Games People Play

From the story "Independence" by Romesh Gunesekera in the collection New Writing 14, published by the British Council in association with Granta:

[T]hey were giggling over one of Nara's stories about snorting on the beach. 'I thought the Italians wanted to go snorkeling, so I took them down the south coast. How the hell was I to know...'

Stranger than Fiction?

Well it amazes me to see how many things in this world never cease to amaze me.

Just one tiny example. I received an email from Schlumberger HR asking me to make a dossier of 20-odd certificates which I will be required to carry during my induction program in Abu Dhabi. It included probably every certificate that I'd have obtained since class 10 (except for the birth certificate, which would be way before that) and the birth certificates of your parents, spouse and children, wherever applicable. I would like to presume I was born only after my parents were born, and how does it really matter what their dates of birth are or whatever else they are trying to gauge from those certificates.

The topper, though, was to carry a marriage certificate or a concubine certificate, if and whichever applicable.

Now, I've seen and heard of a very many things over the past few years, most more enlightening than not, but I really never imagined I'd hear of a concubine certificate! Do such things as these exist? Why would one want to be a certified concubine? Prostitutes, I can imagine, but then they wouldn't really be working in Schlumberger, or wouldn't be prostituting of they were earning in excess of $50,000 per annum. This is, of course, going with the prejudice that this is a profession borne out of necessity/depravity/force or various other such undignified reasons, and not out of choice. Even so, I can live with that certificate from countries where prostitution is legal.

The only sane explanation I can come up with is that SLB is a global company with a strong focus on the Middle East where the Islamic customs dominate, and it is allowed to keep multiple wives. The second and third and fourth wives would probably be the concubines with an official concubine status as opposed to married, though if they are wives, why so? I can't really think of anything else.

Views?

From Wordsworth's 'Lines Written in Early Spring'

To her fair works did nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.

Ekspected?

Came across a name, Apexa Sharma, on Facebook news feed. I tried to pronounce it as Apex-aa, and it didn't sound right, even for a Western name. It was a few second before I realized that it's Apeksha or अपेक्षा, spelled with a difference. Why? WHY? Even the pronunciation isn't correct, strictly speaking. It would be अपेक्सा.

Flights of Fantasy

A dialogue between a call centre executive and a stewardess.

“Good Morning, ma’am. I’m calling from ICICI Prudential. Your number has been selected for a special scheme on our life insurance policies. We’d like to offer you a reduced premium on all our schemes. It’s a completely hassle-free process, with the least amount of time requirement from your end. I’ll be glad to read out the benefits if you are interested,” rambled the call centre executive on the phone as Tanya listened.

“Is this offer open irrespective of profession?” asked Tanya.

“Why yes, ma’am. Most definitely. Our only concern is to serve our customers and their interests,” said the executive, elated at finally having found a customer who was interested and listening.

“I do think I need insurance right now. I’m an in-flight attendant with one of the international airlines. Just this morning I got back from a, personally, highly eventful flight.” She hesitated, but decided to go through with the entire story. “I was complicit in a regicide, having poisoned the King of Brunei’s drink for a healthy sum. The autopsy reports are out, I have been in hiding ever since I stepped off the flight, and I have no clue how you managed to get this number.” A couple of deep breaths later, she continued further. “Every country has issued a statement denying me international immunity, and as soon as I’m found out, I shall probably be hanged, if not murdered by the King’s retinue of vengeance-seeking loyals. Yes, insurance would truly help my husband at this stage,” finished Tanya in a harrowed voice.

The executive realized he was wet. Sweating all over. Forehead, palms, armpits, groin, all the places where the sweat glands offer their fealty rather too generously. “I shall call you back in a moment, ma’am. I have some urgent business to attend to,” he managed to blurt before jamming the receiver back into its cradle.

“Hey! At least sell me a policy before you go,” screamed Tanya, howling with laughter, as the Bruneian head of state fondled her breast, the gleam of gold in his eyes.

It's Called Civil Humiliation

The new Star Voice of India 2 started airing on Star Plus this Friday (18th July) onwards. For the past month or so, the promos had been boasting of featuring participants from all 24 Indian states. It was unnerving for me to realize that the number of states in India had shrunk to 24 without so much as giving me a perfunctory warning. I had been trying to work it out mentally which states had been deemed unimportant enough to be left out of the competition - would it be based on economic considerations, geographical placement, political considerations, size, population or some other factors - none of which seemed to be valid enough for me.

The clouds of mystery cleared when the first episode was aired and the bright sun burned the very vestiges of respect I might have had left for TV producers. The 7 northeastern states were being referred to under one name - the seven sister states. While the other participants were from Bihar, Maharashtra, Delhi, Andhra Pradesh, Jammu and Kashmir, those participants were from the 'seven sister states'.

Why the alienation, why the blanket nomenclature, why deny them their individual identity and a spot each for themselves? Why must they be clubbed together under one banner of location, culture and heritage while every other state gets full leverage? Isn't it this cavalier attitude and insensitive treatment of the north-east that has led us to this day when they demand their basic rights, and are treated as foreigners in their own land.

My sister's just started going to college in the Delhi University. For years, I have read reports of female students from these states being treated as 'easy meat' and being molested on buses, on the roads and being a general target of ridicule. During the ragging days, most attempts are directed towards them and my sister has confirmed these facts first-hand. They are forced to speak in Hindi, made fun of and generally not accepted as one of our own.

It hurts. The low level of understanding and innate prejudices in young students still in their teens, the blatant publicity and corporate undermining of sections of the population for... for what? I would still understand, not agree but still understand if they were to make financial gains from such a gesture - but how would acknowledging seven states with their real names have affected their capitalistic aims is utterly beyond me.

Off To The Past

The new session at IITK begins in a week. I've been out of the place for nearly three months now, and it still feels strange that I won't be going back to it. I already miss the energy, the excitement of the new academic year, the expectant faces of the newly admitted students, the assured walk of the seniors, the smiles at meeting friends after three long months, the chaos, the noises, the warm hugs, the formal handshakes, new hostels every year, classes, new courses, the plans of starting fresh and studying this time around - I miss all of it.

I gave four very important years of my life to IITK, and although initially I was unhappy and dissatisfied, I came to learn to like it, and now, IITK defines a major part of my identity. It has given me more than I could have imagined, or hoped for and for that, I shall be eternally indebted to the institute. I wish to go back there, for the freedom that it provided me, to pursue any and everything that I liked. I want to roam around on the impeccable campus roads in the evening when the faculty kids come out to play, past midnight when it is all quiet and breezy, in the sultry afternoons when the walk became more purposeful.

Yet, going back would mean giving up on a lot of new things that await me. More importantly, it doesn't seem worth it to go back to a campus devoid of the people who made it worth every moment. No friends to go to, to talk with, to crib to or fight with - how intertwined is the sould of the institute with the people that reside in it. I feel I have lost something if I go to the campus but there are no friends. I feel equally cheated if I go to Mumbai where all my friends are but the campusis far, far away. I have always lived in the past. It is what I am still doing. I want the time in my campus back, the way it was, with the people that were there, when they were there, the way they were there.

Sense and Sensibility

The guy who teaches us Creative Writing wears checkered tweed pants in shades of brown, all the time. They go with his long blond tresses, I'll give you that much. Creative license, eh?

A Mate Date

A hilarious, stomach-achingly funny thing happened today. If the person who this is about reads it, I'm sorry, I shouldn't put this up here since you will be embarrassed but I'm leaving no names, and it's just too good to not put up.

Four of us (two guys and two girls) were sitting in the Subway in CP, talking about sex, what else. So this guy I'm talking about, he tells us how girls who smoke and consequently have bad teeth, are a turn-off for him. To elucidate the intensity of his point, he said:
"When I was in Europe, I was trying to mate with this girl who had really bad teeth... and I couldn't."
Three times we asked him, "You were trying to do what???!!!" and three times he answered it the exact same way, completely oblivious of anything being amiss. Oh, how we laughed (well, one more than the others but we are not taking any names here, remember?). And laughed. And laughed. And died.

Afterthoughts from afterlife:
"Dude! You could nail a girl, have sex with her, bed her and forget her (as the saying goes, not as an ideology, mind you! Well, maybe.), make love to her, violate her or do a million other things, but please leave the mating to dogs and monkeys. Seriously. Please."


Disjointed thought: Guys who wax their arms (and probably shave/wax their legs) freak me out. I like to believe I'm a very open-minded person, yet, this is something hard to digest for me. I can live with manicures and pedicures, but waxing is going too far. Too far. It's just freaky. Call me a sexist, if you will, but I stand by it.

Compassionate Delhi?

Today when most eateries, food joints and restaurants strictly prohibit outside eatables within their premises, it came as a pleasant surprise when I could easily sit on a (plastic, Neelkamal, to be precise) chair in an open restaurant at Bhikaji Cama Place and eat the food my mom packed for me without being asked to leave. I was a little apprehensive initially that they'd ask me to move away even though I had ordered two soft drinks, so I pulled a chair in a corner and sat with my lunch. As for the plastic chairs, to their credit, all the chairs they had were plastic, and the same quality, so no discrimination there either.

What was surprising, and pleasing, was that three different waiters came to me within the duration of 15 minutes that I sat there, offering me a glass of water, while two came and asked me to sit at a proper table for four and eat my meal in peace. I declined their offer for I felt guilty of robbing them of a place for genuine customers, but just the gesture was so endearing. The owners, a Sikh father-son duo, were equally accommodating. It was the best part of my otherwise terrible day.

Wasn't Delhi supposed to be rude and mean and heartless? What happened suddenly? It reaffirms my faith that stereotypes are exaggerated and more often than not, not applicable. Also, there's more good in people than we like to believe. One just has to give them enough time to show it, or give oneself enough time to see it.

Mistaken Identity / Star Power

If you are having a phone conversation and the person at the other end of the line says, "I was talking to Salman a few days ago and he has no plans of coming to India anytime this year," would you ever think that the person being referred to is Salman Rushdie, even if the conversation was in the context of a literary festival? Since when did Rushdie become Salman?

Hilarious

Is this postcolonialism?




Monty Python at work.




Arranged shag?!

Of Alternate, Unintended Meanings

WARNING: Adult content

My short story Kaleidoscope begins like this:

Expanse of green. Sheer silk…white…flowing. A pearl necklace. Pearl earrings.

I gave it to Mat, our instructor at the British Council for some feedback. Apart from some pretty useless comments (e.g. it's a horror poem!?), he marked on the phrase "pearl necklace" (adult content - think before you click) and asked me to look it up on Urban Dictionary, if I dared. Of course, I had to check it out once he'd said as much, though I wished I hadn't. "Pearl earrings" carried a similar meaning. Even though I found it pretty disgusting that instead of telling me something useful, that was what Mat was doing with my piece, but it is also strangely fascinating with respect to the people's imagination!

God of the Gaps

Excellent concept, this. It's always a surprise what all is classified and documented and argued upon. Love Bonhoeffer's argument, irrespective of the fact that I may or may not believe in God:

"...how wrong it is to use God as a stop-gap for the incompleteness of our knowledge. If in fact the frontiers of knowledge are being pushed further and further back (and that is bound to be the case), then God is being pushed back with them, and is therefore continually in retreat. We are to find God in what we know, not in what we don't know. ..." [Source: Wikipedia]

In extension, Argument from Ignorance, somehow very valid in everyday life if we consider ourselves and our limited acceptance of the world, is another well argued concept. Two very common statements being examples of this being:

1. "You can't prove God doesn't exist, so God exists."
2. "You can't prove God does exist, so God doesn't exist."


Darwin's birth must really have been a shitty time for God(s). He undid most of the work they had done over the millenia in just one lifetime. Maybe it was Satan himself, born to spite Him!

The Key to Friendship

From the story Artists and Models in the collection 'Delta of Venus' by Anais Nin:

'... Someone told me the delightful story of a crusader who had put a chastity belt on his wife and left the key in care of his best friend in case of his death. He had barely ridden away a few miles when he saw his friend riding furiously after him, calling out, "You gave me the wrong key!"...'

Gagging Rushdie

On the occasion of Midnight's Children winning the booker of Bookers, BBC has come up with this competition where the entire 672 page saga has to be retold in 67 words - yes, 67 words. Rushdie does have a way with words and language is his forte, but he also tends to overdo it at times. Can you cut out the gibberish and tell us the story of Salim Sinai in 67 meaningful words?

I'm thinking of Amiya right now. She has both the inclination and the talent to do it, and it helps that this book is one of her all time favourites. Go, girl!

The others may try too, of course.

Bound by Boundaries

Over the past couple of years, I've come across the phrase 'blurring of boundaries' a hundred times, with respect to literature (merging of genres, less high brow attitude to high vs low lit, acceptance of literature from various countries and cultures into the literary canon, etc.), films (lesser distinction between art and commercial cinema with the advent of multiplex culture, intertwined genres again, diaspora movies attempting to 'bridge' the gap between the East and the West), nations (globalization, the European Union, internet) etc.

The same is now being said about the sexual preferences of Indians - the LGBT pride parade being heralded as an example of how India, or at least Delhi, Bangalore and Calcutta are 'ready' for a change and are more understanding and accommodating of people with different orientations. The boundaries between the two extremes - male and female - being blurred by transgenders, hijras, et al. Such an open outlook may exist, or may not exist at the moment.

Yet, the boundaries still exist. And some are very difficult to erase. Relationships for example, and their nomenclature. We are so used to fitting every relation neatly into a category under a specific name. When a name does not exist, or multiple options present themselves, it creates problems. To quote from innumerable Hindi movies, what was the relationship between Lord Krishna and Radha. If we keep aside moral issues for a while, for the sake of hypothesis, if a father begets a daughter from his daughter, what relation gets primacy? Is father or grandfather more acceptable. Is mother or sister more prominent a link? How about the man's wife? What relation does she have with the newborn. This is a relatively simple and straightforward example. There exist a million such cases all around us (including the famous Khushwant Singh joke). As long we stick to the boundaries of definitions etched out long, long ago, we will run into problems - increasingly so as the society propels forward at breakneck speed.

Quirky?

I judge people by the kind of footwear they buy and wear. I don't know why I do it but I do, and sadly, most people disappoint me. Horrible, horrible taste in footwear. I've only come across a handful of people who impress me with their choice of colour, design, style and appropriateness for the occasion.

More often than not, it's hard for me to look at people's feet for more than a few seconds, and it's even worse if they are the sort that do not cover the foot completely, showing dry/dirty/unwashed feet with yellowing nails that haven't been cut for a long time. Just completely puts me off.

Do GODS disintegrate?

When I was in school some 5 years ago, GODS - Group of Delhi Superbikers - used to be a huge craze. Haven't heard of them in a while.

Is the group still active, or have the GODS shunned their godliness? And what exactly do they do in the group?

Literally Confused!

I used to be pretty clear on the subject, but I've been confused for the past few days. Can anyone clarify for me the exact difference between pathetic fallacy and personification as literary devices?

And since we are at it, what exactly is a bathetic fall?

Hunky Dory!

I've been seeing advertisements for the relatively new Hero Honda bike 'Hunk' for sometime now, and have also, on some occasions, seen the bike, mostly in red.

While it seems pretty good, look-wise, to me, I really wonder why a guy would buy a bike names Hunk. What guy would want to claim with pride that he rides a hunk?!

High on Haiku

Some attempts by yours truly. My motto is:

We shall invent new forms of pain, and then find ways of inflicting them upon the world.

1.
Dark, damp, humid night;
A drop trickles down the neck.
Red! Equality!

2.
House on fire, flames leap,
Smouldering, scorching, savage.
Intertwined bodies.

The word haiku reminds me of the 90s song 'Hai huku hai huku hai hai...'. :D Makes me want to write a haiku using that.

Can you get any more pathetic than this? Try in the comments section.

Chidiya Choon Choon Karti Hai

Awesome, this! As Amit Varma mentions, some of the best scenes include Jeetendra's sweaty armpits when he sings 'Happy Birthday To Me', and his drunken walk under the 'Gateway Of Necking-Camels'.

It's amazing how many times the 'Chidiya' line is used in the song.

Cricketing Woes

In an ongoing Asia Cup match, Arun Lal in the commentary box, and a wicket is taken. Imagine!

"Bangladesh really needed to pick up a wicket at this point, and (batsman) has been picked up by (bowler). What a breakthrough."

They could have taken part in the LGBT Pride Parade!


From Cricinfo:

Once on a square turner, as Viv Richards faced the last over before tea, Saleem Yousuf kept appealing every ball without a reason. "I was fielding at short-leg," Ramiz Raja recalls, "and when we were walking off for tea, an irritated Viv asked me the Urdu word for chicken, and I told him.

"So Viv rushed off towards Saleem, and when in his earshot, started shouting, 'Murgi, murgi, murgi'."

Man of the Match awards have, for the past so many years, been mindlessly given to the batsman even if he scores a 50 or a 60 over a bowler who takes 3 wickets at a good economy rate. Witnessed this in most of the IPL as well, and the most recent case was in the recent England-New Zealand Natwest series. In one of the matches, Styris scored 80-odd runs as Gillespie and Vettori took three wickets each to take NZ to victory. Vettori, also captaining the side, deserved the award but Styris got it instead. I wish the concerned people would be more open and fair in their approach.

From Alfred Tennyson's 'Maud'

There has fallen a splendid tear
From the passion-flower at the gate.
She is coming, my dove, my dear;
She is coming, my life, my fate;
The red rose cries, 'She is near, she is near;'
And the white rose weeps, 'She is late;'
The larkspur listens, 'I hear, I hear;'
And the lily whispers, 'I wait.


SO cute! :)

Of Taglines And More

* At the Spencer's in Pacific Mall, Kaushambi, noticed a perfume a few days ago:
Cool Girl
For Women
The men are still alive. Mostly single. And desperate.


* At Akshardham Temple, New Delhi, a month ago, on a tourist bus:
Jain Travels
So? So do I. And the Sharmas, Talwars, Singhs, Mallyas, Agrawals etc. etc.


* On the paper towel dispenser in the restroom at the British Council:
Pull
Here
While pulling out a tissue, I vaguely happened to glance at it, and my brain registered the words with the last two alphabets of both the words transposed. What I read was:
Pure
Hell
Does put things in perspective.


* On a wall in East Patel Nagar, New Delhi:
Yahaan par peshaab karna aur poster chhipkaana manaa hai.
Interesting to note that the two have become synonymous. Peeing in front of the walls is as much an advertisement of our culture/sensibilities as putting up awful posters in senseless places is defecating on the walls.


*On a hilly road to Shimla:
Please be gentle on my curves.



- On a different note, saw a book "The Mapmaker's Wife" by Robert Whitaker in the British Council library today. Have also heard of it somewhere sometime earlier. The blurb sounded very interesting. Must read it sometime. Go google.