The good and bad of it

Have been lashing out the pent up frustration this week.

The good of it is that i feel satisfied of not just taking it lying down and letting them know about my own feelings.

The bad of it...i dont feel good anymore.

........

The worst mistake of first contact, made throughout history by individuals on both sides of every new encounter, has been the unfortunate habit of making assumptions. It often proved fatal.

David Brin

Getting back to Self

After doing something completely tangential this weekend, I’ve decided to get back to the original self….

Its much easier being taken for granted and being miss goody shoes than saying I AM UPSET when it’s required. Its much easier being good to the whole world and coming back home and taking out the frustration on family and boyfriend, than telling the world that their actions have such a bearing on me.

It’s just so much easier being the target than targeting the world.

Thami thi uljhan, bairi apna man,
Apna hi hoke sare dard paraye…

SHAME!

I wonder at times how my life would have shaped, had I been brought up in riches- wait a minute….I mean completely ill gotten wealth. If my dad had been a scamster, a crook who thought minting money comprises duping people, duping the country, having no regards for the law, the system, and the judiciary, smuggling, selling fake dreams, creating monopoly through goonda raj and above all having no conscience at all.

I thank god I am not born of Gurukant Desai.

Maybe and just maybe, I could have forgiven a person like him owing to the blood, but not the film director (Mani Ratnam) for justifying every piece of con job that got Guru his much desired wealth. Anybody who has watched the film Guru and not come out completely disgusted by Ratnam’s attempt to redeem and glorify a certain crook of an industrialist needs a humanity check ASAP.

Mani Ratnam could have told a story as it is. I knew Guru was based on Dhirubhai Ambani and I did half expect crimes of sorts in the film. But, in the end to have the gall to justify bribes, smuggling and unlawful attitude only so it would “benefit not just me but many others,” is disgusting.

There would be millions of viewers watching Guru and I dread to think of the impact that it would have on them. That it’s OKAY to bribe and get your way through. It’s OKAY to smuggle in machinery so you can boost your production. It’s OKAY to lie to your investors, as long as you are making then money. It’s OKAY to marry for money, as you have to get married someday. It’s OKAY to challenge the law as the License Raj has done no one good. It’s OKAY to cheat competitors off their money as all is fair in business. It’s OKAY to love money to an extent that your heart is rendered bankrupt.

As far as people going ga ga about Abhishek Bachchan's performance.....to me it doesnt really matter. If a film is not well meaning, to hell with who performs and who doesn't.

The film is a slap for all those who chose the right way to earn their living. IDIOT- is what Mani Ratnam calls them. For according to him “this is THE only way our country can progress from the third world to the first.” A director, whose excellence was unquestionable by my standards, has just dipped himself in muck.

Villager….Visionary….Winner…..BULLSHIT.

Breaking the sequences

It began in 2003 when I failed to attend the third consecutive Jahan-e-Khusrau concert. Ever since it first started in 2001, my friends and I always got ourselves the Rs 200 worth second last row passes. As college students, that’s all that our pocket money could afford. Nevertheless, the experience of soaking to the tunes of Abida Parveen and other Sufi artists from across the globe was divine.

Girls dressed in salwar kameez with adequate silver jewellery and boys in their best kurtas, Jahan-e-Khusrau was the perfect evening to be mesmerised into a bygone epoch. The venue, Humayun’s Tomb was not just a stage where musicians sat and recited their masterpieces, but the remnant of a grand old monument that pulled you into its history and beauty at the same instance.

After the show began, we would slyly creep into the first row and make ourselves inconspicuous to ticket checkers. But to tell you frankly, I don’t think after Abida began singing her verses anyone was worried about who was breaking the queue. Such was the magic of the entire ambience and the chants of Amir Khusro’s lyrics that everyone slipped into a trance, to recover only hours after the next dawn.

When I left Dilli for Mumbai, I had promised myself to be back for the next Jahan-e-Khusrau. February 2003, I was going to be sitting in the second last row and listening to my favourite musician. But as Mumbai would have it being lost in a lifeless world was more of a priority now. The rut of competition and work pressure had taken over the small pleasures in life.
It has been three years ever since I became Okay with chasing a story to just sitting jobless and enjoying myself.

Another sequence broken…..

“Run, Mumbai, Run.” The slogan is enough to keep me running for an entire day. Again 2007 could have been the third year; I’d be running the Mumbai marathon. Matching steps with thousands of Mumbaikars and exhilarate in the moment of the confluence.

The marathon is significant to me, for it’s not just another run. It’s the spirit of Mumbai…not the spirit to rise from the ignominious blasts or the floods, but just the spirit of taking time out for oneself and for other who would benefit from it.
I’ve ran the marathon with two different boyfriends in each, but I’ve retained the same set of friends. (Oh I promise to retain this boyfriend too!!!)
I’ve ran the marathon once in track pants and once in shorts. I’ve written a first person account on it for Mid-Day, woken up to swollen bones the morning after and still reminiscing the thrill of running alongside the ocean. And I’ve also managed to run alongside Salman Khan.
These might be innocuous details, not figuring in anyone’s wishlist….but what the heck? There really ain’t no bigger pleasure than living on these small pleasures.

A good friend would take the responsibility of reminding us to fill up our forms before the deadline and we would wait for his call every December. This December, he didn’t make that call.
So much for small pleasures and sequences.