Peception & belief!

Bollywood movie 'Shamitabh' may or may not have affected careers of the film's cast and crew. But it definitely has affected some perceptions I had of my career.

A few that I held close with fear I have discarded with a determination never to let it haunt me. And one belief that I had silently nurtured, I hold on to with all vigour!

The below screenshots of my blogposts are self explanatory.

The 1st picture below is a screen shot of my review on Amitabh Bachchan's FB page exactly one week after he posted it. Humbled to see the number of likes, shares and comments. 

This 2nd picture below is a screenshot of Big B's FB page post that I shared on my wall. Received 'congratulatory' comments and likes from 'my' friends. 

This 3rd picture below is the screenshot of the original blogpost I had shared on my Facebook page well before Big B chose to feature it. More than a week later, it still awaits its first reader.

In gratitude always. Thanks to the Divine, I will continue doing what I love.

Shamitabh - will be celebrated

An intelligently crafted film - the ultimate ode to Big B! It’s a critic’s feast. A novel idea wrapped with filmdom obsession, which is technically sound, well-orchestrated and superbly enacted.

Well, the director-writer could have busted the ego of his protagonists quicker to save viewers from the drag in between. That could have possibly helped reviewers stretch the colour a little across the three stars, too. But what the heck? It’s ego that the director is trying to quell. Does it die in one hack.

Raters seem lost on rungs to grade the movie. They aren’t quite sure how to rate a creation that neither came with a promise to challenge the 100crore club nor falls under the starry Bolly-entertainer and yet flaunting the biggest star.

So unlike librarians who place a book under the ‘general’ category when they can’t identify the genre, critics for want of an acceptable code, is all over the place.

And so 'Shamitabh' has become nothing but Balki's obsession with Amitabh Bachchan… why do we need to hear the baritone bass and Big B’s history in Bollywood after all these decades… is the technology for real…over two-and-a-half hours of ego ride…to a debutante’s attempt to act and who’s that guy, ah! Danush, good…

E...shed it guys, let go. Give credit to the man who dares to be different in an industry that runs with the crowd and sings chorus. We are used to pulling up and sticking out those who perform differently.

In this case, it's the expectation of novelty from the creator of ‘Paa’ and ‘Cheeni Kum’ that's weighing the movie down.

At least give it to the actors. Danush's performance is electric, not to mention Bachchan at his superb best. Newcomer Akshara comes across as Papa’s daughter. Hope the fraternity gives her the space to grow. Okay, I learnt that dialogue delivery is genetic, as well.

This is one movie that will be celebrated only after Amitabh Bachchan gives his last shot – which future generations will refer to when Big B is studied!

To parents, with love!

Why don’t some parents treat their adult children as ADULTS?

The more old they grow the more paranoid they become on how their adult children conduct themselves and fare in life.

Are you saving enough? When is the last you invested in property? The interest rates are slipping…our neighbour’s son bought an apartment there, that aunt’s daughter is building a house in the suburbs, your cousin owns three 4-wheelers... It’s a crore for a medical seat…what extra coaching are you providing your kids...times have changed...

I belong to the ‘puppy generation’ for whom compromising to see parents happy is second nature. Somewhere in the growing up years, we mistook respect for obedience just as our parents mistook possessiveness for love. They loved us, so they decided for us. And because we respected them we obeyed. And yes, we were ‘cultured’ so we never disputed. As if bottled specimens!      

The puppies are ever in gratitude that they are given the opportunity to walk this land…but they would love to chew at the proverbial leash!

It’s got nothing to do with love. It’s pure, simple respect and the right to live. If we decide to choose our partner, it's new love, not old love lost. If we let our kids decide with whom they hang out with, it’s not rubbishing the culture you taught us, rather it’s respecting our kids. If we decide to invest in someplace away from home, it’s not tough love, it’s our freedom. If we ignore hung-up kin, it's not insolence rather self-respect...

Understood some seniors' love and fear for their children. They would definitely not want the hardships they endured to replay. Salutes for the affection! Allow the youngsters to repay.

Chill. Relax. Your kids are grown up to take care of themselves and you, too. Just let go and enjoy doing all that you didn’t have time and funds for. You all deserve it - a life where you just put your feet up and smell the roses. 

If you believe in your upbringing, trust your children to fare well in life. And if you haven’t, sorry, it’s late to make an attempt!! And it's absolutely fine.

What worries me is some of the puppy generation refuse to see they are still inside the bottle. 

My daughter one day returned from school with a packet stapled across. She dutifully handed over the package to me saying, ‘Megha’s mom asked me to give this to you and not to open it.”

Little did she realise it was the book 'Divergent', which she had given her classmate to read. The book was returned because the child’s mom found it ‘atrocious - a book unfit for 12-year olds’!  

While my girl is still lost as to why the book was returned thus, I pitied her classmate’s mother.

Gen Next are no puppies woman! Breathe out!

*****

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The year I lost my height and weight

To all Non-Resident Indians, with love!

The year I lost my height and weight

Into 2015… here I resurrect!

Happy New Year to all my readers!

I’ve had a fabulous 2014. It was the year I lost my height and helluva weight!

I was known as ‘that tall, lean girl with long hair’ – right from my primary school until I was married, when my man said, ‘You are just of average height’. When I took offence to the ‘just’ in his comment, he simply tucked me under his armpit. I still refused to see the point!

Soon, my scalp was tucking at me, too. So was the unruly cellulite crawling across my waist...and I still refused to see the point!

Now that my girl has stared throwing her arms around my shoulders I have begun seeing the point. But every attempt of mine to convince her I am still of 'decent' height is only laughed at as just another tall tale.

Though I am made shorter against my best intentions, the struggle with my weight was much calculated.

It all began in early-2013 and culminated last year, when I - the self-confessed private person and publicly acknowledged introvert - thought I needed help for housekeeping. So from life coaches and spiritual leaders to NLP practioners and yogis to even friends… I shamelessly exposed my raw self. I let each one of them rummage through my mind and heart, in the hope they will sweep me clean. I was at my vulnerable worst. I let myself be surrounded by dozens of self-help books, CDs and a bunch of people who advised and instructed on what was best for me.

Though none of them helped me find the sanity I sought, I don't regret having associated with any of them as it was a journey that helped me discover myself.

Today, I sit more wise, and far more lighter with a house well-kept and my universe clear of the clutter.

The lessons I learnt...

Never open your heart to anyone before checking if he/she DESERVES to hear your story. Don’t mistake their expertise or closeness to you. Not all who claim to have a solution for your sort of problem or all your buddies deserve to see you nude.

Never seek value and worth from ANYONE [neither from friends/foes nor family/strangers nor colleagues/bosses]. Value yourself.

Shut out all people and situations that put you in the underdog or make you uncomfortable. No matter who they are or what they may be. And see your universe bloom.

Last but not the least, always be thankful, especially to those who hurt you!

I thank all those who aided in my self-discovery...

Special Thanks to Ssrija and a BIG Thank You to my lovely parents and all those who say I touch their hearts!

To all elitist Indians, I say RIP

This morning I read of an American and German family that held a candle light vigil at the beach in honour of a US teacher who was murdered in a shopping mall last week. What moved me was that both the families didn’t know the deceased personally.

I’ve had a few deaths in my family, too, recently, which moved me for reasons that make me angry. When one of my middle-aged cousins died, an elderly aunt was heard telling his widow, who was sitting beside the body of her husband, “Good, he’s gone. Now you can live your life peacefully!” Another family member wanted no post-funeral rituals for him.Why not? 

He’s got a teenage kid with an impressionable mind, you dorks! I wish to scream.

Any thought for the youngster? The young widow?  Yes, he was an alcoholic. But he was not an abusive husband or father. Isn’t there something called sensitivity?

A kind word, if not about his wasted adult life, at least about his early days. His more productive younger days, would have helped his son remember his dad better and would have redeemed his soul, too.

But that’s my community.

More recently, I lost my paternal aunt. The funeral and rituals were executed to the fault, with social media mourning, too. All the elitists showed up in strength because she apparently lived a full life as society deems right.

However, her adult daughter is now allegedly showing signs of distress. Wouldn’t her guilt and pain been less had she spoken her heart out at the post-funeral rituals, recalling the good memories with the old lady?

But that’s my community.

Years earlier, in the 1990s, when my maternal uncle passed away all and sundry only spoke of his alleged marital discord. Not a word about the two-year-old in his widow’s arms. Not a word about his aged parents who watched their only son lay dead before them. To think of all that bad mouthing during that mourning period, makes me shudder to this day.

This is not about my family. Rather it’s the Indian-ness.

A few good words about the departed soul told loud and clear for as many people as possibly could hear will help all those affected by the passing away of an individual.

But the best people do is huddle in groups and sigh ‘Oh! sad!’;  ‘She or He was a nice person!’ And if the person was bed-ridden, then a public sigh – ‘Glad the suffering has ended!’

And then prepare for a status show of spreading an elaborate feast in the name of post-funeral rituals.

Words matter. Words soothe. Words heal.

I like the western concept of a memorial service for the departed for this particular reason. The dead are celebrated. They are remembered for their best – no matter how rotten a life they may have led. It makes the family feel good. Those who gather leave with satisfied hearts.

In my community, people who gather leave with satisfied stomachs.

The concept of a memorial service is not popular yet. And in my community, it’s embarrassing to even consider any show of public emotions. But a show of elitism is befitting.

I will be ostracized for even suggesting this. Nevertheless. If it’s okay to savour burgers and pizzas along with our earthen curries, and if it’s absolutely okay to dream of sending our kids abroad, why not ape the memorial service to eulogize the dead and uplift those affected?

It would offer the surviving an opportunity to wash away their guilt and any wrong thoughts and acts they may have exchanged or engaged with the deceased by recalling the best times they spent together or by simply acknowledging the best traits of the person that is no more. Rather than huddling to gossip and gathering to eat.

Well, strangers who mourned a slain teacher reminded me that my community, too, have moved with the times and have adopted an emotionless expression. RIP, we key in now!

To my community I plead, RIP it up – that elitism!


To all Non-Resident Indians, with love!