Holiday speak

What is the correct way of spending holidays? Socially-accepted break-time activities include discovering new destinations, catching up with folks, checking-out financial matters; honing a new skill, pursuing a hobby, soaking tense muscles in scented water at spas, pilgrimage, retail therapy, et al.

I'm back from my annual summer break and did none of the above, at least not to the extent where it warranties a mention. For instance, I did shop but it was not retail therapy nor was it the shop-until-you-drop kind of an endeavour. I did call upon the elderly but it wasn't catching up with my folks. I did pick up the racquet to give my little girl some badminton fun, but it was not pursuing a hobby. I did tend to my sore back but it wasn't at a celebrated spot. I did pass through a couple of new places while looking for addresses of friends but they were not exotic destinations. And yes, I did visit holy places to pray for my family's well-being, but it was not a pilgrimage to note down in my itinerary.

So when I was asked by a few of my acquaintances on my return 'what did you do, where did you go'?, I had no specific reply. My response - ‘nowhere, was at home' - received varied reactions. One elderly couple, in their 50s, laughed out loud, and said ‘how could you have sat at home all the time. We just can’t do that’. Another younger duo, in their 20s, said ‘don’t you get tired of staying at home. You’ve been going to the same home for so many years now start visiting new places’.

I forgive the younger couple. They would know no better. Being just married, understand their eagerness to spend time alone far away from their people.

But can’t understand the older butterflies. Wonder if their laughter would be as loud when their soon-to-be-married son takes his family elsewhere on annual jaunts and not check on them.

Ideal holiday activities are matters of your heart. Do as it says, want to laze around, just do it; want to jet-ski, go ahead. But be generous with floss when speaking to status-obsessed lifestyle mongers. No fear of guilt rides needed because - only warmth breeds guilt!

If looks could kill

A marketing executive who tried his best canvassing me to sign up his company's offer via regular daily e-mails at last turned up at my workplace last week.

A bit cheesed off with his persistence, I kept him waiting for 15 minutes before I went down to greet him. But truth be told, he unnerved me - in a pleasant way. Wow! What an impressive first impression! Should not have kept him waiting.

He waited at the reception in a navy blue suit over a crisp white shirt, an understated tie, spit-polished black shoes, neatly trimmed goatee, gelled hair, a leather laptop case beside. Extended his hands for a firm handshake and I was shaken a wee bit too much, I confess. Resisted my temptation to ask which car he drove. Act professional, I reprimanded myself.

Walking towards the conference room, I felt uncomfortably conscious of the way I carried myself. The 6-footer took upright, measured and straight steps. Shit, my finger nail polish is chipped, I noticed. Adding to my disgust, I also realised that I had a bad hair day. My hand went up to my tresses as if in reflex response and I dropped the pen I held. I bent down to pick it up as he waited for me to complete my action. I should have lowered myself more gracefully. Shucks!

Before I could rue over it longer, my mobile phone rang. Hello? I asked as no name displayed on the screen. A credit card staff from one of the banks...'Yes, that's right. I'm Nisha. Not interested, please," I snapped even before he completed his first sentence and pressed the button hard. By then we had reached the conference room and he was waiting beside me. Holding the door open for him, I fumbled as I now thought of the way I spoke. Should have been more polite to that creep. Shit! What an impression I must have made. I’m just losing this.

My confidence was at its lowest ebb for no rhyme or reason. If only looks could kill! l understood the phrase better. What it kills varies, though, I was to learn soon.

He took his seat and began spreading out his canvassing potions on the table as I sat collecting my nerves to get my speech right. That’s my forte, I patted myself.  After he was done with his introductory act, Mr Executive reclined, crossed his leg over and adjusted his tie.

Lo! In his greediness to trap another client, his hand rushed to the laptop presentation throwing away the tie to the side exposing the gaffe – if it can be called so. His crisp white shirt was fastened with a stainless steel safety pin. The buttonless hole was made to seem wider as it was horizontally clipped together with a mega-size pin as if threading beads apart. Zap! His image nosedived into tiny irrelevant pieces right to the ground under the feet.

So all the jazz and gloss was the idiot’s UNIFORM. Period. Probably would be fined by his company for not complying with the dress code. Can’t he at least have two pairs of shirts or cheaper still learn how to sneak in a safety pin safely beneath the fabric.

Looks do kill – kill the falsetto!

Sri Padmanabhaswamy's treasures

I can hear loud laughs, belly fulls of roars...from an innocuous section of Keralites who believe people from the land of Sri Padmanabhaswamy make good backstabbers. 

People from the north of Kerala have fun at the expense of their sourthern brethern calling them deceitful because they did not spare even God Vishnu. Now with treasures worth billions of rupees being discovered in chambers 20 feet under the ground from the temple premises, it's another ace for the northerners.

For the uninitiated... Sri Padmanabhaswamy temple in the crowded bylanes of the Fort in the capital city of the South Indian state of Kerala is currently in the news for potentially vying for the  being the 'richest temple' in the country. The diety Padmanabhaswamy, a form of Hindu God Vishnu is in the Anananthasayanam posture or in eternal sleep of yognidra at the temple. Apparently, this is the only temple in the world where God Vishnu is lying down. A reason why north Keralities accuse southerners of knocking down even the powerful Lord Vishnu!

If legends are to be believed the treasures got accumulated in the temple because in olden days people offered gold to seek pardon from the royal family, which controlled the temple prior to 1947. After India achieved independence from Britain in 1947, a trust managed by descendants of the Travancore royal family has been managing the temple.

So are these precious stones and gold lying there since the 18th century? Or does it involve new-generation sinners' ablutions, too. Historians get your CVs ready.

And if they prove it does, then Sri Padmanabhaswamy will need to save himself. God's own country loves controversies in the name of righteousness. A religious matter and the news value soars up even more as politicians as well as the public consider it their moral duty to take the issue in their hands and wash it on roads.

IIFA showcases another great Indian divide on global stage

Indians cry hoarse when Hollywood directors show our slums. They are damaging India's image; it's in bad taste; this is not the real India...Headlines scream out, channels pan out and film critics mince no words.

Then what do we do about it? Watch those movies, shout for sometime and move on until someone else comes along. But, of late, as our actors are crossing over more frequently than before, we take heart and say, 'yes, we have arrived'! IIFA also seems to announce the same and further sooth the Indian ego.

Set up in 2000, it has been globe-trotting with an entire galaxy of glitterati  - from mega stars and super stars to the just-arrived starlets and the outdated and near-expiry ones to showcase what it claims 'Indian' films to world audience. Kudos to the academy for naming the awards aptly - The International Indian Film Academy Awards!

The IIFA act raises two pertinent questions - do we feel hurt or insulted when foreign directors show the poor shades of India or is it an inferiority complex in us, trying to compare ourselves to Hollywood? Else why should only the Bollywood glitz be presented to the world.

Bollywood may be the face of Indian cinema but it definitely does not represent Indian cinema at large. There are hoardes of excellent films being made across the country each year, not to forget the versatile actors in other languages.

When India has no dearth of talent, why showcase only Hindi movies and Bollywood actors? It's time IIFA presents the real mosaic of country's film fraternity if the academy needs to be true to its name.

But that will take a lot of courage because old habits die hard. If the Bollywood bandwagon aka IIFA brainstormers care to change themselves they can begin by taking the most obvious cue out from their dream land. There are no mega stars and super stars in Hollywood. Only actors or artists. Think of what India would be sans stars!

Aping can be done either clumsily or with elan. If the 'Bollywood Oscar Academy' believes only Bollywood glittereti can be compared to Hollywood sheen, so be it. Let the Kapoors and Bachchans and Khans endorse a few regional picks and let the world see the true dimensions and reach of the true Indian cinema. And to begin with stop referring to regional films as the 'poorer cousins of Bollywood'.

Sadly, IIFA is putting yet another great Indian divide on the global stage - 'The glitz divide'! As if we didn't have enough already. Beginning with the Aryan-Dravidian divide; the urban-rural divide; the north-south divide, the rich-poor divide...the list only seems to get longer as the nation progresses. Little wonder foreigners film our country and describe it to their whim and fly out with impunity.

Pippa Middleton's bum chums

Check your IQ guys. It needs some urgent rebooting. World matters have  taken a jaw-dive in the last two months. 

You may be excused for not knowing where the hell is the United Kingdom.  But you sure face gallows of shame if you do not know where Pippa  Middleton's asset lies.

Pippa went on a diet; Pippa does pilates four days a week; Pippa has broken up with long-time flame; Pippa hugged former colleague goodnight at 2am; Pippa looked soiled but ravishing in shorts after the marathon; Pippa hired £10,000-an-hour chopper to jet into a charity show; Pippa's moving base to Paris...the list is never-ending. 

The au courant world media seems to be boldly competing with one another in pom-poming the royal kin's activities as if their coverage will dare her to bare it all.

Well, the male folk have always been bum chums. Nothing surprising there. Jennifer Lopez was gazed at more than watched or heard. Then came Kim Kardashian with hers. When JLo and KK were peacefully holding the testesterone-flowing men to a deuce, in walked the Prince holding Kate on April 29.

And since that day the world seems to be unsettled. Not because the future king decided to settle down, rather his sis-in-law's 'that' dress which has stirred up minds beyond imaginations can fathom.

What's baffling is her derriere has made the fairer sex weaker in their knees as much as it has sent pulses soaring among the beefed-up lot. In fact the ages-old unwritten fact - women can't stand their ilk - is in the process of being revised. The Princess's sister has achieved the unthinkable! She is uniting her sex. And to say her pilate-sculptured backside is doing the trick is no doubt wacky but a wee bit dr...yly (oops!) tacky.

I googled for more anatomical analysis and the statistics revealed was least surprising. Guess this is how laymen draw strength to tackle the daily challenge of getting off their arses to go about and earn a living.

PS: The latest news doing the rounds...Britons queue up to get their plastic arses to match Pippa's arse. LIMITS!!!

When did Baba Ramdev change from saffron robes to salwar kameez?

A maverick yoga guru who churns his stomach in public to attract followers who only dream of getting a glimpse of the ground underneath their belly tried (or rather is trying) his hand at calling the shots to 'cleanse' Hindustan.

I wish he gave it up now as the issue has anyway snowballed and has gone beyond his control. Instead, he can use his discarded dhothi to his advantage - the robes he shed in a desperate attempt to evade arrest.

He apparently disguised as a woman and crouched amid females in the massive pandal before he was discovered and chauffeured into a chopper and chased outside the borders of the capital.

Now that would have been the longest of asanas he would have ever done. Hope he breathed out after the jump. For he sure looked tired and worn out on his arrival in Haridwar early next morning. And surprisingly in a white salwar kameez!

While the whole nation - from politicians and social activists to Bollywood stars and the aam janta - have condemned the way his followers were fumigated and expressed shock over how and why he was was air-lifted, I'm interested in when he changed.

Forget his ideals... there are enough and more people discussing that at present all over the SubContinent. Where did he shed his saffron robe? A woman has come forward to say she helped her guru escape by giving him her clothes.

Now, if the strength of his followers is any testimony then it will sure be auctioned for a million dollars. And he can display the amount in cash in another pandal to prove his integrity and teach those who have stashed away theirs in foreign banks as to how to do it!

Well, the truth be said...he has, indeed, stirred up such a storm in secular India that the nation's very democratic status is being questioned.

While the anti-corruption points he raised are valid and needs to be tackled at the earliest, his adamance on ignoring the practicality of their implementation raises questions of his very intention about raising the topic.

Again why such pompous a demonstration? Even Anna Hazare stayed hungry for several days. He not only steered clear of controversy but also has set the system into motion to achieve the changes he's been fighting for.

But the political guru seems to be the better pied piper. Simply because his magic flute seems to be louder as it has reached a wider cross-section of people.

So what if the government is in trouble or if more public money will be wasted with another Parliament session debating nothing else but shouting ba ba ba. Or should it even matter if he has given rise to a volatile and unhealthy practice of individuals holding the nation to ransom!

They have both helped laymen wake up from their conscious slumber.

So who's the better anti-corruption leader? Anna Hazare or Baba Ramdev.

Guess Shobha De has the last word. She tweeted..."Asking netas: Baba Ramdev or Anna Hazare. Who's the real leader, is like that old debate: Sush or Ash, who's the real pageant winner? Pointless!"

Try licking fingers in a 5-star hotel

Over the weekend I went out for dinner with a few of my Indian friends. Apart from the fab menu and an even more hip ambience there were spoons, forks and knives, too. And my gourmet tolerance took a ride.

With all due respect and love to my SubContinent brethren, I dedicate this piece to you all.

This is my nth experience when domestic talk and holiday plans switched over to Geneva and Las Vegas once inside a 5-star environment. Wonder why. After all we are there to eat. And eat by chewing and tearing using the same set of yellowish, cavity-filled molars and tea-stained canines.

It doesn't matter if you are hanging out with childhood friends who've seen you in chaddis, I'm convinced beyond the realm of questioning that once you are holding a fork and a knife to spoon your hunger, you only  talk stocks and conferences.

Invariably, the conversation shifts from school fees and hypertension to suits and tuxedos of husbands.

Yes. It is women, who love announcing their self-conferred status. So what if the hubbies haven't seen the inside of a Taj or a Oberoi or Emirates Palace even - they have been on virtual trips to Copenhagen definitely. The once-in-a-blue-moon meeting with a superior becomes "Oh! my husband is always attending conferences around the world...", accompanied with a drawling demonstrative sigh, as if they get to do the act even only up mid-air!

The best part is these are the same local sleuths who love licking their fingers schchum, schchum, schchum, when others around are busy manipulating the innocent weapons in hand. Or whose spaghetti gets sucked in deep down their oesophagus threatening to take the fork inside as well.

Shut your mouths, idiots!

The simple act of closing the mouth will not only ensure you bite that pasta at the desired end but also help you balance the fork between the left fingers, too. Not to mention, it would be a great relief to the men folk (those mamma's men who are pot-bellied, blurping and ****ing) who could take care of their sound effects - and save the others on the table from the eeew, eeew and icky factor.

Why do Indian men make terrible eaters? If they bite into an apple then the juice gets sprayed out like coloured water from toy guns of kids; when they drink tea, it is akin to starting a bike and if it's coffee (especially a freshly brewed cuppa) then God save you from a vehicle without a silencer. Even the mundane daal-chawal and roti is eaten with a vengence in the name of relishing. The ceremony of each bite involves tearing a big portion of roti, folding it and scooping in the daal all the while the tougue hanging out like man's faithful friend until ultimately the five fingers carry the catch of the day to place it hurriedly amid the gluey mucilage with a shruuuum...