo… works for me as I intend to live by it

9. Name the brand of the shoes you’re currently wearing?
- Unbranded chappals (picked up from roadside for 50 bucks)…

10. Bright or Dark Room?
- Depends on my company…

11. What do you think about the person who took this survey before you?
- I have no idea – I stole it from a frustrated MBA guy who writes funny…

12. What does your watch look like?
- Watch? What watch? I have a cell phone to tell time…

13. What were you doing at midnight last night?
- taking a luxurious bath…ahhhhhh
14. What did your last text message you received on your cell say?
- It was from the Airtel buggers offering some useless scheme. Airtel and Placements Committee are the only entities who sms me regularly without fail…

15. Where is your nearest convenience store?
- On campus (Sweety Stores) but it is more an inconvenience store given the obnoxious prices they charge…

16. What's a word that you say a lot?
- Eff Off

17. Who told you he/she loved you last?
- My dad… he says it twice a day! “Children need love, especially when they don’t deserve it”…

18. Last furry thing you touched?
- My red coat…

19. How many drugs have you done in the last three days?
- None… (sigh!!! Am not that cool)

20. How many rolls of film do you need developed?
- None. Please. It’s a digital world and I’m living in it... (how old is this survey!?!)

21. Favorite age you have been so far?
- 21 was good…happy memories, new experiences, first paycheque

22. Your worst enemy?
- My mind. Although Subbu Sir and my running nose are running a close second.

23. What is your current desktop picture?
- Me looking awesome… (a rare pic indeed)

24. What was the last thing you said to someone?
- I don’t think Africans are ugly at all…

25. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly what would it be?
- A million. I can learn flying in my own plane.


26. Do you like someone?
- You betcha. I am a single woman in good condition, looking for a man in any condition…

27. The last song you listened to?
- “Rama Re”… the music in the bus sucks (I am from the Mozart school of thought)

28. What time of day were you born?
- 3:40 pm. That explains why I am sleepy most of the times…

29. What’s your favorite number?
- 2 (only even prime number, the no. of husbands I will have, the no. of children I want to have, the no. of Oscars I am going to win, the no. of near death experiences I will have, the last one actually resulting in death)…

30. Where did you live in 1987?
- Kolkata

31. Are you jealous of anyone?
- Truth be told – yep.

32. Is anyone jealous of you?
- Who who who who??? Yippie!!! I sure hope so, but unlikely!!

33. Where were you when 9/11 happened?
- Sleeping in my bed, worrying about board exams…

34. What do you do when vending machines steal your money?
- Kick the bloody things…

35. Do you consider yourself kind?
- Yes and no…

36. If you had to get a tattoo, where would it be?
- Around my belly button to take away the attention from the excess fat…

37. If you could be fluent in any other language, what would it be?
- French… (I tried and I failed)

38. Would you move for the person you loved?
- Yes…

39. Are you touchy feely?
- What kinda question is this. Depends on the person i'm with. I can’t be touchy feely with my Statistics teacher, but with Rahul Bose, I wouldn’t mind…

40. What’s your life motto?
- Live and let die…

41. Name three things that you have on you at all times?
- Cell phone (even though it’s as fat as I am), wallet, my sarcasm…

42. What’s your favorite town/city?
- Mumbai and its live and let live attitude…

43. What was the last thing you paid for with cash?
- Cold Coffee at E square… yummmmm

44. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper and mailed it?
- A month back… my invoice

45. Can you change the oil on a car?
- Car? What car? I strongly believe in Gandhigiri… I WALK!!

46. Your first love: what is the last thing you heard about him/her?
- You are too good for me (translation: I am too good for u)…

47. How far back do you know about your ancestry?
- About three generations. I have some work to do, don’t I…

48. The last time you dressed fancy, what did you wear and why did you dress fancy?
- Red top, jeans, black shoes (check orkut photos for details)- I looked fat and ugly but it was new year’s eve and people were too busy fretting about their own appearances to really notice…

49. Does anything hurt on your body right now?
- My tummy… I over ate the Pongal Lunch

50. Have you been burned by love?
- Absolutely. But no, I’m not going to spill the details…

PIFF PFAFF!

So 3rd sem results were declared yesterday- no nasty surprises there, one internal backlog that I had earned myself way back in September was the only hitch. Obviously, the rest of the grade sheet wasn’t a pretty picture, but I couldn’t care less as I don’t have to reappear for any of the papers. But now that I am almost through with my MBA, I think I should have studied harder. Well, in the next couple of months of what would hopefully be my last struggle with formal education (ugggh) I intend to make amends, I intend to LEARN- something I haven’t done in the past 20 years. So, I am going to READ, READ and READ!

Anyways the new year has started on a new note- I am trying out new things like the Pune International Film Festival (PIFF). After registering for my student pass for 300 bucks I get to watch unlimited movies- foreign language films from different countries, most of them nominated for some award or the other. Obviously, given my limited general knowledge and even more limited exposure to culture and politics of different countries, I find it extremely hard to follow what’s been portrayed on the silver screen or appreciate the subtle nuances of local customs. As a result, most of the wry humour or poignant tragedy is wasted on me and very often after 90 mins of struggle, I come out of the theatre, sheepishly wondering, “Now exactly what did happen out there?” But nevertheless, I am fascinated with my brush with “intellectualism”. I like this speed-dating with the pot-pouri of culture and the ways of life in different countries, I am surprised that there is a whole new world beyond Bollywood and Hollywood, and I am amazed the emotional appeal that war movies have with critics. Of course, it’s a struggle to keep up that pretence of being dignified, culturally educated, and an intellectual snob. Somehow I don’t fit in with that image of being the arty types, complete with jeans and Fab India kurta and jhola and junk jewelry, but yeah I am trying- partly by not talking (so that I don’t give myself away), partly by hanging around with my “educated” friends and mostly by being all stiff and proper and pretending to flip through the catalogue between movies so as to appear like a veteran PIFFer. However, in spite of all this social struggle I am happy with myself, that I am doing something different (other than my usual routine of eating, sleeping, surfing the net, shopping, gossiping in the cafeteria and fretting about weight), that I am adding some “value” to my personality and that I can proudly talk to people about something “deep” in social get togethers- usually I run out of topics of conversation after 5 mins when I have exhausted expressing my opinion about the Indian cricket team!

2009!!!

It’s January 2009 but as always I am left behind in this race towards… I don’t know! Every time I think about the last few months I can’t help referring to the events as if it “just happened”- like my brother got married this year (which I missed by the way… Subbu, I do hope you are reading- this is the meanest college EVER!), recession, stock market crash, 26/11, and most importantly, me getting a job- but hang on: all of these happened- wait for it- LAST YEAR!!! Yes, call me dyslexic, but even in school, I had this problem: for the first two months of the year, I kept writing the date wrong on the top right hand corner of the copy. By March, just as I was getting used to the new year feel, it was time for exams, and nobody really cared that I have eventually caught up! Sigh… childhood traumas haunt you forever!!

But 2008 was probably one year that was like a national (or global) nightmare, and we have never been more relieved on 31st December as we finally said goodbye to one of the most crisis laden twelve months. Personally it’s been quite a ride, but since one of my new year resolutions is to be positive and move ahead without looking back, I am not going to do my usual month-wise post-mortem of the year gone by… (an exercise which totally enamors me)… Talking about moving ahead, and new year resolutions (whoever said new year resolutions were so 16-ish, just doesn’t have the youthfulness of dreaming about impossible things), I simply love the ritual of making a whole new beginning and then starting all over again at the same place, only a year older!

Like for instance, losing weight has been a resolution since the last ten years, and it still hasn’t happened, but it continues to top the list of my resolutions. The rest… well, I am keeping mum about them, because I am serious about them, so no blabbering (incidentally, no blabbering also features in my updated resolutions list)… so let’s hope 2009 makes me a better person (or at least a thinner person) and that my troubles are as fickle as my resolutions…

Ladies' Coup

Mumbai is synonymous to its local trains: it’s a romantic concept somehow, in spite of its peak hour traffic, where you see thousands of people flooding into the platform, where each second counts almost as much it does to an Olympic athlete, where people’s lives are hanging in the balance (literally), where a common bond is forged between the nameless, faceless common man…

And imagine yourself to be a young girl, just out of your teens, new in Mumbai, stranded all alone in some godforsaken station, your head in a whirl, fighting the ghosts of past, present and future. And then the train comes, you head towards the ladies’ compartment as you see couples holding hands and families with young children and vendors all rushing towards the general compartment. There is something lonely and pitiful about the ladies’ coup or for that matter any sort of reservation- be it bus or be it the parliament! The train stops for a split second, you see the women fighting and struggling into the compartment, abusing each other in some language that you don’t understand, then the station guard comes with a stick, slams the door shut on your face, and it starts moving while you are still on the platform with a heavy bag running helplessly after the train. He says something you don’t understand, and the next moment you are again standing all alone- but this time on an empty platform. And you suddenly break down, crying like a baby. And he comes to you, and assures you that he will put you in the next train due in one hour…

This time you are more determined, even as tears are still running down your cheek. This time you make it without any help, this time you fight it out. You make your way inside the compartment with women and children occupying every inch of available floor space and you notice an extraordinary camaraderie among them- the same women who were abusing each other, who were ready to tear one another’s hair off were sitting together and gossiping like old friends. As you stand in the middle with your bag on the shoulder they stare at your ear phones, at your modern outfit, at your short hair and then at your tear strained vulnerable face. Suddenly they soften, they say something which again you don’t understand, and then they gesture to the heavy bag and your shoulder. One of them holds it for you, while another makes a little room for you in the bench already carrying two extra people. You nod at them gratefully, and slip yourself between them, smile and stare outside the window with a vacant look in your eyes. Then they come again, the tears streaming out, and this time you don’t even fight them- you just let them trickle down your cheeks, and then one of the women taps you and asks you what’s wrong. You are embarrassed, you brush off your tears and say, nothing. She persists and the others also join in, as they start asking questions, most of which you don’t understand and then they make up their own minds. Are you a Hindu or a Muslim? You must be a Muslim because you aren’t wearing a bindi. You new in Mumbai for studying? Missing your mom na? You nod, gratefully. Then they stare at your phone which has a wallpaper of your mom hugging you. Suddenly their maternal instincts take over, and one of them puts her arm around you. It’s a dirty arm, with the evident filth of a train journey, but you feel comforted, you feel one of them. Then a kid comes and stands close to you. You draw him closer to you, pick him up as he settles comfortably on your lap. You hold on to him, and before long, he twirls his fingers round yours and you instinctively give him a hug. He gives a toothy smile and then falls asleep, as your legs freeze under his weight. And then you fall asleep, as your kajal smudges with your tears rendering your face a scary look…

Inside out...

Now that we are in the middle of the placement process, especially this being the recession year and recruitments being freezed, we really really appreciate the trauma of sitting through endless inane GDs, tiring interviews, mindless psychometric tests and we really really try very hard to suppress our urge to speak our minds, but as they say, honesty isn’t exactly what companies are looking for! The mantra is, “Be yourself, but not too much…”

So if you do happen to struggle your way through an interview after mind boggling written tests or vicious fishmarkets (a.k.a. group discussions), be prepared with the most ridiculous, yet popular questions asked by most panelists:

So, tell me about yourself…
Uhhmm… Are you really really interested? Well, once upon a time, in a small village of Pathankot, was born a beautiful princess called Pinky Braganza…. And so on and so forth…

What are your strengths and weaknesses?Strengths:
Well, I am an expert in flirting… my sole achievement at B school has been my six boyfriends and that too when I have three more outside college and an outstation boyfriend of three years.
Weaknesses: Well, I used to be an adolescent mass murderer…

Where do you see yourself five years from now?
Obviously in your chair harassing a poor student…

Why do you want to join our organization?
Because the organization I am interested in is not interested in me, and you buggers are all I have…

Give us one reason why we should take you.
Because you don’t have better options, and neither do I. So let’s just stop this farce and get on with it…

Well, now that I have got it out of my system, I feel better!! Obviously none of these answers can be used during an actual interview- so keep that fake smile on, and do memorize all the inane business quotations which you can inappropriately apply in the wrong contexts!

Escapism...

“Privacy is a luxury in Mumbai that only money can buy”- Shantaram….

Now I have been brought up in a nuclear family with working parents and no siblings, and I had grown up learning to love my own company and never really complained about it. By the time I was in my teens, privacy was something I treasured deeply and I made sure I had it. Thankfully my parents were the liberal kinds who respected my “space” as long as I was responsible enough and disciplined enough.

When I moved to Bombay, it was suddenly a different story altogether and in the last six years, I have been tossed around from one hostel to another while the number of room mates has only multiplied! Suddenly I had people around me all the time, people who talked about anything, people who expected you to tell them about little detail in your life, people who ate together, went out together, shopped together, studied together and people who never quite understood my need to be alone at times. While I enjoyed this new found “bonding”, it also made me feel a little claustrophobic at times with an aching desire to escape, to just be by myself, away from the madding crowd, when those long lonely walks by the sea were not enough, when you crave for freedom…

Random Musings...

The Fort office… The Ring… The Leopold…

The red skirt… The oversized T shirt… The rain…

The Ashes test match… The puchka… The couch…

The scrabble board… The waves… The swing…

The baby corn… Long Island Tea… Oh Calcutta…

Cat’s in the Cradle… I Rock… The Orchid…

The Nameplate… (the distance) The Diwali…

The Importance of Being Earnest!

Suddenly I am in a phase where I am at peace with myself, I no longer need constant reassurance, I no longer feel short changed, I no longer want to crib about the petty things in life- placements, grades, popularity, recognition… (though weight continues to be a pressing paranoia) and most importantly, I no longer feel the chronic need to sms! That’s like a HUGE relief, like freedom from some age old bondage…

I think the recent Mumbai blasts and the economic recession have something to do with it. Innocent people are dying for no fault of theirs, human life has just become like any other perishable commodity, thousands of people are being given pink slips without any warning and every day newspapers are full of one grim story or another- and that kind of puts your life in perspective, makes you a little guilty and probably helps you to appreciate your own life a little more! When you are busy mourning the lack of that extra one lakh in your package, there are people around you with families who have been shown the door. When you are sitting at Tamanna cafe cribbing about the service, another hotel in Mumbai is being set on fire. May be my dad does have a point when he calls me an ungrateful greedy wretch…but yeah I do miss the smsing: it’s been a part of me ever since I learnt how to operate a mobile phone, it’s my way of expressing myself, it’s my way of communicating and it’s my way to make my point! All the important realizations in my life were over text messages. But this part of my life is called… growing up!!

And am reading again.... color purple, liar's poker, shantaram... reading kind of makes life better than it actually is! n m trying to be happy, n m slightly incoherrent n slightly befuddled. dad's birthday tomorrow, but more than that, it reminds me of babri masjid attacks!

A Wednesday...

The relationship between the reel and the real is often parallel to that of the chicken or the egg: which came first? So is reel life a portrayal of the real, or is it the other way round? Do filmmakers and novelists get inspired by what happens on the streets, or does the little boy strangle himself while aping the Shaktimaan on screen? A couple of months back I was admiring the movie “A Wednesday” which was a common man’s take on terrorism. And now, here we are, another Wednesday, another atrocious act of terrorism, but this time, it’s for real!

A lot has been written and said and heard about the Mumbai blasts on 26th November, 2008 and my blog certainly isn’t about voicing opinion about serious subjects or about issues of national importance- terrorism, politics, religion, foreign relations and so on and so forth! And no, today I am not going to make an exception for one of the greatest ever crises that India has ever faced. This post is again about me, about the Bombay I know and as an ordinary citizen how it affects me…

I spent five years in South Mumbai, at very heart of where all the carnage has happened, and I have closely observed all the tragedies that it had been subject to in this short span of time- I was there during the floods of 26th July, the bomb blasts at Marine Lines and Zaveri Bazaar, the blasts in the train, and I escaped unscathed on all the occasions. I worked at Nariman Point, stayed at a pigeon hole at Girgaum, hurried through the CST station at odd hours, watched movies at the Metro, sneaked into the Trident, admired the Taj from below and walked miles through the narrow crowded lane of Colaba Causeway hunting for a cheap bargain stopping by at the Leopold for a lunch date with friends. And today, as horrific images of the blazing grand edifices flash across the screen, I am reminded how vulnerable they actually are- not withstanding all their grandeur! They represent the dollar dreams of Mumbai, the status symbol for the well heeled South Mumbai elite and their boardrooms are heart of corporate India where life changing decisions are made! And they successfully intimidate the common man, but unfortunately our cargo clad, English speaking teenaged terrorist is no common man.

Yes I am angry, yes, I am appalled, and yes I don’t understand this collective apathy, this refusal to learn from mistakes, this callous attitude on the part of our “leaders”, but at the same time I also know that public memory is short, that this too shall pass… We shall again pride ourselves on the famed “spirit of Mumbai”, but really, do we have a choice here? It’s not the spirit stupid, it’s just that we have to make ends meet that makes us get up in the morning, board that ill-fated train to the ill-fated CST station to the ill-fated Nariman House for work the next day. It’s a Hobson’s Choice: either you sit at home and see your family starve, or you risk your life and go to work hoping that you don’t become the victim today. It’s not a question of spirit, but of compulsion.

Having said all this, we would
continue as before…
take our chances…
live on the edge…
love Mumbai…

Give us two weeks!!