Stubborn as a mule!

Last Durga Puja, my father organized a musical show where all my family members took part; albeit me missing as usual. My father played the violin, my mother sang and my brother played the synthesizer. When someone asked me why I wasn’t a part of the concert, I proudly declared myself to be the black sheep of the family, with no musical talent what so ever. But later when I reflected upon my answer, I came to realize a very important aspect of my personality, which was that I am as stubborn as a mule! Even though it is not that I can’t sing- a friend of mine who is a professional guitarist even asked me to sing with him in one of his gigs- I have abstained from being properly trained in music. This is mainly because as a child I had grown quite tired of hearing things like, “Bengali girls who can sing get a good husband” and thus had promised to myself never to sing in front of people. My husband should love me despite the fact that I don’t sing, I had stubbornly thought. Today I am 21 and having matured considerably, I have come to realize that this obstinately behavior has had a very paradoxical effect on me. Even though I love singing, the only reason I didn’t do so was just to vex others. And in the end it is I who got hurt because, every thing said and done, I do love singing. I have now finally realized that I should learn to sing properly and nothing should stop me from doing so.

Dismal Reveries

The beautiful golden retriever’s coat almost gleamed in the sunlight. He seemed to be in immense hurry as he tugged hard at his collar, but some how his master seemed least concerned. She was tired of her shoots and had no intention to be punctual. she was also tired of people screaming her name all the time. ‘Katrina Kaif’ might have become a brand name- but she just didn’t care. All she craved for was some peace and serenity.

As she walked on she became lost in her reveries. She though of all the things she had- the cars, the money, the beautiful clothes- she had it all. And yet she felt that she had been a happier person seven years earlier. During those days her feet might have adorned Hawaii chappals instead of Gucci and yet she longed for those care free times. Also, she missed her mom and dad so much. Her dad might have been a humble clerk, but the compassion contained within his heart simply surpassed anyone she had met till date; except of course her darling mom. She might not have had been a great cook- she still remembered those half burned chapattis- but she was a great mom and even a greater human being. They had not been too well off but they led a happy and contended life. But she obviously yearned for more. Like all other misled youth, she also believed that luxury could buy happiness. She so wanted an A/C and looked on at the almost ancient table fan with contempt. And it was due to all these expensive wishes that she had decided to become a model and eventually an actress. Five to six years down the line, she had achieved her goals and all the goodies that came with it. And like all busy actresses, she too had no time for anything else except her work. And soon she saw less and less of her parents- the two people she cared most in the world about. She still remembered those mid shoot calls of her mom, which she had to unceremoniously reject. She tried her best to keep in touch with them, but in spite of her efforts, it became more and more difficult to do so.

Then one fateful day, they were gone- two wonderful human beings effaced from the face of the earth due to some ones reckless driving. When the news of their accident reached her, she was shaken beyond wits and it took her almost two years to recover from her grief and guilt of being away from her parents during their last days. Even their thoughts made her cry till date.
Suddenly she stopped, to shake off all the unpleasant emotions that had taken over her for a moment. She then checked her watch and realized that it was almost past eleven and decided to return home to get ready for her shoot.
As she entered her apartment, she was greeted by a fruit basket, which invariably made her smile. She knew that it was send to her by her gym instructor, who was always advising her to eat healthy. As she nibbled at a papaya and got ready for her shower, her thoughts trailed towards her upcoming movie. It was a typical masala mirch film- the type she was weary of. The movies she really wanted to do seemed so out of her reach. There had been a documentary she had seen recently, which was about young Muslim boys and how even in their tender age, they were made to parade around in AK-47, in the name of jihad. That documentary had chilled her heart and she really wanted to make a movie on the topic. But when she presented her ideas to a famous producer, who also happened to be the director of the movie she was enacting in, he had been too busy to even consider the idea. He had more important things to think about, like the song which was supposed to be shot at the locales of France, and for which they were to leave soon on his private jet, which happened to be a Boeing 747. Anyways, she already knew that there was no producer who would take her seriously- to them she was just an air headed actress who also happened to be famous.
She checked on the time once again and decided it was time to buck up. So she chucked away all her unwanted thoughts and got ready for her refreshing shower.
PS- This article ws written for a copy test where i ws supposed 2 use the following words to cook up a story: KATRINA KAIF, HAWAI CHAPPAL,GOLDEN LABRADOR,HALF BURNED CHAPPATIS etc.

Let's not blow ourselves up!!!

Passion can be a really powerful emotion. But once it loses control, lives can be wrecked.

Sure, it is wonderful to love passionately. Loving a person with our whole heart and giving away our life if need be, seems to be the flavor of the season, when one is struck by Cupid's arrow. But do we ever stop and think that maybe sacrificing our life is not always the only way to love, that sometimes walking away from our beloved can also act as a powerful emotive to express our innermost feelings?

Passion is needed; the extreme of it is not. If we look around, we will find ample of examples where moderation of it is very much the need of the hour.

One goes to a public place and blows themselves up. They die, along with many others. Why, you ask? Perhaps it was the passionate love for his or her religion or country that made him/her take such a drastic step. Caught in the extreme mindset, the person did not stop and think about others. And from this, a simple conclusion emerges: passion can completely annihilate logic.

One topic I feel strongly about is feminism. I care about the woes of women and would one day like to do whatever is in my power to help them. But when I say that I am a feminist, does that mean that I am only preoccupied only with the worries of womanhood and wouldn't like to help others apart from them? Don't I realize that life is a crisis where everyone suffers? Yes I do.

But the sad reality is that now days feminism too has been perceived to have taken the path of extremism. If one speaks about women welfare, that person can be termed as an 'irrational, heartless and a selfish man-hater'. The term "feminist" nowadays evokes that extreme passion within the hearts of many-a-man and makes them detest women from depth of their hearts.

I think it is time for all of us to sit down calmly and contemplate. Today we cannot afford to be swayed by our emotion at the slightest provocation. Because if that remains the case, one day we might all just decide to go blow ourselves up.

MOVIE REVIEW: CHAK DE INDIA!!!

It’s official. I am in love with Shahrukh khan. I did not think this day would come, but it has. ‘Chak De India’ has finally proved to me, what a great caliber of an actor shahrukh really is and now I am left marveling at his every move.

At first glance, the movie seemed to be about a loser team given a new lease of life by their charismatic coach. The idea seemed agonizingly familiar and most of us had jumped to the conclusion of it being a definite copy.

Thankfully, the movie was much more than that and had a delightfully refreshing take on the already treaded path of the coach and the team.

The film has been picturized on the Indian women’s hockey team. But the very first thing that hits us viewers, winnig and loosing is the tongue-in-cheek spoof on the Indian Diaspora and its crazy obsession with winning and losing.

The movie begins with kabir khan (shahrukh), a captain of the Indian men’s hockey team, missing a crucial penalty corner. And that miss results in his downfall. The match happened to be against the Pakistani team; the team which has the ability to draw out the competitive streak in any patriotic Indian, irrespective of what the sport may be. And thus, Kabir Khan is accused of treachery and match fixing and then ensues a scene so familiar that I almost chuckled.

Effigies were burned and ruthless comments were made against the poor captain. The public finally “won” and he had to disappear from the sports scene.

But Kabir had to return for the movie to progress. And he did, after seven years, armed with the burning determination of gaining his lost glory. How did he go about it? By being the coach of the Indian women’s hockey team of course.

The women’s hockey team, as expected, was shown in a dilapidated state. The Indian sports association foresaw not even a glimmer of hope and talent in the team. The image of the Indian women not being able to do much by “running around in knickers” seemed to be the essence of their every conversation. They even tried to dissuade Kabir from taking on the challenge of making winners out of “losers” and in the process and in the process further degrade himself in the eyes of the nation. But Kabir refuses to relent from his decision. Did he take the right decision? Go watch the movie and you’ll know!

For me, the highlight of the movie is when coach gives a pep-talk to his team, who were on the verge of making history. He tells his hopeful aspirants of the world cup that they only have seventy minutes to do their very best. Winning and losing was immaterial. It was actually the seventy minutes, which the players would spend on the ground, which would be remembered by them for the rest of their lives. And this seventy minutes not even god would be able to take away from them.

This scene touched the very chords of my heart. Because, according to me, this is the reality of life. Winning may be all good. But in the end what matters the most is that we tried hard enough.

Chak De India is one movie all sports lovers and criticizers must watch. It’s a cinematographic delight and a satisfying food for thought.

HAIKUS

Fighting for women

Can be pretty burdensome

When men don’t support

A crowded blue line

Whizzing madly on the road

Has been banned today

Watching you today

My heart does a somersault

I am deep in love

Waves crashing at us

As we sit down at the beach

Building a castle

Quilts and hot coffee

Helps us throughout winter days

As we wait for spring

Looking for the stars

At the terrace in the night

Pitch black sky stare back

dialogue-btwn a women and mistress of her husband!

Erica looked at the calm features of the women and finally got the courage to speak.

“So you aren’t mad at me?” she questioned.

“Mad at you?” asked Mrs. Grant “why would I be mad at you dear?”

Erica was stunned. “For starters, I used to sleep with your husband”.

“Yes, you used to”, sighed Mrs. Grant, “And now you are pregnant with no one to look after you”.

“Well, don’t you blame me for whatever happened?”

Mrs. Grant smiled; a kind of smile that people just give but it never really reaches their eyes.

“I blame both of you dear,” heaved Mrs. Grant, “do you understand me?”

“So you are divorcing him?”

Now it was Mrs. Grants turn to be bewildered.

“Of course not! What on earth gave you that idea?”

Erica was embarrassed and all she could manage to say was “oh! I thought….”

After that there were few minutes of silence as neither knew how to proceed.

Finally it was Erica who broke the silence. “Why am I here Mrs. Grant?” she prodded.

“Well, you are pregnant and I don’t have a child”, explained Mrs. Grant calmly.

“What!” exclaimed Erica, “you can’t possibly mean that!”

“Oh, yes I do. I very much mean it.”

“Well you can’t,” started Erica gritting her teeth.

Mrs. Grant almost smirked “Oh you don’t want to part with you child, do you?” she asked sarcastically

“It’s my child and I won’t give it away” growled Erica.

“You are without a dime. How pray are you going to look after the baby?”

Ps- i wrote this dialogue for my creative writing class.. and guess what!
my teacher compared me to Oscar wilde!!!!!!!

MY DEEP ABYSS

Where do I go from here?

I am lost in the deep abyss

Of sorrow and despair

Wallowing in self pity

I keep on walking

On the endless road

Filled with thorns

And not a rose

I wish I could talk

But no one seems to care

Silly girl: they proclaim

And walk off on their own way

I discern somewhere

A glimmer of light

But then I walk towards

A dark empty space

And so the chasm deepens

Hope seems to fade

And I just wish and pray

That I can end it all today

Haiku!

I recently came across an unusual and a very refreshing genre of poetry in my creative writing class. And it goes by the name of ’Haiku’. Haiku is one of the most famous forms of traditional Japanese poetry. Written in a 17- syllable verse form, it consists of three metrical units of 5, 7 and 5 syllables. And this means it is a highly constraint type of poetry writing and you can not afford to go overboard with your thoughts. Also, keeping the syllables in mind can be extremely nerve wracking. But in spite all of its shortcomings, haiku can turn out to be a creative delight. It can paint a beautiful picture of words and express an entire gamut of emotions in just three lines.

This is precisely why Haiku has, in a short span of time, become the new love of my life. I am deeply infatuated and simply had to try my hand at it. So here goes nothing:

Quilts and hot coffee

Helps us through out winter days

As we wait for spring.

Doesn’t that paint a picture or what!!! And yes, I have been very faithful to those damn syllables too. But in case my experiment does not satisfy you, I will cite another example, but this time one I have stolen from the net:

Refreshing shower

Falls from my watering can

Catching a rainbow

Beautiful isn’t it?

Haikus can also a source of immense entertainment, especially while writing movie reviews. Yes, you heard right. Reviews of your favorite movie can also be written in the Japanese form. In fact there are various websites dedicated to it. Don’t believe me?

Well, then go check out this link:

http://www.wunderland.com/WTS/Ginohn/poetry/HMRlist.html.

Surprised? I too was. But soon I realized its worth and its capacity to amuse us. And if you ask me what my favorite movie review is, it has to be the one written on THE DAVINCI CODE:

A scavenger hunt
based on the crazy notion
that some dude had sex.

Hilarious isn’t it?? And oh so true!

Go ahead and take a risk.

Last week i made chocolate brownies. Pardon me for not being modest-but it was damn good. It was so good that my diabetic father risked another tiny piece even at the prospect of getting an earful from my mother. And thus it was very natural for me to offer them to each and every one who visited my house.One such visitor happened to be an uncle of mine. But when i presented him those delectable cakes, prompt came the question,"dear, can you tell me what the recipe is?" and this was even before he picked one up! For a second i was baffled, but soon enlightenment dawned upon me. I realized that he must be enquiring about the non-veg content and proceeded to tell him about the eggs that were very much part pf the ingredients. At first he shook his head in dissapointment as he generally did not consume eggs. But as i have already mentioned, they were good brownies-they looked good and they smelled good. soon he gave away to temptation and popped one into his mouth. And guess what, he loved it.

Now, i really feel that we all have something to learn from the incident. Just imagine what that uncle would have missed had he discarded the cake simply because of some insolent eggs, whose presence by the way was no where in sight or smell. What i am trying to say is that sometimes in life we must do what we feel like, without thinking of pros and cons. Sure, we must all be alert and prudent in our actions lest we do something stupid. But in my opinion, every once in a while, we must do what our heart tells us. because you never know, may be at the end of the road, a chocolate brownie might just be waiting for us.

Wake Up To The Smell Of Coffee!

I love coffee. I am as passionate about it as is M.F Hussain is about Madhuri Dikshit. And before you all start worrying about my priorities, let me safely clarify that that I do have other interests in life. But the fact remains that drinking coffee is very much a part of it. For me, a day without coffee is a day without oxygen and a coffee ill made is as near to being a sacrilege.

In today’s world, no one can claim ignorance from the taste of coffee, unless of course he or she is an alien from outer space. In metropolitan cities, like Delhi, coffee houses can be sighted in abundance and every second advertisement in the television seems to be that of a coffee product. Perhaps as a result of this, friends or couples catching up with each other in coffee joints have become a common phenomenon. I too often visit them. But I prefer my company to be books rather than people. Call me a loner, but sitting in a coffee house, engrossed in a good book while sipping a heavenly cup of coffee, is in my opinion, an ideal scenario.

Now having already voiced my undying love for those lovely beans, one would expect me to be an expert in areas relating to it. The grim fact is that such is not the case. But since I have unequivocally stated my passion, a google search is only a fair thing to do. “History of coffee can be traced to at least as early as the 9^th century,when it appeared in the highlands of ethopia which is in the north east of Africa”. From there it spread to some of the muslim worlds, and then to Europe and so on. But the most important thing is that it spread far enough to reach me, every day.

There are various types of coffee, perhaps known to one and all. Cappuccino happens to be my personal favorite. Cappuccino is a strong coffee with dollops of frothy cream, topped with a pinch of powdered chocolate; ah Heaven! And there is espresso. It is a strong black coffee prepared by forcing live steam through dark roast coffee beans. The coffee is placed into the espresso machine, designed just for this purpose and hot water is forced through the coffee at a very high pressure-extracting all the flavor possible. Espresso coffees are a common sight at various restaurants and work places but I consider this type of preparation the worst ever; milk and sugar are literally dumped into them and there is almost no taste or sight of coffee. Then there is the South Indian and the evergreen cold coffee. There might be other sorts too, but I am regrettably unaware of them. But no worries, I am sure to savor them all some day.

By now, you all must be aware of the fact that I am a coffee addict. And that somehow a great source of worry for my mother. With my intake of every cup, her anguish seems to increase. She acts as if it i is equivalent to alcohol and that it is surely to have an adverse effect on my healh. So it is for her,and people like her, that I shall state its benefit. Every body knows that coffee helps us stay alert and overcome drowsiness. I am sure some of us may glowingly and some woefully reminisce our exam days, when we stay awake late at nigh, book in one hand and a cup of coffee in another. But thats not its only positive point. It also protects us against free radicals which cause cancer, heart diseases and aging. Its consumption can also decrease the risk of diseases like Parkinson and furthermore, plays a positive role in our liver function. Now having given such a glowing tribute to coffee, I run the risk of being called biased. But I do not care. I am an ardent coffee drinker and shall always swear by it.

The Cruel Facts of Ragging

Ragging has always been a part and parcel of college life. since time immemorial, it has been a common practice during the commencement of the educational year. But more often than not, such practices have left the new students traumatized. That it is a platform where juniors could meet their seniors so as to cultivate a friendly relationship with them is perhaps an argument long forgotten.

Ragging has, now days, become synonymous with the mental and physical trauma, undergone by the young and innocent students. it is now perhaps a mere euphemism for cruelty perpetrated by various anti-social elements, in the garb of senior, on unsuspecting freshers. The harsh stance taken up by the Supreme Court goes on to prove this prevalent trend. As per the Supreme Court ruling, ragging is now a culpable criminal offence. Furthermore, educational institutions have now been made liable to file an FIR, when a case of ragging comes to light.

Now the question that remain is, why has ragging taken such a heinous turn? Ragging, which was supposed to be a light hearted endeavor, has now become a terror among the college aspirants. There have been innumerable cases where the new students have suffered immeasurably, due to the torturous and cruel escapades of their seniors. And the answer could lie in the fact that cruelty is imbibed within the human nature. This has, time and again, been proved through instances, steeped in various facets of life; religion and the violence instigated in its name, perhaps being the most evident instance. Religion is supposedly a means to bring its followers close to god and be in tune with spirituality. Thus violence should be a far cry from it. But this is clearly not the case. The barbaric and audacious deeds perpetrated by men, in the name of religion, has become a common trend trough out the human history.

Another example could be domestic violence. Now days, there are countless cases of violence of one spouse against another. There have been some extreme cases of cruelty heaped upon the bride, by their husbands and other relatives. These cases mar the very sanctity of marriage.

The above examples may go on to prove the inherent barbaric nature of humans. But then, we must not forget the other aspects of human nature. Though history has created many miscreants, it has also produced various apostles, sent on earth for greater good of mankind; mother Teresa being the foremost example. And one must not view this as a rarest among rare case. Because, though common man is capable of brutality, he also has in him, a humanistic streak.

Supreme Court’s stringent laws on ragging, or on various other aspects, might not help in controlling and curbing the basic instincts of man. So it is really up to us common mortals, to decide whether to give voice to our crude side, or rise up to our true humane nature.