A Celebration of Love

So, I saw Sex and the City (the movie) yesterday (first day, third show :)
And absolutely luurrrrrrrrrvvvvvvved it.
It is just so beautiful, so sweet, so poignant, so "love"!!
That is the only way to describe the movie- its all about LOVE - all-encompassing, forgiving, generous, sorry, painful, difficult, beautiful, emotional, hopeful, endearing- its love, love, love :)
(Yes, that's the sappy grin on my face that still has not gone 24 hours after seeing the movie :)

Its about "happily ever after" and more importantly, about believing in happily ever after. Its about having dreams of love, and getting there, albeit with innumerable trials, tribulations and triumphs.
It brings a whole new meaning to "Love conquers all" :)
(yup, goofy grin again).

I know- I am a hopelessly sappy romantic mushy stars in the eyes happily ever after believer- so obviously I totally related to the movie (just as I have always been in love with the TV series).
Its definitely a must see for all diehard romantics- simply because you believe in love, and even more if you like "the girls".
(goofy grin with stars in my eyes- I have no idea how to emoticon that).

The girls have grown older, have mellowed, maybe wiser- yet they are all quintessentially the same, with the same quest for true love. And they find it- be it within themselves or outside.
It is this patchwork quilt of life, with its unbearable pain knitted in with its hilarious moments, its grief and anger, its learning to forgive, its pure joy, its guilt, and self-doubt and questions and finding answers and looking forward...

Looking forward, and looking beyond- beyond labels (on both clothes and people), beyond names, beyond self, beyond ego... and even beyond love...

So, taking a quote from the movie... "Get Carried Away"
:)

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Clothes don't make a Woman

Or do they?
I've been branded a ganwar dehatan this weekend. Simply because I chose to wear a (Indian) suit.
And because I cooked (for the people who branded me a dehatan!!)

I sometimes wonder at this Indian prejudice (especially in the US)- the minute they meet another Indian in a non-western dress, she is pretty much an illiterate housewife.
So, I met some people for the first time, who came to a party of sorts at my place. I was wearing a suit (which, by the way, was a simple cotton, but very nice). As I opened the door for these (new) people, they took one look at me- and after that, all of them addressed me in shudh hindi.

They did not even ask me if I was studying here (everybody in the party was/is in various stages of their Ph.D., and so am I) but assumed that I was just an English-challenged housewife who's main goal in life is to cook and clean for all the other Ph.D.'s!!!

I was wondering quite a bit about this- just because I chose to cook for a bunch of people, I become a housewife (yes, with all derogatory connotations possible). Is cooking so uncool? Why do Indians look down upon it- why is it associated with "not being modern"?

So because I wear suits and cook, I am labeled, branded and slotted- all in the blinking of an eye. It does not matter that I probably do have better English than the rest of them put together. Or that I worked tirelessly so that I could make good food for all of them. And was so tired after it all that I could not go out drinking with them- I did not (because I was really tired after a day spent cooking and cleaning, for 7-9 people, but in their eyes, what in the world would a dowdy housewife do in a pub?)

Why? Why do Indians need to show off all the time? And then consider themselves superior to people who don't?
Why doesn't being a nice person count?

P.S.- I don't even wear a kilo of kaajal- which is the basic prerequisite for being a modern Indian woman in the US.

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Forever Love

Yesterday was my first wedding anniversary... hard to believe, but it has been one year :)
Here's my husband's anniversary card to me-


Just a reaffirmation of why I love this guy so much ;)

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Hum bhi Modern hain

I think I want to write, to write about the new India, as seen through the eyes of an architect. I will not go into Indian politics, religion, caste, history, (post)-coloniality, sociology or historiography- any of the myriad things that people associate with India (I won’t even talk about the snake-charmers and elephants!). This is a biased, subjective and prejudiced perspective, of an Indian (though what that means is also not sure) architect (again, what does that mean).

Let’s call it the viewpoint of an onlooker, observing changes in the Indian urban landscape. Interestingly, I have reviewed three different types of building typologies, emerging in the globalized modern India, and have found that each is but a manifestation of the same process, a new avatar, a new face, a new body, but the same thing. What do we call this multi-headed hydra? Globalization? Americanization? Consumption? Liberalization? Greed?

The first was the shopping mall- yes; I’ve reviewed them so thoroughly that I can recite facts about Indian shopping malls in my sleep. I’ve written papers (okay, just one) on them. And I see the grasp of consumerism slowly expand its tentacles to get a hold inside the minds of the population. How consumerism has become the mark of status and existence. How where you shop is more important than what you buy and how you use it. How being in the mall makes you modern. The mall stocks western goods and commodities, which are bought by the new breed of Indian ‘transnationals’. The class that is transnational because they have been to that mysterious place that makes one more than human: abroad. The glitz, glass and chrome all shimmer invitingly. Yet, am I being too cynical? Is the mall really a sign of modernity?

Let’s talk about the second type of modern building- the ‘commercial’ office complexes. The glass palaces of the software czars. The modern edifices dedicated to outsourcing. The huge information technology parks. Which are redefining modern for the people who work there. Indeed, this is where the ‘transnational’ class is created and this ‘transnational’ place is where it works. So, does being a software engineer working in one of these enormously attractive buildings make you modern? It is a bit of the West supplanted in the Indian city. It is an offshoot of a western company. By extension, the westernity rubs off on the inhabitants?

Talking of inhabitants, I want to come to the final resting place: the home. A home in one of the most exclusive, entry-by-invitation, community of ‘like-minded’ people. The new gated community. That promises round-the-clock electricity, water, cleanliness, air-conditioning, clubs, roads and gymnasiums. It promises isolation- from the filth and squalor that is India. . Most importantly, it promises ‘abroad’- a piece of the world in India? Something that can be bought at ‘world-class’ prices by ‘world-class’ people. Yes, indeed, the home for transnationals. For it is only by living in such a community that one can preserve being an Indian in India: I am home, but who wants to see its ugly face?

Isn’t this what being modern in India means? What relation does modernity have to a way of thinking, mature self-growth, enlightenment or education? As long as I wear a pair of jeans and shop at the mall, I am modern. This makes me wonder. So one does not stand a chance if one does not live in a gated community, work in a MNC and shop at the mall.

After all, hum bhi ‘modern’ hain!!

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Mud Pie Mojo Moods

Soft, sweet, melting and with the texture of silk..aahhh... ice-cream...
How I love it as it gradually melts on my tongue, soaking in the taste and texture,
chewing on the bits and pieces... sucking on as its tastes linger elusively on my palate...
Aaahh...Ice-cream...

And yet, not any ice-cream. I can only ever have chocolate ice-cream-
I have had ONLY the chocolate flavor for the last fifteen or so years (ever since I realized the pleasures of chocolate and the angst of teenage :)

However, this has rendered me completely incapable of eating any other flavor- I mean, anything else tastes sweet!!!!
For heaven's sake... sweet ice-cream..Ugghh. I just hate the taste of sweet ice-cream- unless it is tinged with the slight bitterness of chocolate, its not ice-cream.

The love affair started with Hot Chocolate Fudge (HCF) from Nirula's, Delhi. I just had to have it every time I visited Delhi. And continued, with HCF from Hot Millions, Chandigarh-here,
I usually had the standard Butterscotch replaced with Chocolate- and extra fudge.
It culminated with the Death by Chocolate- the ultimate chocolate fantasy, but available only at Corner House, Bangalore. Unfortunately, I've visited the city only once in my life.
(only five days of the world's best ice-cream, alas!)

Then I came to the US- and discovered the million or so flavors of chocolate ice-cream.
And also discovered Coldstone.
After a few experiments and trials- I have settled on Mud Pie Mojo.
Its just THE best (and this is coming from a connoisseur of chocolate ice-cream- its even better than the German ChocolateCake, and that is saying something).
It is not chocolate ice-cream, but coffee (obviously not sweet, thank god!).
With swirls of peanut butter and roasted almonds and Oreos and (lots of extra) fudge......
Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...

I think I am going into an orgiastic frenzy here.
(after all, they do say chocolate is a substitute for sex).

With my husband going out of town for a few months,
I think I'm going to have a lot of Mud Pie Mojo.
After all, that's the only Mojo of any kind I'll be getting ;)

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The Wizarding Point of View

When asked why she wanted to do Muggle Studies (as her parents were Muggles), Hermione had answered, "... but it would be fascinating to study them from the wizarding point of view."

That is exactly how I feel in my South Asia courses and classes. I have been taking a lot of South Asia (read India) related courses for the last year. Most of my classmates are either Americans (fascinated by India) or second generation Indians wanting to "study and learn" about India ( I am the only Indian- born and brought up in India in these classes). My reason, of course, was the same as Hermione's- to see India from the outside (so to speak).

There is tremendous amount of research/work done on India, right from the colonial times- both by Indians and non-Indians. And I have realized that the way of looking in from the outside is very different from being inside and experiencing it, growing up in it. I am NOT disassociated with these events. I am attached, and all this is part and parcel of my being Indian. Even of me being me. These are events that have shaped my thoughts, feelings and ideas.

It is often difficult for me to clinically analyze the issues being discussed, simply because I am not a bipartisan bystander. I am involved, things are not like this, you can't be so dispassionate- I feel like screaming.
But I am learning that there is a different point of view. For the people who have done such excellent research and work, have looked at both points of view. At the inside and outside.

Despite my attachment, my ideological motivations and even my inherent prejudices, I am glad that I got to study all this. That I can now see India from the outside.

That I have now seen the wizarding point of view!!

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Happy Holi, All

Hap-Hap-Hap-ppppyyy Holi!

Holi has always been my favorite festival. It means joy, and laughter, and teasing, and flirtation and enthusiasm and excitement and trepidation and anticipation :)

Oh joyous Holi, with its colors and water - and even the eggs and grease and coke - all that we used to throw at everybody else- and get thrown back at us.
I loved the Holi food too- especially the Gunjias and Kaanji (the extremely khatta kali gajar ka ras- if you have not had kaanji, you've missed out on something in life, believe me!)

There are numerous Holi songs, yet the one that captures the spirit and verve- and the one I love most is-

Jo jee mein aaye,
tum aaj karlo,
chaaho jise,
in baahon me bhar lo

Ang se Ang lagaana,
Sajan hamein aise rang lagaana....

Gaalon se ye gaal lagake,
nainon se ye nain milaake,
holi aaj manaana
Sajan hamein aise rang lagaana

(It really captures the spirit of Holi ;)

Unfortunately, its too cold here (its still snowing outside) to play the Indian wet holi style!
But for all of you in good weather, have a colorful blast on Holi.

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When the going gets tough...

How many of you have played this game- of adding a totally inane phrase behind a sentence, quote or even every line one speaks?
In my ragging days (by now, I am sure quite a few of you are wondering about the kind of ragging we had) we often had to append some (usually off-color) phrase when introducing ourselves to our seniors.
A favorite that was given was "in my pink panties". Another- "in my purple pyjamas"

So it went-
My name is XYZ... in my pink panties.
I am from ABC... in my pink panties.
....
I love reading books... in my pink panties.
My favorite hero is Shahrukh Khan... in my pink panties....

(Try doing this in your head in everyday conversation. I am sure you will get some gems :)

However, the first time I came across this game was when I was in Class 6th or whereabouts, at a friend's birthday party. The 'phrase' to be appended was "Under the Carpet".
And everybody had to add it on to some famous quote.

The one that I remember clearly is -

When the going gets tough, the tough get going.... under the carpet.

You see??? So every time I hear this quote "When the going...." my almost Pavlovian response is to add 'under the carpet'.

But it bears repetition-
When the going gets tough, the tough get going.

Was introspecting quite a bit today, and I realized that I had to get both over and through some muddles created in/ by my own mind. The self-made morass I was wallowing in left me precisely there- it is nice fun to wallow in the mud, but I guess it is time to come out and have a wash... in my pink panties :)

Ruminating on this, I fell asleep. And woke up with this quote on my mind and lips...

When the going gets tough, the tough get going!

After all, Picture abhi baaki hai, mere dost!

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Shoe Bite

Contrary to all my New-Year resolutions (this HAD to happen), I am still blogging infrequently. I promised myself that I would blog more, but then it seems that I never have something to say... or too much, in which case mere words can not do justice to my emotions (Oh yes, that is just an excuse for my laziness).

However, this time I am going to talk about something that has been part of my life forever, and has taken up substantial time and energy (and conversation) of mine - my ShoeBites.
(mind you, with a capital B)

Every single shoe that I have ever worn has given me shoebites. Be it a lowly Bata chappal, or some exorbitantly strappy high-heeled stuff- everything results in 4-5 shoebites. So I have lived in perpetual pain in my feet almost all the time. I can still walk miles with my feet killing me, simply because I am so used to doing it.

I have developed a theory around my shoebites- I wear the new shoes for a couple of days- live with the pain- to break them in. Then a few days break- and voila! The next time I wear them, they are relatively painless.

My heels are perenially in various stages of blister formations- burst, about to burst, in conception... Not to mention my toes...and the rest of my feet.
There was a time I used to display the blisters of various colors and sizes to all my friends - since I was so proud of them. Nobody else had such a collection!

Am still suffering as I wore a nice new pair of formal shoes a couple of days back. Have this one horrendous burst blister- which means I can not wear shoes with a back for the time being.

And it reminded me of my long tryst with shoebites all my life.
Is it just me? Or my big, ugly feet?

I guess I am no Cinderella...

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Creativity

This is a poem I wrote in my B.Arch first year ragging period-
we were given this phrase "Mere miyaan ne ande diye"
and told to write a creative piece on it- and be as creative as possible!

This was a regular thing in ragging- we would get some of the most weird phrases-
(I remember, another one was- "Jab mera pair shitpot me fansa)

Ostensibly, to improve our creativity. So this is what I came up with,
and it became quite a legend in the hostel :)
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Mere Miyaan ne Ande Diye

Ik din mai kar rahi thhi, rasoi me kuchh kaam,
tabhi mere miyaan ne bulaya mera naam

phir andar se awaaz aayi kuchh yoon,
kukdoo koon, kukdoo koon

Mai pahunchi to darwaaza band thha,
ye sulook mujhe bilkul na pasand thha,
maine kaha "darwaaza kholo"
awaaz aayi, "abhi kuchh mat bolo"

yeh to koi jawaab na thha,
meri curiosity ka hisaab na thha,
maine utha liya hathauda,
aur usi waqt darwaaze ko toda

jaise hi meri nazar bistar par jhuki,
bas... meri to hansi hi na ruki

Miyaan bole...
Hanste hanste tumhara bura haal hai,
par sach kahoon, ye meri izzat ka sawaal hai

Ye ande maine abhi abhi diye hain,
tumhe na sahi, mujhe to bahut priye hain

Phir unhone Munne ko uske paalne se nikala,
aur uski jagah un andon ko daala,
maine Munne ko apni baahon me sameta,
par unhone to andon ko uske kambal me lapeta...

Ye dekh kar meri bhawhein tan gayi,
mai Kaali ka raudra roop ban gayi,
par unhone meri ek na maani,
kara wohi to man me thaani

kuchh dinon baad andon mein se, aayi kuchh awaaz,
hum daude gaye dekhne, kya thha iska raaz

Wo nazara dekh ke, hamaare ud gaye hosh,
andon me se nikle thhe, do pyaare khargosh

kuchh din huye, is baat ko kissa bane,
par wo dono hamaare parivaar ka hissa bane,

Munne ke saath wo
khelte hain chhupan-chhupai,
aakhir aapas mein,
wo hain to bhai- bhai

Chaahe is baat par, yakeen karna mushkil hai,
Par sach kahooon, jaanwaron ka bhi dil hai...

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Seetharaman Narayanan

I have always been fascinated by this name- Seetharaman Narayanan. I have been using Photoshop for almost 8 years now, and I've been mesmerized by his name.
Photoshop and Seetharaman Narayanan are synonyms for me. There are times when, thinking about something that I'm designing in Photoshop- this name keeps reverberating at the back of my mind.

I always thought it was just me! And then, a few days back, I found this- an interview with the man himself.
And came to know that,
"Back in 2004, a simple comment was posted on the ConceptArt.org forum. It said, “Every time I open up photoshop I am mezmorized by this guy’s name. It’s all I can look at. Don’t know why…” Six pages of “Me, too!” responses followed."

So its the rest of the world as well! And I thought it was only me who kept staring and staring at the name. And that is why I decided to look him up. Here's what he looks like (Or what he's made to look like):

Seetharaman as God.

(P.S.- I like the mustache).

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Lakshman Rekha

Men and women experience urban space differently.

(a universal truth, which I would have thought everybody would have perceived and experienced).

However, at a recent party, we just happened to talk about this- and one guy said- "Is that true? I really don't know. I think this atleast does not happen in India"

DUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Which essentially proves my point- men and women experience urban space differently. AND- that this guy was a thick blockhead with no perception.

Women grow up (especially in India) with an inherent sense of the implicit and perceived danger in open urban spaces. We have all heard incessant warnings about not going out after dark, ever.
We've all had our share of those experiences- be it a groping hand passing by on the street, on the crowded public bus, waiting for the bus at night...
My point being- an inherent caution of public space is built into women, and it comes as a natural part of our perception and experience. I had thought of this as something everybody knew- there is, after all, a lot of press on Eve-teasing, and women's molestation, etc.- especially in India. It is part and parcel of our daily life in India.
More so, because public places are not deemed as "proper" places for respectable Indian women to be seen in. Being in a public place at the wrong time is "asking for it".

New Year's Eve, Mumbai was not an aberration. India is getting unsafer by the day (ToI, sometime this Jan).
Take a look at these guidelines- they would be hilarious, if they were not so saddeningly true. These are rules that are internalized by all Indian women, and have been spelt out only for visitors. YES, this is how we all know we are supposed to behave. These are our Lakshman-Rekhas...

So it irritated me no end when an educated, supposedly well-read Indian said this. Made me angry. Maybe somebody needs to put their blinkers away. This truth will never penetrate his narrow vision, perception and thought. Actually, considering his ways of thinking, he maybe believes women have no need to be in a public place at all! (As you can guess, I am infuriated).

Does this say something about Indian men? If they don't even SEE the problem, how can effective steps be made to solve it???

See here!!!

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Jaam

The most intoxicating song of all time:

Here.

For the first time ever, I have put a song on my blog.
This is one song I used to listen to when I was growing up (that will make you wonder about the kind of songs I listened to ;)
Actually, my Mom was a ghazal fanatic- and so we both used to listen to these Urdu ghazals, and she would explain not only the literal Urdu meaning of the word, but also the deeper meaning of the whole.
I still remember her ghazal diaries- she would sing the ghazal (she has an amazing voice and had trained in classical music) and then explain their meanings to me - and as a budding teenager, with all its incipient heartaches, I would be absorbed in this wonderful world and find a resonance within me!!

So began a lifetime of love for Urdu and Sher-o-shayari. I am a huge Ghalib fan and just love his poetry.
And of course, the Jaam is such an integral part of the ghazal...
Which is the reason for this post.

If you love alcohol/liquor/ sharaab- you just have to listen to this song.
It is the most incredible tribute to sharaab- listen to the tadap and talab for it as you hear the depth of longing for sharaab... in Munni Begum's incomparable voice!
The lyrics are spectacular- every word a joyous celebration of nasha...

A must hear for all alcohol-philes!!

And a fitting start to the 2008 blogging year- with spirit!!!!!

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All-nighter

Kaise meri subah se shaam,
Kya raat hoti hai,
aisa kyun hota hai
kab ye baat hoti hai...

Jaise tapte sone se,
tapta sona milta hai
Aise hi kuchh mera din,
meri raaton mein pighalta hai

Sooraj ki hichkichaati kirnein,
jaise har taraf ki baraf par bikhre hue taare,
kya aasmaan zameen palat gaye,
ya din me phir raat hui?

Kyun tu bhi ai mere dost,
ye padh ke hairaan hai,
meri baaton pe itna gaur na kar
bas... kal mera imtehaan hai :)


Heheeehawhaawhaw...
(I spout random inane poetry at 5:00 AM after a whole night of studying Statistics. Finally, exam over!)

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Picture abhi baaki hai, mere dost

What I love is the simple triteness of Bollywood. And even then managing to make me accept their banal words as a major philosophical truth for my life. Am I so besotted with "the pikchars" that I swallow every over-cliched maxim they choose to throw at me?

And the fact is that yes, I do believe in quite a lot of the most banal things that the movies say. Anything that makes me happy, or sad, or hopeful or angry... or any number of the vast range of emotions I go through when I see a movie I like. Not to mention the wit that surfaces few and far between in our movies.

One of the best one-liners of all times, had come from Mr. Gaikwonde (how many out there remember this classic role essayed to delirious perfection by Anu Kapoor and his dysfunctional telephone)- "Kamaal hai Seema- ye dikhai nahi deta aur ye sunaai nahi deta."

Sridevi in Lamhe "Mai to Kunwarji ko tabse pyaar karti hoon jabse mai paanch saal ki thhi" was a muhtod jawaab to Anita's (I think that was her name, I don't remember for sure), "Mai Kunwarji ko paanch saal se pyaar karti hoon".

Another line that I remember mouthing, to all my friends, was "Someone somewhere is made for you" (read Me!) from DTPH. Oh, I so believed in it (and let me reiterate that I still do- if I could find my soulmate and Mr. Perfect, so I believe the rest of the world can, too).

I guess the next one is an all-time favorite with half the world -"Hum cake khaane ke liye kahin bhi jaa sakte hain", from DCH. This was one movie that was full of a lot of wit (unlike most Hindi movies of the time). The badinage between the three friends was hilariously witty (even at the very serious end- "Perfection ko improve karna mushkil hai"- which is one of my husband's favorite lines- for himself, obviously :)

KANK - "Har shaadi ki buniyaad sirf beinteha mohabbat honi chahiye."
But, well- let me come to the line jo aajkal mere zahan me ghoomti rahti hai-

"Hamaari zindagi me bhi, hamaari filmon ki tarah, end me sab theek hi ho jaata hai"

This may be the tritest clichedest saying in the whole world, but I love it. I believe in it. It gives me hope. It makes me smile. It makes me happy. Om Shanti Om was this amazing incredible witty funny romp which kept me laughing and enjoying every bit of it, but what stuck with me was SRK making his Baatli award acceptance speech- which was one of the most touching scenes in the movie.

And I do choose to adopt this as my current {atleast till the next SRK movie comes along ;)} truth in life, ki hamaari zindagi me bhi, end me sab kuchh theek hi ho jaata hai. Kyunki aisa hi hota hai. Kyunki this is what moves us along. This is the talisman that burns in our hearts and warms us with its presence. This is Hope.

Aur agar theek nahi hua, to ye The End nahi hai...
Picture abhi baaki hai, mere dost..............................

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Karwa Chauth

So I kept the Karwa Chauth- my first ever, obviously.
And it led to this host of questions arising in my mind, and questions about why the questions came (sounds convoluted- believe me, it was even more confused in my mind).

Firstly, I wanted the questions not to come. I wanted to accept totally and with complete faith the institution of the Vrat, and the idea behind it. I wanted to be any one of those millions of Indian women who take it as their unquestioned duty (and privilege- after all, what higher privilege than being married and showing it) to do the Vrat. I wanted that mindlessness, that total faith, that complete acceptance.

In parts of North India (especially the Punjabi belt), the Karwa Chauth is no longer just about the vrat itself. It has been totally commercialized- look at the millions of advertisements in the national print media. It has become the occasion to flaunt your saree, wealth, status- or who got the bigger, better gift from their husbands (Dah-ling, a saree...you can wear it the next time I take you out in the car I got...)

But then- I think Punjabis have a penchant for turning every occasion into a reason to flaunt themselves (considering that I am one, I know ;)

I kept asking myself, why the vrat? Does giving up food and water for one day really make your husband live longer, make him richer and happier (In my case- he would probably be happy if I gave up food forever- considering my weight ;)

Or as the feminist junta is quick to point out- you don't see men doing the same for women (apart from, of course, the two most important men in my life- Shahrukh Khan and my husband (in that order). My better half offered to do the vrat with me- for my longevity and happiness, since he is as much of a feminist as I am. Maybe more- I just sit and crib about the state of Indian women, he says we should do something about it.

However, the presumption here is that most Indian men don't care about their wives living longer, or being happier. I am sure that they do-only they are not expected to keep a strict fast to prove the same.

And yet... I did it. Did I do it because I am Indian? Because I have internalized certain norms of behavior, which I will feel guilty about not following?

Maybe my reasons are the same as everybody else's. I do want to die a suhagan, but mostly because I know, living without him is a pain I cannot bear. Because I would willingly give up the last drop of water if it makes him live longer.

Because it makes me a part of this larger community of Indian women who kept the Karwa Chauth. I was imagining a globe, with Indians in scattered parts- from Kenya to Canada- women all over who did the vrat. Wherever an Indian woman is, the Karwa Chauth is an essential part of her being married. So I kept imagining random dots in sarees waiting for the moon rise. And I was one of those sprinkled dots.

And lastly- because of Kajol and Shahrukh Khan.
Because, to this day, this moment, I can never hear the following lines and not cry. Itne saalon se, isko sun ke aajtak aankhon me paani aata hai

"Tere haath se pee kar paani,
Daasi se ban jaaun Raani"

I just believe in this. Totally. Unquestioned. Completely. Kajol believes in it because she loves him- totally.

It is only love that matters.

"Har shaadi ki buniyaad sirf beinteha mohabbat honi chahiye"

(again, SRK in KANK)

Then, the Karwa Chauth becomes a true prayer. Not because you have to do it, but because you want to. Because its not a tradition, it is a choice.

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In Memoriam, In Sorrow

I am writing this with a grieving heart- not because the sorrow is any less, but because I believe he deserves a great eulogy. I am sure lots of others have been shedding tears about whoever their favorites were (and who died in battle), but my tears haven't stopped. For Dobby.

After reading this, I realize that I was not the only one crying. Yet, we all cried for different people. There is mourning, there is pain, and there is triumph. Oh, much is said and written, yet I feel that Dobby was not mourned enough.
Can grief ever be enough at death? Yet it is essential for our catharsis. Grief is what makes us real, it is our ability to mourn, to remember, to cry- to feel the depths of pain that make us truly human.

I keep remembering the little things. Especially the socks. The patterns of snitches and broomsticks. His lines keep coming back to me-"They is giving you two the same"... "a barmy old codger if we likes"... "your Wheezy"...
Oh Dobby, Dobby......
His utter devotion to Harry. His caring for Winky. His delight at getting Ron's jumper. His big tennis ball eyes looking lovingly at Potter.

He was always such a bechara. So servile. So happy every time Harry so much as smiled at him. So devoted, so faithful, so lovable. And the end..did she have to use the word "supplication". That killed me...
I was worried that she'd kill Harry. I didn't even think about Dobby. Strange-we all so seldom think about the death of people we love most. Maybe, they do live within us.

My only satisfaction comes from the fact that he died in the arms of the person he loved most in the whole world. And that he died saving Harry's life (that would have made him happy).

(only, I still can't stop crying. I had to stop reading for two hours while I cried. But the tears come back again..and again. My words here can not lessen the depth of pain, nor can my tears extinguish the grief).

I have no idea whether house-elves, like wizards, move on. But I hope they do. I hope wherever he is, he's happy.
Dobby, we'll miss you. You'll always be there - dancing happily in your tea-cosy.

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Daaru, Jua aur Aurat: Kkahani Vegas Kii I

Finally a travel chronicle- For the first time ever, this blog features something I did, as opposed to my endless rants on how I feel, how I felt and how I'm going to feel...
Oh, don't go away, the whining and cribbing will be back soon ( I know just HOW much you all out there empathize with me!!!)

We (nope- neither do I suffer from MPD nor am I pregnant {undergrad hostel joke-he he}, just me and my better (definitely-once you get to know us) half (introduced to one and all as TBH- The Better Half, or Tall, Black {actually, he's more on the saanwla side (guess where I picked that from)(also- I'm a gori-chitti Punju racist)} and Handsome (I'm losing track of these brackets within brackets within...oh heck!) ) visited Las Vegas recently. An oasis of sin(?) in the middle of the desert. Quite definitely Paradise Found.

Yes, Vegas is the Garden of Eden, recreated and redefined. It is where everything is legal, permissible, right. Where one sleeps in the morning and goes out at night. As TBH put it- all the rules are inverted in Vegas. This was apparent the minute we entered Nevada- from the border to Vegas, nobody was following the speed limit. The glittering lights, the first view of the Strip, the historic casinos (where poker history was made {TBH is a poker lover (yup, poker meri sauten hai) and so I got to hear it all} made us both go Look! Look! Look! - till a near death swerve got us looking at the road again!!

There is the historic (and old) downtown, where it all started. As the story goes, Vegas started as a place for entertainment and recreation (euphemisms, how I love thee) for the workers of Hoover Dam. A win-win situation for all.

Downtown is festooned with lights, lights everywhere. The most amazing feature is the 1500 feet long arched roof over Fremont Street- which is actually a screen. Its quite awe-inspiring at night as it comes alive with the most psychedelic colors and patterns possible.
To quote U, "Its Diwali everyday in Vegas".

Quite literally. Diwali is also a day for Jua, gambling, in India. And so, it IS Diwali all the time. From every possible card game, to sportsbooks, to racing, to real estate. Gaming Hells have donned a whole new glamorous avataar, they are now Gaming jannats as they are reinvented in the casinos, miles and miles of real estate dedicated to every form of gambling.

Each of the casinos was more glamorous and grander than the next. Bigger, better, showier- it was impossible to comprehend- and its even more difficult to put here in words just HOW grand they were. The architecture was mind-boggling, with Paris and Rome vying for attention next to Monte Carlo and New York. The pyramids were just half a mile away, right next to the beach at Mandalay. Treasure Island was a stone's throw away, right in front of Venice. Ahh! The gondolas. The Bridge of Sighs. St. Marks' Square. Tao.
(the nightclub to end all nightclubs. I felt like Arthur- the people, the lights...the people).

(Look at the sky! Its a huge artificial ceiling- so its always early evening on the piazza. Beyond which are the nightclubs).

TBH played poker, while I lounged around in the fashion of the best of Bond (plunging neckline dresses and sipping sultry martinis seductively {sultry martinis?- oh, well, you get the picture- besides, I love alliteration} babes {now, if only I could buy the body to go with it} (too many brackets again). Or stare at the women. Each more glamorous than the next. The dresses, the shoes, the stilettos... ... the stilettos (there I go again).

I was obsessed with their heels. How did they ALL manage those pointy 6" heels? And here I was, tottering in my 2" itsy-bitsy heeled sandals (I gave up and walked barefoot for the rest of the night). It did take away from the glam doll- hot babe picture I was trying so hard to project, but my feet were killing me.

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Not only is it already morning (and I'm not in Vegas anymore, alas!) but the length of this post is getting to be quite unwieldy. Not to mention boring.
I'll continue the Kkahani in my next post.
(In true Kk fashion, the story is endless).

So you can all wait with bated breath for the next episode!!!!!!! After all, I haven't even touched on the "Aurat" topic I promised in the title. Yes, I fooled you into reading this one..and the next...and...

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Blankety-Blank

Marvin's the clearest thinker I know.

Or maybe

"We apologize for the inconvenience."


Apology NOT accepted, God.

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Tanhaayi

Haan bolo,
tum bhi to lafzon me taraasho..

ki tumhari chubhan, tumhari pyaas,
waisi hi hai jaisi meri...
jo mere man ki khalish hai,
kya uska aks tum me bhi hai

ye jo lafz mere labon par kampkapaate hain
kabhi inka sannaata sunte ho,
Ankahi si hazaar baatein,
kya tumhaare labon par hazaar mauton se milti hain..

kya tum bhi kabhi meri tarah tadapte ho...
kuchh sunne ko taraste ho...
bolo, kabhi to izhaar karo,
ki shayad meri khamoshi ko awaaz mile

Kabhi to tum bhi awaaz do,
haat badhaao, intezaar karo
Dil ki awaaz sun, sab tarqon se pare
kabhi to beinteha pyaar karo...

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