Mera Bharat My India II

Posted on June 8, 2011 by phoenixr

The Uber-Rich and The Babalog

I once wrote a blog post about the 3 Indias that co-exist in our country. The urban Baba-Log that are beautifully depicted by Karan Johar’s movies. These guys are rich, and definitely think that they have the divine right to rule. They look down on the wannabes and have a complete disconnect from the rural India. The Swiss Black Money Club (the uber rich) that reacted so violently, to protect their ill gotten fortunes are a part of this elite I feel. There was all this money to protect, children’s phoren education, a plush lifestyle etc etc. No wonder the corridors of power pulled a few strings, got the police to lathi charge folk sleeping at Jantar Mantar. And yes, Mr. Kapil Sibal, this is a democracy. Folk can peacefully protest, and aam janta gave you and your colleagues their job. Aam junta can ask for hisab too. Too bad it happened in your tenure, but there it is.

The Wannabes

Remember Khosla Ka Ghosla? Do Dooni Char? And the recent movie Band Baja Baraat? The movies represent the urban classes, that do not have the money. But they want it so bad! And they are the folk that conjure up fears of Indian culture being spoilt by foreign brands. Oh yes, they are the self proclaimed guardians of Indian culture and morality. They are the ones who will opt for cheaper preventive health care measures that Baba Ramdev offers in his Yoga. This India is the source of Baba Ramdev’s power. They want a finger in the pie too. They want the power held for so long by Baba Log. They are jingoistic, very patriarchal, but they appreciate the irony of the ruling party laughing at Ramdev fleeing wearing a salwar kameez.

The rural India

And in this they are being assisted by the third main India, the rural India. Omkara showed this class in its true colours. These Indians have not yet come into their own. When they do … well India is going to be a very different ball game altogether. They hate urban India, think we are fools. To them superstition, black magic make more sense than the black money that has the country in uproar. But they understand Anna Hazare and Baba Ramdev. Hence they are supporting the Wannabes

I think that right now, the wannabes have served notice to the Baba log and what we are seeing is a struggle for power. The vernacular India has woken up and smelt the coffee. They have had enough and the rich people, so used to ruling in a feudal way are fighting to keep them from snatching the power out of their hands.

Wonder how this will end.

As of now, its the news channels that are laughing all the way to the bank.

Again, my thanks to the cartoonists who have given us such catchy images of the current events. I have published cartoons I recieved in email forwards, I claim no credit for them

Nero fiddled when Rome burnt

Posted on June 5, 2011 by phoenixr

The thing about history is that a lot of it is a bunch of poppycock, and a pretty stinky bunch of poppycock, at that! The historical truth is that Rome was not burnt completely, about a tenth of Rome burnt. Nero could not have fiddled as Rome burnt, fiddles were invented about a thousand years later. Some Christians insist that he played the lyre while Rome burnt. But there are reports that Nero was in Antium, not Rome, when the fire broke out.

According to Tacitus, the historian, he rushed back to Rome on getting the news. He organized relief efforts, funded by his own money, even opened the palaces to shelter the homeless. But still the perception that Nero fiddled while Christians were persecuted and Rome burnt remains.

I think there is a lesson here that our leading party could learn. It is hard to fight perceptions.

But then I feel that they were never in touch with ground realities and now have lost it completely.

I mean, where was the need for strong arm tactics at the Ramleela ground? Ramdev Baba may be double jointed and adept at selling his brand of yoga, but he is another person who is not in touch with ground realities. He even stated that Yoga could “cure” homosexuality, for God’s sake! If they allowed the circus to continue, he would have been buried under his own lack of political savvy-ness. But Lo and Behold! The two day circus at Ramleela Ground ended in a Diwali of sorts – thanks to the ham handedness of our rulers. I heard cries of “Ram Dev Baba Amar Rahe”

Yeah sure, thanks to Congress, Ram Dev Baba has become amar! Ham handed for sure. I am appalled at the stupid timing. Sunday is when everyone is home. This is summer, and no one goes out. People watch TV. And the images they see lead to just one conclusion :-

This Govt does not want to do anything about corruption. So what if it jailed Kalmadi and Kani. They were arm twisted into doing it. This Govt wants to bring back emergency like Indira Gandhi.

Nero fiddled when Rome burnt

And you know what, not a peep from the Queen – who is incommunicado

Not a word from the Prince who was ashamed to be Indian a few days ago.

And the decoy ruler? Well, have we ever heard him saying anything forcefully?

Where are they? Are we leader-less? Is this why we elected them?

You know what the perception is …

Nero fiddles away

while our Rome burns

All the cartoons put up in the post are from email forwards, I claim no copyright for them. I thank the cartoonists for their brilliant depiction of current events

My letter to Femina

Posted on June 3, 2011 by phoenixr

Respected Sir/Madam,
This letter is in reference to the very short story that you have published in your issue of May 5, 2011.

The short story in question was written by me and first put on my blog, which is under Creative Commons License. Later, it was given to Mr. Prashant Karhade who published it in an anthology of short stories by contemporary women writers “Ripples” The MOU was drawn by Mr. Prashant Karhade for all the contributing writers, and it was stated clearly in the MOU that the copyrights of the stories rests with the author concerned.

I am writing this letter to you out of sheer disappointment. I was under the impression that a reputed magazine like Femina would at least contact an author and take her permission before publishing her story. The original story was mangled, edited poorly and without my permission and then published.

I am a blogger and you have clearly given my blog link under the story. You could have given me the kind courtesy of at least taking my permission before publishing my story, and not tampered with the original.

When I brought this to your notice, you were kind enough to mail me a personal apology, blaming it on the “oversight” of your feature writer of the page.

I sincerely do not think that this is adequate recompense. You have said repeatedly on Twitter that you are looking into the matter. I wonder how much time you need to reply to my mail as well as take steps to “make up for the error” as you kindly assured me in your email of May 26th 2011.

I look forward to a speedy reply from you.

With regards
Ritu Lalit

Sunday morning fun

Posted on May 29, 2011 by phoenixr

I switch on the TV and get a black screen. There is no snow, no blue and no picture screen. Just a black screen.

Me : Scream! My TV does not have power

Kid#2 : It has power but something is wrong with it. It does not work.

Me : How?

Kid#2 : I dont know, voltage fluctuations must have burnt some part

Me : When did this happen?

Kid#1 : Don’t you know? I think that was Tuesday.

And it is Sunday today …….

Me : Hot damn. I wanted to watch some TV

Kid#2 : No you dont. Anyone who does not need a TV for four days does not need one.

Me : But I wanted to watch news

Kid#2 : Utube hai na

Kid#1 : Vaise bhi, we call your room the honeymoon suite. Solid bed, great airconditioning, no TV, door always locked

Me : ???????? Go pick on someone else, I am going back into my “honeymoon suite”

Damn they should have informed me that the damn TV broke. I could have gotten it repaired over the week!

The Femina fiasco

Posted on May 25, 2011 by phoenixr

We are bloggers, we write because it is our passion. And we pride ourselves in our originality. We are unique and creative and that is our sole reason for blogging. No, scratch that. We also get a rush from the comments, the interaction with the visitors to our blog. I can remember walking on air when I found out that people read the feeds to my blog. How cool is that? I had this huge grin on my face people and my family informs me that I was a huge pain for a while.

I have kept the blog ad free, but I am possessive about my content. I gave a couple of stories off my blog to Prashant Karhade of APK Publishers. One was a very short story titled “My Daughter’s Stricken Eyes Haunt Me”.

The MOU signed by me prior to publishing states clearly in Clause No. 4 that the copyright for this story lies with the writer.

Imagine my shock when I was congratulated by Hrishikesh Bawa on Facebook on my story appearing in Femina, right next to the recipes!

I was in office right then and could not lay my hands on the magazine.

And the story … badly mangled, with lines missing

This is the Femina May 4th issue … here is the cover

Should I feel flattered? Femina is a big name … after all. But no, sad to say but I dont. I keep my blog ad free, I do not profit from my writing. For that I work at a soul less desk job. And here is the fruit of my creativity, published in a magazine, for commerce. Some one else is profiting from it. In short, I’ve been had! Mera chu…ya kat gaya hai. And if Hrishikesh had not messaged me on FB I would not have come to know.

I have learnt from other bloggers that similar things have happened to them. Some of these reputed newspapers etc do not even list them as the source.

What do you say, bloggers? Are we so helpless, so unworthy that we don’t deserve the courtesy of a small email or a comment in our comment section? Are we so weak that we can be walked over?

Reactions of bloggers

Femina sinks to a new low

Where Femina Steals

Strongly support Ritu’s position

Femina and the stolen story

What is beauty?

Posted on May 19, 2011 by phoenixr

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, says an old saying. It is said that Laila was dark, skinny, with cracked lips and blackened teeth. She had a tobacco and paan chewing habit. But to the smitten Majnu, she was beautiful, and he gave his life up for her.

When I hear the term “Classic Beauty” I wonder. Perception of beauty is a very subjective thing, and every country has its own ideal. And then there is the matter of personal taste. Some people may find a cine star lovely, others may find her too artificial.

So what is real beauty? It took me almost a lifetime to get the answer.

As a child, I was one of those who can be called “cute” or “pretty”. My father did not like that at all. He was of the opinion that most good looking adults are shallow. So high sounding phrases like “Beauty is as Beauty does” and “Cultivating the inner self” etc. became subject of discourse. Not that it mattered to me. I basked in admiration and developed into a vain girl. Things come easy to pretty girls, which suited me, and I really liked the impression I created.

Thank God anorexia was not something we heard of then, otherwise, given the time I spent preening in front of the mirror, I was the right candidate for it.

As I grew up, I became interested in dramatics. Of course, I accepted none other than the leading female role. As I became proficient in emoting, I stared getting small jobs as a model and was offered a job as a leading actress in movies. My mother thought the producer was sleazy and freaked. She must have been right, he is not a big name and I never heard of any movie by a production house with that name. But I was young and over the moon! That led to a lot of unpleasantness at home. The parents disapproved, to put it mildly. It had nothing to do with “inner self” and “moral fiber”. Real beauty, as per my parents, had nothing to do with good features and fair skin. That was just a genetic gift.

It had nothing to do with all the time I spent in front of the mirror and all the products I slathered on my self. That was superficial, and not long lasting. Oh, I resented their sermons and even laughed at this obsession with the inner self.

Now I am fifty plus, and life has taught me much, but has taken away that fresh cutesy look of yore. Whatever claims I had towards attractiveness have been ravaged by time, and a lifetime’s worth of indulgence in food. I look at myself in the mirror and see an old woman, with graying hair and an expanding girth. So, does that make me ugly?

No, it does not.

When my sons hug me, snuggle into me and look me in the eyes, I see love. It makes me feel beautiful. When they say, “You are the best Mom” I feel lovely. I want to look my best for them.

When my partner looks at me with loving eyes and says, “You look so wonderful” it makes me feel gorgeous, like a goddess, or like Helen of Troy. I want to shine, to see the adoration in his eyes.

Perhaps my father spoke sense. True beauty is something that emanates from some where inside a person. And he really pushed me into developing the inner me.

But packaging is important too. We do live in a world where impressions matter. My beauty is real, it stems from the inner me, but I still spend time in front of the mirror and slathering products on my self. It satisfies the inner me.

You can vote for this article here

This post is written for the Indiblogger and Dove Real Beauty Contest. Check out this contest people. The first prize is for Rs 1 Lakh. I think its the highest ever amount for blogging

The face of my book

Posted on May 18, 2011 by phoenixr

I have a bowl at home, a pretty glass bowl, which is filled with glass butterflies. So when I am sitting at home watching television, I normally have it in my lap and run my hands through it. I like the clanging noise it makes. My undutiful offsprings beg to differ. It annoys them.

So, mostly tongue and cheek, I named my novel “A Bowlful of Butterflies”

I dreamt of this as a cover.

Yeah, yeah. It is not original and probably has a whole lot of copyright issues. But I thought it looked classy and dignified. That is me, I borrow class and dignity you see. My impetuosity does not grant me much of it in my person.

My huge fear was that the cover would be pink or blue and scream out on the shelves of book shops “This is by women, about women and for women”

That would scare any male buyer of the book, and that is 50% of the population. Horrors

So we went through a gamut of covers. Writing the book was easier I must say. A word of appreciation for my editor, she is so patient. Shikha, Lady RESPECT! You’re a saint.

And then we hit upon this one, which I loved

I loved the green, loved the mystery that this cover seemed to convey.

But sadly it was not to be …

As my DIL points out, it has too much detail, it may turn out cluttered. Well, she is an interior designer and has impeccable eye for detail.

So this is the final face of my book

You like???

Desi Beats

Posted on May 12, 2011 by phoenixr

I have heard of and admired truck art of Pakistan. The denizens of our neighbour decorate their vehicles with lots of love and care. We do not decorate our vehicles but we wear our philosophy and our experiences – not on our sleeves, but on our wheels. Some lovely pics … not all of them taken by me, but taken off Google

PROFOUND PHILOSOPHY

PITHY WIT IN AN AUTOS

(Translation : Sitting with your boyfriend and calling him Bhaiyya is forbidden)

One can’t underestimate auto wallahs eh? Reminded me of a family joke. Once Kid#2 totalled his car, I refused to buy another. So poor chappie has to go to college by auto. Now his auto wallah has the unlikely name of “JAANU”. Kid#2 shares this auto with a young girl who studies in the same university. The enterprising autowallah had his cell no. emblazoned inside the auto, followed by his name JAANU. Kid#2 rings him up and the guy brings his auto to him … where ever Kid#2 is in the city. I am not kidding you. The boy has a full on city wide auto service to call his own. Auto wallah suggested similar service to this girl too.

Girl : Aap koi aur naam batao (Give another name please)

JAANU : Magar yeh humara naam hai (This is my name)

Girl : Merey Papa mera khoon kar denge, koi aur naam please. Yeh naam mai cell mein nahin daal sakti (My father will kill me, I can’t save this name on my cell)

Needless to say this conversation had us in splits.

INDIAN AUTOS AND CRICKET

I am sure he stayed home the day after India won the world cup!

SEEN ON A 2 WHEELER

NOW FOR SOME UNREALISTIC AMBITION

AND SOME MORE

I LOVE THE LOFTY TONE OF THIS ONE

(Translation : I dont live my life being unaware of my self (self worth?), I dont snatch someone else’s peg of whisky and drink, If you want to overtake me, go ahead, I don’t care, I dont waste my time pursuing others)

CURSE TO WARD OFF THE EVIL EYE

(Translation : For the one with evil eye, may your children live, drink in the mornings/through the day, and gamble in the evenings), and the one in red paint on white is a message for the driver …. If you treat me like a queen, I will make you a king) Hmmm, I feel this works as a message from all women to their men

NOW THIS ONE IS ORIGINAL

(Translation : Don’t get jealous on seeing me, I have been bought on bank loan)

EVERYONE HATES KNOW IT ALLS

Most of the truck messages I have seen or read are in Gurumukhi, and I am not too good at reading and translating them, though I wish I could share

Colour Me Brown with Wella Kolestint

Posted on May 7, 2011 by phoenixr

I am not a high maintenance person. I have undergone waxing twice in my life, once on my marriage and once when my son got married. DIL bullied me into accompanying her to the parlour and getting arms and legs waxed. And I don’t get facials done. Parlours bore me to death. The idea of sitting somewhere for two or more hours does not appeal to me, even if I am getting something done to improve my appearance. I get the classic student-in-class syndrome. As a kid, I stared longingly out of the window during class, now I start thinking about all that I can do once the ordeal is over and I can escape the beautician’s parlour.

But then age has caught up with me. I need to colour my hair. Of course sitting with colour slathered on my head for an hour scared me so jugaad came into play. I started getting a pedicure or a manicure done while I waited for the girl to wash off the colour. I suspect that all my hair (whatever is left of it) is white under that colour.

When I signed up for the Wella Kolestint Hair Colour, I had this awesome role model in mind

Just look at that gorgeous mane. No wonder she made not one but two successful comebacks into movies and now I read that she is brand ambassador of Wella Kolestint. This lady is about my age but damn, she rocks! She looks well kept and wonderful.

Here is another diva with gorgeous hair

The great thing about Wella Kolestint is that the colours they offer suit the Indian skin. I chose dark brown for the conventional look and golden brown for those times when I feel adventurous. Of course as it happens at my home, Kid#1 and DIL both wanted to try it too. Kid#1 was keen on the golden brown, but ladies first, I insisted. Hence dark brown was the first one opened.

The box contains: A pre-color Treatment with Almond Extract, After Color Intense Shine Treatment/Conditioner, 1 pair of gloves, 1 tube of colour Creme, 1 bottle of Creme Developer, Instruction leaflet. I have a very light hair growth … hence I never got waxed. In fact I often joke that I am surprised I have eyebrows and eyelashes given the lack of hair! One box was more than enough for me, with a bit to spare for either Kid#1 or DIL to experiment with.

Well, did it give me a gorgeous lustrous mane like the divas above or the lady below?

NADA. But then this is a colour product, not a growth solution, eh?

On second thoughts, I don’t want hair like Rapunzel’s, her shampoo and colour bills must be astronomical!

VERDICT

My hair are softer, fall in manageable waves and they shine. The brown is soothing and, more importantly, the product hides the greys well. I am sold on the conditioner that is provided. I never knew that my hair could feel so soft.

A “Nest” Meeting

Posted on May 6, 2011 by phoenixr

And I met Shail Mohan of Shail’s Nest. Hence the “Nest” meeting.

I was sitting in office hardly working when a chat window opened out.

“Hi Ritu” popped up. It was Shail Mohan. Now I know Shail Mohan. She is someone who writes fantastic humor and is a big fan of Wodehouse. I like Wodehouse and I like her stories. Of course her poems zonk me out, but then serious poems zonk me out any way so I don’t hold such things against someone so nice as to make me laugh. Hence I replied “Hey Shail, wassup” or some such thing. “Can we meet?” was the question, of course worded ever so politely. The question should have been “When and how do we meet?” I was not going to miss out on meeting a weaver of some of the most profound tales I have read!

It turned out that she was in Ghaziabad. Now Ghaziabad is closer to my home than Trivandrum is. Which meant that if I swung in a chutti, I could meet her. Of course I am lousy with Geography and directions. When I was a kid, I remember writing that Nile flowed through Greece and then pleading with Godji to make Nile change its course. I have also driven to Apno Ghar in U.P. when I meant to go to IG airport at Palam. So I was a wee bit intimidated. I could, like Starship Enterprise, boldly set forth, but where would I reach? Thankfully Kid#2 and Google Maps stepped into the breach. We left nothing to chance. Kid#2 opened Google Maps on my … well, his blackberry and downloaded the app on my phone too. Shipra Mall, a place close to where Shail was staying was the place we rendezvoused. Ruchira of Nirjharini was to meet us there and Abha Midha of Daffodils, who lives in Faridabad was keen to go too. So I picked her up and off we went.

Shipra Mall is amazingly gracious a place. It is a mall, alright, but it has a certain old world charm. It is spacious and leisurely. None of the frantic feel that malls in Delhi, Faridabad and even Gurgaon have. I liked it.

The funny thing is that we were the first to reach even though we lived the furthest from Ghaziabad!

Ruchira was the first to come, and I spotted her far away. She can’t be missed. And then came Shail. The impression I had of Shail was (1) A thinker (2) Shy (3) Easy on the smiles. I got two out of three right. Shail is quiet, soft and easy on the smiles. She definitely is not shy! And she is pint sized

In the picture above we had her standing on a stair to come up next to us. Of course we put her with Ruchira, who is tall

Then we settled down for a leisurely lunch (which we forgot to order) since we had so much to say to each other

The waiter was requested to take the pics, and he willingly obliged. So lets forget/ignore the fact that we did not order and say that the waiter was too busy clicking us to serve us food.

Nothing like some (as Shail puts it) “refined sunflower oil” on a hot summer day

The food at Pind Baluchi was good, the company better. And Shail was sweet enough to get us all books. She gifted me one called “The Male Brain”. It is a fascinating insight into the working of a man’s mind, though I do feel that its unfair to explain away everything that a person does by listing hormones and neurons … but it does simplify male thinking a lot.

Here Abha and I are holding on to our gifts standing right next to that awesome door of Pind Baluchi. Sigh … now I want my front door to be like that, its so ornate … but I digress

And I wanted a photo with the Pind Baluchi Babaji, I always did. This time Kid#2 and I got one clicked

To people who have put up the question on FB … this is the younger one and he has not written a novel. But he writes the most awesome poems, most of which are edgy and serious. They stump me.

Abha wanted to go once we were done with lunch (or that is the impression I got). But my son actually enjoyed the lunch. Makes me think that we are not old biddies after all! And that we are fun and witty. He suggested coffee … and hit off totally with Ruchira, both of them lamenting the fact that they have difficult and bossy older siblings. I kept shut, I was the older sibling Could imagine my brother joining in LOL

We exited Pind Baluchi and landed up at Barista. I did try to get myself a chocolate excess, failing which a slice of apple pie, failing which a cold coffee with lots of cream. Sadly Kid #2 was with me and vetoed all of that, All I got a standard issue cold coffee.

It was a delightful afternoon. I love meeting blogger friends.