Scarlett-speak

For better or for worse

2012-01-01T11:02:00.000-08:00

Hello my gorgeous followers, how are YOU doin?!
Sigh. This line would’ve been so much more impactful had my list been longer than twenty two members strong.
My first post of the year, so let’s being with a big HAPPY NEW YEAR hug!!

Marriage. That dreaded word nobody sane, my age would want to associate themselves with. Marriage- what several of us believe we can do without. Marriage, that something which is meant to last forever.
This year my parents complete twenty five years of being together, and I was therefore compelled to give a thought to this holy agreement. Recently, I happened to come across some real life experiences that outlined WHY the M-word is as appropriately hyped as it is, in our society.

A couple aged 80 and 92.
With their children married off, this rather elderly couple has built for themselves a haven, a garden in full blossom as though in spring, in the winter of their lives. Thammu (grandmum) as we call her, is Dadu’s best friend, wife, doctor, nurse and mother. One winter afternoon in the rather elderly city of Calcutta, we went visiting them. After half an hour of aadda together, thammu put dadu to bed, and served us lunch. Suddenly we heard him scream! Dad rushed into the room to find dadu lying on the bathroom floor. The erstwhile scientist who went down mines during his younger days while researching about fuels, couldn’t stand for more than two minutes in the washroom. He wasn’t bruised one bit, but his 92 years old ego was hurt. She admonished him for being a baby and slipping on the wet floor, and adorably they bantered in their squeaky old voices on how and why he should not try being too independent.
19 or 90, a lovers tiff is something that stays on. Amen.

Next is another elderly couple aged around seventy.
Here’s a story of extreme sacrifice, and love. Something that inspires films. A perfectly happy Punjabi couple living in Chandigarh, an ordinary life, with nothing exceptional to talk about really. But five years ago, aunty was hit by a speeding car that flung her into the air, and she landed on her head, in the middle of the road. As she lay unconscious, there wasn’t a drop of blood around her. It was a miracle she survived without a scratch on her body! But on further inspection it was discovered that she had lost her memory. 70 years of memory was erased to nothing, with her shocked family painfully resigning to fate.
Today, uncle has changed his prayers from – “please make my wife healthy again” to “please keep me healthy, so I can look after her for as long as she lives”. Aunty recognizes nobody. Not even herself. She believes herself to be two years old. Her own reflection upsets her because she doesn’t understand how she has greyed so much when she’s barely an adolescent. Uncle, who she believes to be her father, bathes her, changes her diapers, and holds her hand tight as he takes it one day at a time, knowing well that there is no hope. He has dedicated his life to attending to and loving a woman who knows him not anymore, and is doing so with absolutely no regrets.

A middle-aged couple in their mid forties.
A beautiful family of four, that smiled, laughed, sang, joked, and laughed even harder along with one another. Despite being terribly busy, along with their two boys, they’d pack their bags for weekend getaways ever so often. The walls of their cheerful home were plastered with beaming family pictures through the years. Until one day, calamity struck. Tragedy of the worst kind imaginable. Their older son, who had only just moved to undergrad college in a different city, met with a road accident. He died on the spot they say. As their world began to fall apart, and their cheery bunch was tragically reduced to three, we knew not how they could possibly rise from the ashes that now surrounded them.
But today, two months later, with much pride I can say- They are indeed on the road to recovery. The husband and wife have stood by each other rock solid. Trying to keep sane they still did things together. They try laughing together, reminiscing the old days, and above all they hold each other and the family tight through the darkest nights, erasing the pain one day at a time, trying hard to fill that void left behind with hope, love and further strengthened family ties. They know their baby will never return, but being the happy bunch that they have always been, they find strength in one another, reconstructing the broken pieces that are likely to take a lifetime to repair.

Marriage, companionship. It’s something to embrace with joy, insurance for when you are old, or when you hit rock bottom. A match made in heaven they call it. Today, I agree whole heartedly.

Good riddance 2011

2011-12-20T02:29:00.000-08:00

When tomorrow comes as it shud,
I know you will not be there for us,
the sun will rise and spread the glow,
hey kid, we aint gonna be low.

-A mourning dad.

It’s that time of the year.

Winters, the holiday season, Christmas, New Years Eve celebrations,counting on your fingertips all the wonderful things that happened to you over the year.

But this year, quite unlike my usual ever-optimistic, silver-lining-seeking self I would like to say – thank God it’s over. Go sc**w yourself 2011.

We read about the world coming to an end in 2012, but 2011 saw the worlds of too many people end. A tech genius, a ghazal singer, a legendary artist, two nonpareil actors from the Indian film industry, an illustrator….. and my brother Varun Roy.

Varun Roy, our baby.

He was a handsome, very bright, young man of 18, who met with a fatal accident in Manipal. A young guitarist with the most beautiful smile, a voice so soothing, a gym toned physique, and a demeanor so charming. Without any warming, just like that, he was torn away from his family and friends.

Satan, who clearly ruled this year, got his due. Enough tears have been shed this year, and some wounds are so deep that no amount of time will heal those wounded hearts. I know nobody who can look back and call 2011 a happy, sunny year, because it was anything but.

So as you depart, you cruel, atrocious, wretched year, just know that you will certainly not be missed.

A handcrafted celebration of colour

2011-10-17T10:37:00.000-07:00

Set in the sixties, a young fashionista, in a classic black dress with elbow-length gloves, hair perfectly tied into an enviable knot complete with a sparkling tiara and very sophisticated black sunglasses, steps out of the cab and walks into Tiffany’s.

“Well, when I get it the only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that'd make me feel like Tiffany's, then - then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name!”

- Holly Golightly, Breakfast at Tiffany’s

… Epic lines from the Hollywood classic starring the very sexy Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly, a charming, vulnerable young girl, who explains to Paul Varjak the sense of quaint delight she found in a visit to the Tiffany’s store.

I had a Holly Golightly-like moment today.

“Vidhi’s”, a store in the upwardly locales of south Delhi is in plain simple terms is a saree shop.

But “plain simple words” is not me! Created by Kotah revivalist Mrs Vidhi Singhania, designer and textile exponent as she prefers to call herself, the store sells you an experience. On display are sarees, the most beautiful and seductive garment, available in a riot of colours, hung across the cozy little showroom. Red, pink, yellows, green, purple, blue, black, gold, silver, earthen browns – name it and the store has it. Each piece gleams with a hint of bling mostly classily subtle and sometimes loud almost as though a celebration of everything that Indian festivities stand for. I frankly know close to nothing about sarees, but the store is a museum displaying art I have never witnessed on the saree, the creation of which I perceived as a rather serious, no nonsense piece of work.

But Here - I was Fascinated.

Women of all ages walked into the showroom, glanced through the masterpieces, entangled themselves into a web of silk and gold thread-work and two hours later, left with a triumphant smile. Each face had a sign of absolute satisfaction, delight and shone with excitement, almost begging for congratulatory handshakes on their alluring new purchases.

These were hand woven textiles that played with a very interesting colour palette, a wedding of colours previously unimaginable. The embroidered prints and weaves were inspired by everything from birds and flowers to fun things like tyre marks and Thai baskets! A showcase of Indian tradition packaged in a chic fashion, with creative detailing, Vidhi’s was indeed a tempting place to be at! Like an excited little girl I ran my fingers along the soft silk fabrics, picking out my favourite, marvelling at the exquisite designs, rich colours, and was completely utterly spellbound at the craftsmanship and dedication, which every piece boasted of.

And suddenly today wasn’t a Monday anymore.

In the famous words of Holly Golightly, once at Vidhi’s store- “nothing very bad could happen to you there.”

My Hero: A swan song.

2011-09-16T05:19:00.000-07:00

When you put on that jersey, the name on the front is more important than the name on the back.

Dravid, nobody has given that line more meaning than you have.

Rahul Dravid, Jammy, The Wall- The man who has captured my imagination for twelve years now. The cricketing legend, the most humble, dedicated and amongst the best looking cricketers our generation has had the privilege of knowing. Rahul Dravid- the first words I typed in the Yahoo search engine when internet was introduced to my household. Rahul Dravid- the man who’s face has adorned my walls for the longest time imaginable. He was the reason Pepsi was the aerated drink that won by loyalty, and it was him who made me fall in love with jam. He is the reason I became an avid cricket fan, and it was for Rahul Dravid that as 10 year old kid, I sat through an entire day of a live test match between India and South Africa in Chinnaswamy stadium, Bangalore.

This post is not about Rahul Dravid the genius, because that’s something everyone knows only too well. It’s about Rahul Dravid- my hero.

As a child I found his email address somewhere on the web, and was in constant contact with “him” for a few months. Yes, I believe that was Dravid, and not an imposter, only because it made me happy. He was born on January 11, 1973, and that date therefore has major significance in my life. Demonstrating grit, modesty, brains, class and complete passion for his game, Rahul Dravid has been a pleasure to watch. "The unsung hero who has never got his share of accolades" they say. I beg to disagree. The man has established a huge fan base consisting of critics, experts, former players, and followers of the game, who have stood up for him, and applauded him at every step in his career. He has earned every ounce of respect coming his way. Stylish, dedicated and an epitome of technical perfection- he is in a league of his own. From Jammy of yesteryears, to the man who has consistently been Mr. Reliable, an Anchor for the frequently sinking Indian cricket ship, to a husband and father, Rahul Dravid is what heroes are made of.

Fitting comfortably into whichever shoes he was given- batsman, wicketkeeper, vice-captain, captain, T20 cricket, and then stripped off from all of these only to be handed them right back to him- he has taken it all in his stride, gentleman style.

And today, after a career spanning fifteen years, and close to 11,000 runs later, it’s time for a curtain call for my Hero, in the shorter format of the game. Today, he plays the final one dayer in India’s disastrous tour of England, his last time donning the blue Indian cap, but there isn’t a hint of remorse in his words. True Dravid style, with perfect timing he decides to close a chapter of his very illustrious career. And as he does that, crazy as it sounds, I feel- sad. For me, it’s the end of an era, the white flag being waved by a warrior- his way of moving on.

I spent 12 years of my life waiting and praying that I could meet him some day. I have worshipped him, fought for him, celebrated him and today I say a brave goodbye.

We Are Like That Only

2011-07-11T04:50:00.000-07:00

Picture this:

I was standing outside a store during the last day of my week long intensive retail therapy session at the mall when suddenly I see easily a hundred people- men, women and children running for their lives from one end of the mall to another. Pushing, jostling, screaming, calling out to one another, falling down while they’re at it, everyone wanting to be ahead of everyone in that mad herd of human beings. Is it a fire you wonder? Or maybe a militant attack? Or Gold bricks being distributed free of cost, as part of IMF Chief Christine Lagarde’s PR campaign in India?

“The answer my friend is blowing in the wind, the answer is blowing the wind.”
(Pardon me for getting musical, but I attended a Bobby Cash performance last night, and country music is all I can think of)

The reason for all that mad commotion was: Mall promotional event of latest Bollywood film, Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara which is due to hit the silver screen this Friday. The lead actors of the film who are also amongst the most sought after stars in tinsel town were at the mall bestowing their worshipping audience with a minute long glance of themselves. There were hordes of people waiting with bated breaths for their stars to shine down upon them, blocking escalators, emptying stores and leaving untouched food in restaurants just for the sake of that one glimpse.
A group of us were sipping coffee at Costa Coffee, discussing the unnecessary hysteria that had engulfed the mall, as we sat far away from the noise in our normal, uninterested in the glam-sham Bollywood world. Until suddenly, we heard the noise and whistles draw closer. The mad mad crowd that was all this while, so far away from us had moved closer, implying that action (read: celebrities) had come closer too.

What do you think we did next?
Yes, that’s right. Like crazy girls we squealed and ran out of the coffee shop, abandoning our food and bags, squeezed in between the crowd, leaned outside the railing of the third floor, and cheered our hearts out! The very handsome Hrithik Roshan was going up the lift, in the same mall as us. How could we not be a part of this madness?! How could we pretend as if that 5 seconds glimpse of the Greek God Roshan was not the most exciting thing to happen to us all month? :P

After all, we are like that only.

Recipe for a happy day: Friday + Drizzles

2011-07-08T00:40:00.000-07:00

"Hello. My name's Forrest, Forrest Gump. You want a chocolate?"- Forrest Gump

You know its the perfect day when:

You wake up and see your best friend on one side, and little sister on the other.
The first song that comes to your head in the morning is- "Ringa Ringa" from Slumdog Millionnaire

Raindrops keep falling on my head!

It rains first thing in the morning, but you still manage to get an auto to work
You walk into office, and see smiling, happy faces. Yes you have guessed it- its Friday!!!
You have films lined up to watch on your hard disk, and a new book to give you company over the weekend
You bumped into friends from so long ago, just the night earlier, at a VERY fun hangout place
You're thinking about splurging on chocolate, desserts, calorie shakes and are anything but guilty!
You have plans to visit the shopping mall fourth day in a row during end of season sales
You enter office and say to yourself: I like my job.
You're bare footed in office because your shoes are drenched (morning rains), but you're still not pissed with the world
The air conditioning is just perfect
You know you're going to Mumbai next weekend!
You're worried you'll start dancing at your work station at the sound of any music!

Films for entertainment

2011-07-05T04:58:00.000-07:00

If my films don't show a profit, I know I'm doing something right.

- Woody Allen

Delhi Belly is a laugh riot of the kinds you haven't watched in a while! Remember the very adorable Vinay Pathak in Bheja Fry with his hilarious simple one-liners, and the innocent "idiot" act where every mannerism had you in splits?

Delhi Belly

Delhi Belly is quite like that. It is an hour and ten minutes of guffaws, grunts and other synonyms of mad-laughter! Cheers to a film that does not need a murder/ romance plot to rope in 95% day one openings at the box office. Delhi Belly is a tale of 3 friends and the series of unfortunate events that follow in their lives after the lead actor Tashi is informed that he's getting married in a month's time. It all begins with his air hostess (rather blonde) fiancee agreeing to deliver a passenger's package to a certain address. What she didn’t know was that the package was pieces of rare, very precious diamonds to be dropped off to a dangerous smuggler. Unfortunately, as luck would have it, the package got exchanged with a stool sample of Tashi's roommate and well, "shit happened".

Here's a mindless comedy that completely gets the niche audience it is meant for by being so simple. Delhi belly has mad characters you can identify with; speaking the language you and I speak every day, but going through the kind of shit we'd rather not try imagining ourselves in. The background score is completely in tune with the film, with Switty Switty playing during a sweet romantic scene between the lead actor and his dusky journo colleague.

Another film I would like to speak of is Anurag Kashyap produced Shaitan that hit the screens about two weeks ago. A gritty narrative of four bratty youngsters living a racy life complete with drugs, alcohol, sex, parties, without being apologetic about it. Life is rather colourful for them as they zip around the maximum city in rich boy KC's yellow Hummer, until one incident changes their lives forever throwing them into a mucky pool of crime and horror, changing their lives forever.

Lights, camera, FUN

Say hello to a league to directors who have the courage to make a film for reasons apart from roping in the moolah. Here are film makers and producers with a strong gut feeling and an understanding of cinema, who bring to the silver screen movies that they themselves would like to watch. This breed of film makers understands music to be not a tool for promotion of the film, to fill in the holes in their script, or to make up for limp acting, but a fantastic accessory to lend more meat to the storyline. Film-makers like these, do not feel the need to rely on star power to generate interest in their films, rather, they have identified the growing size of that niche audience, that is well versed with global cinema and expects similar (high) standards from the Bolly films they go in to watch.
You watch them not to take home a message or a moral. Self-help books do that. Films are meant to be for entertainment. Let’s just leave it at that.

Enchanted.

2011-07-04T06:40:00.000-07:00

What’s your favourite book? - DUH Harry Potter
Your favourite film?- Helloo that would have to be Lord of the Rings
Your dream date- Edward Cullen/ Harry Potter/ Arragon

What’s it about fantasy stories that makes you want to be childishly mesmerized by their heroes?

I watched the Lord of the Rings trilogy over the last four days and am left utterly “spell” bound. The film is based on an epic novel written by philologist and University of Oxford professor J. R. R. Tolkien. It baffles me how brilliantly the author creates an entire fantastical universe complete with kingdoms, magic, species, each of which have a story of their own, weaving them together in a delightful manner, creating a classic masterpiece that has managed to enthrall millions worldwide for a decade and counting. Here’s a drama with ingredients of bravery, good versus evil, friendship, trust, betrayal, equality, love, intelligence, told through the parables of Hobbits, Wizards, Elves, Men and the bad guys.

The final installment of Harry Potter is set to release in barely 2 weeks and the excitement world-over is palpable. That’s right folks, it’s that time of the year when being called a “witch” is actually a cool thing, when you want nothing more than a trip to Hogwarts, sip Butterbeer while chilling with your closest friends at Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, when the most exciting sales this summer would be those at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes or Flourish and Blotts, yes, the thought of splurging in these places totally beats the thrill of an end of season sale at Mango or Zara. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Part 2) will be so much more than a movie. It will mark the end of an era, the moving on of a generation that has spent that last thirteen years waiting to get their hands on to the next edition of this enchanting creation, and counting down weeks to the July 16 weekend to witness the magical series unfold on the big screen.

As I write this, I can hear the theme music of the films, and believe you me, I have goose pimples.

There’s something about books and films like these which have not a fan following, but rather, a generation of worshippers. I am not so bowled over/ attached to these books/ characters/ films because I have a penchant for a well written story. No way! I am completely seduced into this magical world because despite being so unlike the world I live in, there’s so much I take out of them. It’s the same old life story, the very same values and morals are still, very much what we were read out to as young children. Yet, the way they are told. The characters these books create, the universe these authors lead you into.. Regardless of how old you may be, I am sure you would agree that the thought of your eyes sparking with excitement, glazed over by the episodes that unravel in that unreal, fantastical world as you sit in your favourite corner of your house, your nose almost touching the pages of the book, so much that you can breathe in the drama, with your hot cup of coffee to give you company at 2am – is the sort of luxury you cannot wait to enjoy!

Gunned Down

2011-05-03T02:54:00.000-07:00

‎"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."

-Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Osama Bin Laden is dead. The father of terrorism, who caricatured Islam rather cruelly, inciting hatred for the western world through the Al Qaeda-led chilling acts of horror, was gunned down in his bedroom on the first of May 2011 by US forces.

While the USA rejoices on justice finally being done, and pats their backs for finally defeating the mighty Taliban, the rest of us around the world huddle up in fear foreseeing yet another Taliban perpetrated bloodbath. The damage was done a decade ago and getting rid of the symbol of terror does not imply the death of terror. Celebrations and fan-fares are on, but the music is muted. The memories of 9/11, and more recently, 26/11 are still fresh in our minds and Mr. President, I fear your just added fuel to the terror fire.

The conspiracy behind how the most wanted man in the world was captured and its implications will continue for months to come. Yes, killing the man is an A+ in Barack Obama’s otherwise shoddy presidential record, but I fear the safety of my nation.

The symbol of peace, Martin Luther King dared to dream of a world devoid of hatred, and today decades later, I have faith in his words. Hatred only begets hatred, and the series of events that threaten to unfold in the aftermath of this much celebrated murder, is something only time will tell.

So ladies and gentlemen, do not switch off your television sets or you may miss out on an exciting episode of How Was Osama Killed.

Just.

2011-04-01T05:01:00.000-07:00

I am back in Delhi. The city I love and the city of my love. But do I still love the city I love(d)? It won't be too fair on my part to respond to that today. Here's how my day at Madison Delhi has been going.
I live2 hours away from work, which is an insane, ridiculously long distance. I tossed and turned all night long due to pre-travel stress and woke up at 6.30 am. And panicked, because I was running late. Imagine that- three and a half hours before reporting time and stress began because I absolutely had to reach fifteen minutes before reporting time at least.
Flashback to one month back: Rhea Mukerjee, a student at XIC, Mumbai. Mumbai's a city where the sun never rose for me. Punctuality unfortunately wasn't amongst my top five virtues and attendance (or the lack of it) was not a life-threatening issue. I'd wake up whenever I felt like it and still managed to make it class as I was lucky enough ("spoilt enough" in my mothers words) to be staying fifteen minutes away from college, in posh Colaba paying a whopping 10K as rent per month. That was life. Work, party, chill, work, eat out, work and sleep when college took mercy on us.
Back to today: I am a working woman who travels by bus to work. Yes I got lost on y way here, took a wrong bus, missed one, and finally settled for a Rik. I am sitting at my desk waiting for something to do, as day one is not exactly the most exciting day in most employee-lives. Its almost 6 pm and I am bound to my desk before I start off for my journey to the centre of the Earth ( journey back home that is).

18 Till He Dies

2011-02-13T03:32:00.000-08:00

"My name is Bryan Adams and Here I Am"

The opening lines of the Bryan Adams concert in Mumbai last night and guess what? I was there. Since the age of 12, I have dreamed of watching the man live in concert. The man who's Summer of 69 is the only song I know how to play on the guitar. The man who's songs made me swoon for years. Bryan Adams made me fall in love with love. After the era of Boy Bands, I entered the Adams family and knew the lyrics of almost all his songs. Here was a man who so effortlessly sucked you into his world regardless of how old you are, what genre of music you listened to..he has something for everybody!

I owned his cassettes, downloaded his music and bonded with high school friends over him. "I will watch Bryan Adams live in concert before I die" said little Rhea at the age of 12. And today, at almost 22 (and very much alive) I can say- "I did it! I saw him!" And the wait was completely worth it. He is truly a man meant for his audience that adores him for his voice, his guitar, his smile, his very friendly on stage self, his modesty..HIM.

Bryan Adams, MMRDA Grounds Mumbai
12th February 2011

Last night, there I was...A few feet away from the man himself. I screamed myself hoarse with my friends even though I couldn't see much despite being right in front of the stage but what a feeling it was! My first concert and one where I knew every song! It was insane. From the minute he walked in, the atmosphere was insane. I was part of the mad crowd living every second of the evening, and pinching myself repeatedly that its finally happening. When I switched on my 12 years old self, I stepped away from my friends and found myself a spot from where I could see him clearly. Suddenly it wasn't about the music. I "felt" the atmosphere long enough..Now I just wanted to look at him and soak in the fact that watching him live. I looked at him and realized how old he'd gotten but the enthusiasm and spirit with which he sang "18 till I die" did something to me. Yes, Mr Adams, you will always be 18 and you will never die. Even though I was surrounded by people I did not know, I felt more than comfortable. Ours was a 24000 people strong crowd but in my mind, he was up on stage singing for me. It was just me and Bryan Adams, my childhood hero. Yes, he was long forgotten but yesterday I felt respect for him like never before. "Lets make a night to remember" said Adams, and yes sir, you definitely made my night something I'll remember forever!

I always believed attending the concert with your loved one was a very romantic idea.

Now I believe, attending a concert is certainly a romantic idea- it makes you fall even more deeply in love with the only person you have eyes for- The performer :)Such is the power of a performer. He touches a chord somewhere within you and all you want is to pray he lives forever, enthralling many more millions for years to come. Bryan Adams you are truly special.

I will never forget the time he sang "Everything I do". Camera lights were switched on. 24,000 people switched on their cellphones and held them up in the air while the man sung one of the best love songs ever written..The screen showed the crowd and I almost gasped..Here was a moment I would treasure all my life. The crowd looked like a galaxy of thousands of stars in Heaven shining in admiration for Bryan Adams as he pulled us closer to him with that unforgettable voice. This was one song where nobody screamed, nobody sang out loud..This was the song that 24,000 people hushed each other up so it was solely the man's voice that echoed across MMRDA Grounds. This was the song where I almost had tears in my eyes and thanked my stars for giving me the opportunity to be a part of the concert because

"Here I am, this is me, there's nowhere else on Earth I'd rather be".

I was on Cloud number nine and there was nothing more I wanted in life at that instant.

Dhobi Ghat- My take

2011-01-26T11:26:00.000-08:00

There is something different about the sea breeze. It carries a million stories of hapiness, togetherness, frustration, jealousy, tragedy. There is something about the sea, it listens to your secrets, only to be washed away and never heard of again.

So you've seen too many films on Mumbai to get up and take notice of another one that hits the screens? Watch this film not for its Mumbai connect, but because of its enchanting storytelling.

Dhobi Ghat..There is something about that film that comepletely blew my mind away. It is one of those films that you think about for atleast an hour after stepping out of the cinema hall. I kept to myself for as long as that only because I wanted to allow the film to sink deeper into my system so I could breathe it in as I travelled back home by cab through the streets of Mumbai. Mumbai Diaries- read the subtitle and very appropriate it was. Here was the story of 4 people, completely unrelated to each other with lives as diverse as the four seasons. By some very believable coincidence their paths happened to cross one another, entwining their lives together. Here was the story of Shai an investment banker from New York with a passion for photography; Arun,an artist recently divorced, in search of an inspiration for his next painting; Munna, a young man from Bihar who aspires to be an actor and is a dhobi by profession and lastly Yasmeen a newly married Muslim girl still struggling to get used to Mumbai, who records her daily life as a video diary for her brother she deeply misses, back in UP.

The film is rich in its subtle handling of its muses. It captivates audiences with its music, choice of colours and the sheer brilliance with which the four stories are parallely shown. There was lust, drama, friendship, ambition, tragedy all of which flowed so effortlessly into the script. The film picked up pace as it progressed. There were scenes that had you wondering, there were four individual stories and characters who despite being there in at the most five scenes had so much to contribute as the tale unfolded.

Arun found solace and happiness in the Yasmeen's tapes he found lying about at his new house. Through them he watched her life, lived her life and made her life a part of his. He fell in love with this young girl excited about her new life and her new camera. Her descriptions about Mumbai were so pure, so naive and yet so pure. The childllike enthusiasm while she spoke of the Mumbai rain, the sea, the crowded streets,the darkness, her maid servant and the silent tragic old woman next door struck a chord with me. She missed home but had bright eyes as she spoke of the city and her husband; until she discovered that he was cheating on her. With an unwavering smile she declared in her last message to her brother that she was about to hang herself to death. Her shining eyes now had an odd blankness to it showing her helplessness and desperation. And as simply as that, sans any tears she left. A life, yet another life in the city of dreams ended. As did the spirit of Arun the artist who loved and lost without even meeting the woman who conquered his world- Yasmeen. The colour of her clothes are coordinated with the phase in her life.Watch how beautifully the colour of her clothes transform from happy pink to a tragic shade of blue as she recorded her last message.

The story of Shai and Munna was just as enthralling. The strange friendship between NRI photographer in search for stories to capture on reel and Munna who eventually became her muse, her guide in the mysterious city of Mumbai. The simple, good looking Munna who had an affair with a memsaab, who fell in love with Shai and respected her like none other.Munna who lost his brother, the only family he had, in a gang war but accepted that as a way of life. Shai who blindly loved Arun, and never quite realized Munna's love for her until it was too late and their paths had separated.

The story unfolds with four different lives converging together until certain acts of fate abruptly force them apart in four different directions.

Relationships are an act of fate. Sit back and think about the time you met your closest friend, or your loved one. Chances are that you believe you were destined to meet. Destiny. Fate. Chance. While the randomest of events can be the alpha of your relationships, it takes nothing more than an event just as random to offset what you have built. Dhobi Ghat reiterates the fact.

Watch the film for its stellar performances, brilliant direction, ideas and dialogues. watch it if you appreciate beauty of thought. Watch it and you will remember it for a long long time.

A Letter to my Granddad

2010-11-04T23:01:00.000-07:00

My Dearest Dadu

Today is Diwali and I am missing you a lot. I hope you are fine wherever you are. i dreamt of you again last night so i know for a fact that you're just as happy as I would want you to be. The Gods and thammu are treating you well it seems :). We ate tasty mishtis after dinner and it brought tears to my eyes because i know how much you love sweets. Diabetes has been quite the villain for you for years. But in heaven, i am sure you must be gorging on alll the sweets you lost out on while you were...alive..Just like yourself, I am turning out to be a major mishti-khor (heheh)!

All day I thought of you. Me and ma went to Agra yesterday..Agra..You spent so many years with us there. The city has changed a lot and no, I did not see "Blue Bells" , my kindergarten school that you called "Blue bulls" just to annoy me(and did so quite successfully, I must say!) Delhi is not so cold yet. A lot more pleasant as compared to Mumbai ofcourse so i am happy to be here. Winter has always been your favourite season no dadu? Mine too! I have carried your dark brown blanket to Mumbai with me. No, I don't really need it there because its meant for proper winters and the AC at home hardly qualifies as winters. I have it because it reminds me of you. Please let me know whenever you need it. i will be more than happy to give it to you. But please please speak to me someday. I really want to hear your smiling voice over the phone. I promise i won't ask you to stop eating sweets and heavy food. But please call me..I thought of you a lot when I just went to Mumbai but never really called you up. Then you just left without saying bye to me properly...

However, I refuse to believe that you are gone, and will continue thinking of you everyday for the rest of my life :)
You are the cutest in the world. The other day some auntie saw me and commented that I look just like you. It made me smile :)

Come back soon please..I miss you terribly...

Your favourite grandchild
Rhea
21years now. Don't keep forgetting :p
:)

Ethics in PR is a Misnomer

2010-10-28T13:38:00.000-07:00

PR was considered as the conscience of the organization. But that is passé. PR is so much more than being Just the conscience. PR is a managerial function that humanizes the organization. It reflects the personality of the organization.

The study of Bowen and Health, 2006 declared that 65% of PR executives worldwide had direct access to the decision-making executive level of their organizations. This is a major jump for what the scene was 20 years ago.

And there is a reason for this. It has today become a far more serious profession and the world is gradually beginning to comprehend the same. Ethics put simply is defined as the right way of doing things. One that is rich in terms of morality and in no way goes against the human code of conduct.

History projects Public relations as a profession with a tarnished reputation. It is linked with the “public be damned era” of 1850-1905 where journalism first began to lose its holier than thou image but PR had to bear the brunt of that, getting the stamp of being manipulators of the public mind, a view that holds even today. Hence the time has come to do some serious PR for PR, but not at the expense of our clients.

There are several codes of conduct for Public Relations, world over. These morals vary from one country to another. Take the example of lobbying. While it is a very common practice in the United States, Lobbying is considered illegal, criminal in India. At a basic level these codes stand for similar values such as honesty, openness, loyalty, fair-mindedness, respect, integrity, and forthright communication, however practitioners suggest that the code of conduct is still rather vague. They are sometimes contradictory in nature as mentioned above in the case of “lobbying”. PRSA, IPR, ECPCPR and the IABC are examples of a few professional bodies that represent Public relations.

PR industry is driven by situational ethics. As the name suggests, Situational ethics advocates that decision-making should be seen as independent of specific circumstances. Instead of following the same set of rules in each decision, practitioners engaging in situational ethics decide on a case by case basis.

There has to be a balance between being fair to your publics and to your client. Lets take the example of “Greenwashing”. Eco-friendly is the buzz word associated with CSR for companies. Everyone has been throwing the word around from the LGs to Fords who produce eco friendly electronics and models of cars like the Hybrid. Now how eco-friendly are they really? Yes, they may be energy smart products, but are you trying to tell me that their production procedures are just as efficient? What do you do then? Stick to those subjective ethics and choose not to represent the client because they are lying about their eco-friendly claim?

Countries use public relations to a large extent to promote tourism. The “Incredible India” campaign has been widely appreciated world over. Is the campaign then unethical just because it hides the ugly side of India and glorifies it as being an ultimate tourist destination?

Fatima Bhutto shot to fame when she publicly ostracized Benazir Bhutto’s regime in Pakistan in early 2010. The idea behind this sudden outburst was to generate publicity for her book “Songs of Blood and Sword”. How ethical is it to wash someone’s dirty linen in public? But nobody got hurt and the book went out to selling millions of copies worldwide.

Now recently, the Rooney Saga. It is common practice that football agents generate rumours about interest from big clubs as a players contract is coming to its end. This generates publicity and creates unrest among the fans and board members. But in the end, it is a common practice that the player has the last laugh by winning a hefty pay-package. Wayne Rooney’s agent did just that. But Rooney admitted that he was unhappy with the lack of investment the club made in its players, reflecting poor ambition on part of the club. This was an honest, ethical admission. Result?-An infuriated fan base.

While keeping mum was a bad idea in the case of Toyota’s faulty brakes controversy or the Enron PR disaster, it was quintessential to do so for Wayne Rooney.

Hence spin doctoring is not a bad word. It is not about lying or disrespecting public, rather it is about wisely choosing what to communicate.

4 Months Later

2010-10-28T13:33:00.000-07:00

November. Its been four months since my favorite part of life began-Xavier Institute of Communications. From the "most suffocating and craziest educational experience ever" to this magnetic college, city with the nicest, funnest friends I have met in a long long time. We study together, eat together, work together and fun it has been! This bunch of people aren't my friends, they're family now. We fight and love, and sometimes love so much that onlookers stand scandalized. Here, I discover myself every single day. I learn what it means to be there for each other. We stand up for each other and cannot bear the sight of tears in our girls' eyes. From the free flowing hugs and kisses to sharing the most intimate details about our lives,to bonding over "The Beatles" ,and exchanging views on the most important issues that happen at the Upper East Side, we've done it all! Yes we gossip, but it is largely harmless criticism and besides, you can't really expect otherwise from a class of 50 women, can you?

My treasure trove of memories expands everyday. The Public Relations batch of 2010-11 has been termed as the best product of XIC ever *takes a bow*. But I think its a ploy our professors use to convince us to over-work and under-"play". I slept for easily 10 hours on every single non-exam day of my life back in Delhi. But here, thanks to working till 5.30 am, five hour's sleep is actually considered a luxury. There is so much I have learnt about the world around me.

At Chiros some time back. With some people I adore!

The innumerable assignments that forced us to research into firms and concepts that would otherwise have been left untouched, have been a blessing in disguise. "Group assignment" has long been the most dreaded phrase that we heard out of the mouths of our professors, almost as bad as a 9am class! But times have changed already. My last two group assignments have been so interesting and enriching that I have stopped complaining at last!

Group assignments...This consists of hours of brainstorming to come up with that one Big idea, objectives and tactics for the appointed client. Some four hours later, we're still confused and our mind threatens to shut down any moment. Eyes well up with tears of tiredness and frustration..Then suddenly there are high-fives and work begins with renewed spirit. Why? Because my friend, this is when the funkiest and most innovative campaign ideas are born! How is it that best work happens in the last half hour, is a mystery nobody has been able to solve.

This sudden rush of love to each one of my friends at college oozes out because I have realized that its time I accept that XIC, PR, maddening assignments and grades are not going to last forever. Yes, we will move on and reminisce over everything mentioned in my blog, and so much more that I have skipped- the secret conversations; the getaways; the blonde moments and the drunken tales; the eating out at cheap and classy places depending upon the time of the month( no, not THAT.It's the monthly budget I speak of here!); clicking pictures; drinking sitaphal shake and gorging on chat, maggi, BBC, Idli (my failed new diet plan) and the horrible, sweet Aloo parathas I have grown to love; making fun of professors; the love-hate relationships within class; feeling old at the sight of the undergrad kids; being envious of other courses at XIC that get to go for trips while we slog at class, consoling ourselves with the belief that "we will earn more eventually!" just to keep us going; Theobroma, Mondy's and its jukebox, New Martin, Picadilly, Colaba Causeway...I can go on forever! the clock wasn't ticking by so quickly.... I have an assignment to get back to!

P.S.- I will always love you!

My stint with Ganesh Chaturthi

2010-09-26T11:17:00.000-07:00

Thousands of kilometres away from home but the sounds of dhak call me home.

Ganesh Chaturthi in Mumbai is massive! It was 6 pm, on the last day of the festival, and time for statues of Lord Ganesha to be carried out of the pandal, his home for the last ten days, towards the sea for visarjan. I was working on my long pending assignments, when suddenly I hear the sounds of dhol, the sweet sound of a conch, and devotional songs being sung aloud. It was finally time to see the spirit of Mumbai's biggest festival of its favourite God. I swung open our windows and along with my room-mates, leaned outside to watch the procession. There was dancing and singing, chirpy young women, much-in-command yound men, nostalgic weeping women and little kids running around, enjoying the spectacle.

The massive statue of Ganesh that stood down the lane from my house was trolleying accross on a trailer towards the main road. It stood right under our window for about fifteen minutes as everyone paid their respects to their God. We enjoyed each second of it, felt a part of it and stood with our hands folded, when not clicking pictures, paying our respects.. I was touched and felt a piousness that I have always associated with Durga Puja. Just as it went out of sight, and we sighed in wonder about how surprisingly attached we had gotten to our neighbourhood bhagwan, we spotted at a distance, yet another statue being trolleyed accross!

This had much more fan fare with easily fifty devotees of all age groups escorting it, and was easily double the size of the one we saw under our window! Without thinking twice, we wore decent clothes and ran downstairs to join them. There was no way we would have watched yet another procession from our window. What was the point in being a mere spectator, when participating can be so much more exciting? No longer were we Delhi girls in a new city. The Mumbai pulse hit us and we felt love and reverence for the Lord Ganesha as he was transported accross our part of the city.
The scene was no different from that of a wedding baraat. There was dancing and music and people of all ages, shapes and sizes. There was no difference between the rich and the poor. There was enthusiasm, gratefulness and happiness in the air. My room-mate carried her DSLR camera and children enjoyed being clicked by her as she caught every second of the procession on her camera. We prayed, as if he was ours just as the devotees believed Ganesha was theirs. The pandit on the trailer smiled at gave us prasaad. This was time for celebration. And this gesture was his way of accepting us as being one of them.

How much I enjoyed being one of them. I do not know if I will ever be witness to this festival again, as I leave this city in about 6 months' time..So wonderful it was to forget the rich-poor divide and celebrate with complete strangers. How wonderful it was to note that religious tolerence is such an easy thing. God belongs to nobody in particular, so why stop yourself from celebrating someone else's faith?

Festivals- they are our USP. Nowhere in the world will you find so many different reasons to celebrate round the year, accross the country.

I can still hear the sounds of dhak and they are calling me home. Yes, I'm speaking of my reason to celebrate- Durga Pujo.

Mumbai Express

2010-09-05T15:19:00.000-07:00

Yes its late. I have lived here for two months now yet there isn't a word blogged about my new life. Shame on me!

I picked Mumbai over Delhi. Many arguments and tears later, i picked the city of my dreams and the college I knew I'd love. I was scared. Never before had I ventured out of home for such a long time. Yes I always wanted to take the first flight out of home to live the independent, freedom from rules life in a city like Mumbai. However when the time actually came, I was scared. Petrified. Anxious. It bothers me to surround myself with unknown people. What would they be like? Would they be friendly and kind? Will I find people to replace the ones from my old life, to make life here not just bearable, but fun? What would my roomies be like? Living with three girls, none of whom I knew too well was the scariest part!

Cut to two months later. I have settled down. I am as happy as I thought I would be. Mumbai is just the adventure I thought it would be. Someone once told me- "Once in Mumbai, you'd never want to leave". Quicksand. That's what this city has been compared to. Hotel California too if you please. Okay I'm just being smart with my previous two metaphors, but you get my point don't you? I vehemently disagreed with this statement, for like an entire umm Week. Now I beg to differ. I am falling dangerously in love with it. Despite all its uncleanness and stench, Mumbai is beautiful. Mumbai is not a city, its a person. It's someone you can befriend, hang out with. This "Hotel California" opens its arms to everyone who wishes to enter it. It glitters. It dazzles you, pulling you into its race for life, for success. You don't merely exist in Mumbai. you LIVE.

XIC so far has been everything it promised to be. I have found friends, something like friends and others, each one of who are entertaining in their own way. In these two months I feel I have learnt what the ways of life would be like. I am working on reducing the rose-tint in my windows trough which I view the world, because the fact remains, its a real mean world out there, if you allow it to be so. But then again, if you want to have a happy, fun time, nobody can stop you! In my new friends I have found my new family. I have found friends I know I would cherish for life. Here is a bunch of people that (cliched as it sounds) works hard and parties harder. After a rather long waiting period, I have gone back to the world I so love. Prithvi theatre is my lover for the year and together we'll make memories I'd treasure for life.

Marine Drive in the Mumbai monsoons. The sea can have the most amazing calming effect on your senses. You've had a bad day and need to vent out your frustration? I have a simple solution- cab it to Marine Drive, kick your slippers off and watch the sea. Listen to the stories the waves and ripples of the sea tell you, and feel your nerves ease. If you're too far away from the sea, lean outside your windows and chances are that you will catch some rain splash across your face!

Its 4 am already and my weekend just got over. Ah the weekend! How I love weekends! I made the wise choice of not wearing my favourite 3" heels to the club this Saturday and I am still patting myself on the back for making the decision. Some dancing we did man! Girls night outs are funner than I thought! The city never sleeps. Its never too late for anything. At 4am, if you're hungry and your apartment has no food (God save you from that situation), there's always the friendly (and SO not cheap) road side Bade Miyan at Colaba. You're bored and feel like doing something fun, go to Marine Drive. You'll still find people there. You find people everywhere. That's Mumbai. There's room for everybody. It is only in Mumbai that a swanky club can compete with CST station for the number of people that can fit into it on a Saturday night.

I miss home and grab every opportunity to go back to visit my folks. But there is something about my city, my college and my new friends that makes me want to come right back. There are times I wonder where I truly belong. I don't understand why is it that I try to brush away the thought of moving out of this city for good in six months' time. I will know in time. But I refuse to ponder on this. I am having way too much fun and I am just beginning to forge some real relationships. I am working towards getting a good job and a life that I have always wanted for myself.

I am loving it. :)

The Phantom of the Opera

2010-08-10T11:21:00.000-07:00

Her voice became his passion. Her love became his obsession. Her refusal became his rage.....

At the Paris Opera House in 1911, an auction is underway. Set pieces from the old theatre are being sold, one of which is a chandelier in pieces. The auctioneer mentions that the chandelier was involved in the "strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera, a mystery never fully explained.”

Phantom of the Opera- A musical by Andrew Lloyd Webber, based on the French novel Le Fantôme de l'Opéra by Gaston Leroux. The central plot revolves around a beautiful soprano Christine Daae who becomes the obsession of the disfigured musical genius called the Phantom of the Opera. The tale of love, lust, loneliness and betrayal is a love triangle between Christine, Raoul and the musical genius who secretly tutored Christine in music convincing her to be her beloved “Angel of Music”. She herself had never seen her mystery teacher but such was the depth of her ardour and innocence that she fell in love with him nonetheless...

I was bitten by the theatre bug at the age of eighteen and had ever since dreamt of watching this masterpiece on stage. I refused to satisfy myself with the film version as nothing, I repeat, nothing can beat watching a classic tale unfold on stage. My dream came true this summer when I watched my favourite play, The Phantom of the Opera at Her Majesty’s Theater in London and believe you me, the experience was even better than what I thought it would be.

The play is set in an Opera House. What is the first thing that pops into your mind when you think of an Opera House? I’ll tell you - Opera singers, grand rich bright backdrops, the magic of lights, the astounding sound of instruments and lyrics that would move you to tears... Here I was, just seconds away from fulfilling my dream..The house lights went off and music began to play. That tragic tune of Phantom of the Opera that continues to ring in my head filled the entire theatre and suddenly the stage burst into light. I was transported into Paris, in its culturally richest era. I watched actors who owned the stage, empowered, luring the audience into their world. I could not help but marvel at the brilliance with which the scenes were executed. The scene of the masquerade party which had atleast 50 actors on stage simultaneously, the scenes where Christine looks into her mirror and suddenly appears the face of the phantom who leads her into the mirror, the sword fight between her two lovers that included fire balls being hurled at each other – breathtaking stuff!

The opera was a treat to all our senses. From the breathtaking acting to the ballerinas, the many colours of costumes and the play of lights to the lyrics, dialogues and the magic of the orchestra that played alongside..It was simply Brilliant. I felt happiness and fear and pity and love. I believed I was Christine and in my head, sang and tapped my feet to the music. So intimate was the interaction of the actors with the audience that I forgot that I was not the only person sitting in the theater.

I was as enamoured as a little girl reading a fairy tale book. Here was why I lived. This is what I was meant to see. I was bewitched, and seduced by the musical genius of Andrew Lloyd Webber. I laughed and sighed and gasped and cried. I felt love like never before and felt like here was a place that I belonged to...

“Its over now. The Music of the night..” were the last words of the crest fallen phantom who lost his lady love to Raoul.

But to me, it had just begun. My love for the Phantom of the Opera has only just begun.

Decisions..

2010-06-26T08:05:00.000-07:00

One thing is sure. We have to do something. We have to do the best we know how at the moment... if it doesn't turn out right, we can modify it as we go along.
-Franklin D. Roosevelt

My favorite topic again- Human nature in its element. What happens when you get something you once wanted with all your life? Nothing. You want more. What happens when you have the best options to choose from? You rejoice about having choices? No. You cry about not being able to decide!!

We pray, dream and strive with all our might to get something we have always wanted. We spend months and sometimes years dreaming about it, so much so, that wanting it becomes a way of life. I had a dream too. Nothing big in general, but a small dream I nurtured over time, got obsessed with. Then a year and a half later, I got it.

A happy ending you say? Well, not quite. During my want period, priorities changed, the thrill of plunging into the unknown world was replaced by the desire of remaining in my happy comfortable state. I had all that I wanted and did not wish to change it one bit. The dream changed. I wanted something else, just as badly as I wanted the previous thing. I almost forgot about the dream, that became a part of my life even before I clasped my fingers around it. Have I mentioned that I have never previously got anything I wanted real bad? The feeling of achieving something you desired was unknown to me. I realized, that I never really wanted anything enough or as much as I wanted these new, contrasting things. But the problem arose, when I got both of them.

Ask anybody who knows me, Nothing in the world mattered more to me that my independence. I always wanted to do well for myself and stand on my own feet, and rise to the highest levels of excellence possible, without the need for support. Then I met my alter ego. I found happiness and love. I learned and realized how lucky I am to have everything a girl has ever wanted, almost everything. The desire for immense success remains, but something, somewhere down the line, changed. Gleefully I sailed with the wind of my romantic dream marveling at how perfect life could get if I achieved dream # 2, which promises of just as much success.

DO I go ahead with old dream and venture into the adventures of a new life, strongly holding on to my strings of the present, but risking these ties nonetheless? Or would happiness come from living the happy, comfortable life, filled with love and stories that I have grown to enjoy and cherish? This is hard because I am afraid of moving out of home and the arms of those I so love. Yet I am skeptical about giving up on something I wanted so bad. I refuse to live a life of regrets. But will I manage a life alone?

In a four days' time, I'd know. I`d have to know.

The Green Picture Postcard

2010-05-28T10:55:00.000-07:00

Ireland- The magical island, the colour of emerald green.

Magical yes. You need to see it to believe it. Driving through the spotless, perfectly laid down roads amidst the lush green acres of land, its not a countryside you`re driving through.It`s heaven. It`s a dream you do not want to wake up from. This is what nature lovers write poetry and songs about. The skies are bluer than one can imagine, the hues of flowers adorning this island is what paintings are made of. The perfect shades of green, yellow, orange, rend, violet, pink..Pick your favourite from a colour palette, and you`d find a shade that outdoes its beauty in Ireland.

Wearing woollen jackets, hot showers, steaming hot milk, thanking God for bright sunlight, and watching the sun go down..at 10 pm. This is the beautiful Irish summer, in the month of May. With its unpredictable climate, this part of the world is almost like a precious little child, gifted with all the beauty Aphrodite possessed, keeping her admirers guessing about whether or not it is a good day to take your dog out for a run to the beach.

The peace, the breeze, the manicured acres of farmlands complete with their horses, the ice cold water of its beaches, waves lashing against the rocks of the Giant Causeway, the glittering island just after yet another rainfall..This is Ireland.

Mediocrity and Happiness

2010-02-02T09:18:00.000-08:00

Mediocrity is a very safe,happy zone.
When you strive to be at the top of things, it's hard work.
-A doctor.

Wise words spoken to me by a friend today.It's true, isn't it?When you have no stupendous dreams, and are sailing through life, you're happy.But in this happiness, what you do not realize is that you compromise on your passion for excellence. You begin to fear taking risks and stop trying to push yourself to make life bigger and better. There is so so much you and I can do with our lives if we stay committed and focused on doing things we truly love and are passionate about. There may be something I'm good at and believe that I'll excel in that field. But that's just the first step. Having belief and determination isn't enough if it's not backed by hard work and sincerity in achieving what you want. We come into this world alone, and will leave it alone.So what matters most, is that you find your niche in society. Being just another face in the crowd is simple. Where's the adventure in being a clone of 5000 others?? You are given one chance to live, so live it. Road blocks are aplenty and mistakes are made. But these only make us stronger, as we learn what not to do! That's important too sometimes, right?

Nobody is born a genius. And if you've been a 'genius', there's no way you can unlearn it. Why accept mediocrity when you know that reaching the peak is not impossible?Why settle with being second best, when being the best is so much more alluring? Why are you scared of envisaging a life of success and prosperity for yourself? Why believe it's too late to start afresh?? Why allow someone else to make you doubt your own abilities? There's something mystical about faith- what you believe and want, you get. As mentioned in 'The Secret', if you really want something, the universe ensures that you get it. What you have to do, is want it enough.

I know from personal experience how hard it is to do something you fiercely dislike.But ask yourself why you despise it so much. When people fall apart, they dislike each other. When the pair of hot shoes we want is too expensive, we suddenly realize that it was never 'good enough' . We lose a game, or do not get tickets to a movie, and exclaim, "it was never meant to be". It was never meant to be....WHO on Earth makes this decision for you? If someone or something defeats you, you only come back stronger! That should be the aim..Shunning your object of hatred and escaping from it is nothing but an act of absolute cowardice. Are you really so much of a loser? Are you ready to so easily to give in to another, just because you're scared of trying to beat your foes?

You may have bigger plans in store, but lets not forget about the present. I again quote my friend, "Nobody gives a damn if you're good at 50 things. The minute you're brilliant at something, you are noticed and appreciated." My point being, discover yourself, focus on achieving what you want and stay committed to making it happen; then push yourself harder so you stand out and leave a mark in the world.

Reading is sexy

2010-01-25T09:25:00.000-08:00

Books are the quietest and most constant of friends;

they are the most accessible and wisest of councellors,

and the most patient of teachers.

-Charles W.Eliot

The Jaipur Literature Festival is on. I was watching this discussion on NDTV about the impending extinction of books with the incursion of internet literature in our lives today. It got me thinking.Have we really moved on so much from those ever so loved companions and friends who played an instrumental role in shaping who we are today?

Books..They were indeed an indispensable part of my early life. From what I have often been told, I read magazines, even before I learnt to read! I remember being read out bed time stories by my parents every night when I was barely an infant. Enid Blyton's characters have all been my imaginary friends when my ever wandering mind wished to have random fun back when I was still growing up(no, I was not lonely, I just lived the pages I read) .Then came the Sidney Sheldon and Jeffery Archer stage where I believed I was 'grown up' enough to read more 'mature literature', with Pride and Prejudice, Little Women, Jane Eyre sprinkled in between..Then we moved into the big mad enchating world of Harry Potter followed by Dan Brown, Khaled Hosseini and other 'smart' authors.

Whatever be the genre, I always associated myself with the books I read.There's something about the written word which completely gets you man! I have been little Suzie(Suzie's sleepy time- you wouldnt know it, relax) falling asleep, and a pretty princess lost in a forest attending to dwarfs.From the very fiesty Jo (Little Women) and Scarlett O' Hara(need I mention the book?!), I felt Miriam's (A thousand splendid suns) pain, woman-to-woman.I was Ron Weasly the wizard, being brave, funny and clumsy on one hand and the hot suave female heroines on the other hand, very intelligently solving unimaginably difficult crimes with remarkable presence of mind. I have loved and felt love like Holly Kennedy( P.S. I love You) and completely agreed with Chetan Bhagat's protagonists. I discovered Mumbai with Shantaram and dissed the Roman Catholic church with Robert Langdon.

I do not think I can speak for the rest of the world, but honestly, very sadly, I think my love affair with the printed word has lost its spark somewhere in between.I would love to snuggle into bed with my book, drowning myself into the world created by those pages, but in retrospeact, I do not remember that happening in a while. Yes, my fingers itch to read every new big novel (Fiction, definitely!) that comes into the bookshelves, but when was the last time I actually bought myself an exciting book off the bookshelf?

If you love something, pursue it. Books are not like human beings. They are as loyal as one can get! They have the same story to tell each time you meet them and never back track on their words. Books take you to places you have never been and probably are not really planning to go, or Can go for that matter. I have been to the most amazing locales both real and fictional, that you can imagine.I have seen the world experiencing a myriad of emotions and learning new things, all through the eyes of my story-book characters..

Such is my love for books. Books are so so much more than a collection of pages..Just like music, they're the most alive non-living entities in the world. Does not make sense to you? I'd suggest you pick up a book right away, and I bet you, you would agree with me .

Dude whatever said and done, reading is sexy :D

The Year That Was

2009-12-30T22:59:00.000-08:00

2010 is here !!
Happy New Year to everyone who follows my blog (Yes, that would be just me i have a feeling). 2009 has been an amazing year for me.A mix of ups and downs, more ups than down actually..Or rather, the ups were just so high that downs do not matter as much in retrospect. This was MY year people.It truly was.

It began with META in February which reintroduced me to the world of theater and made me fall so deeply in love with it, that I don't see my love affair ever ending . To watch ordinary people transform into brilliant performers the minute they step onto stage, putting all they have into each run through ,having fun while they're at it. Maybe that's how living your dream makes you feel: happy, passionate and determined to do your thing the perfect way.The dark auditorium with 300 silent breaths, music beings and hearts begin to beat faster as the audience awaits the stage to be light up..Then suddenly it does, and out walks a performer, seducing each one of us into his world as we laugh, cry, feel fear and hatred, envy and love with him.Such is the power of a performer.He makes you feel the way he wants. Hats off to him.

Then came April, my birthday month(17th Apr.Gifts accepted throughout the year). I had among my saddest birthdays last year because college exams are held in My month.Yes, that's right, I spent my birthday at home. I turned 20, have been studying in a "happening" college for 3 years and yet, had never chilled out with friends beyond 8pm.Two days later, was my friend's birthday and she took us out to dinner and I was to stay over at her place.For a girl who doesn't get permission to stay out, this was a miracle! Her birthday felt like mine. We all went out to dinner and my night ended at 6am .A complete first.haha me and out all night long ,doing random fun, SAFE things?!And suddenly I had a good feeling about this year :)

May-July were The most exciting and eventful months of my entire 20 years of existence.I went to Mumbai.The city of my dreams. The city that helped me rediscover myself. I worked for two months in a completely new city and there I Lived, in the true sense of the word.I traveled by the Mumbai local for 4 hours daily.I Met new people, some who sort of gave me a hard time, but also some others who made Mumbai a summer i would never forget :) . The city is me.Marine Lines, Colaba, the local train, the rains, the shops, Prithvi Theatre ..There's a vibe in the city which makes you want it more.Makes you want to be a part of it..In the fast life of Mumbai city you don't just exist, you need to make a mark, and have fun while you are at it.I am soo goin back there in a year or two !

July to October were months where I relived Mumbai in my head and in conversations, got back to college and back to the usual grind.Then came festivals season.Diwali , Durga Puja and birthdays of my closest friends.Full-on party season !November was ordinary..It was hangover time after the activity-rich months that passed by.Then there was the onset on MBA exams.

December was a highly fulfilling month for me.I can dedicate an entire post to my very sweet December..All I can say, is that December was a perfect tribute to my exciting 2009.Every single day of this month was a new story.I met someone I know I will never forget for the rest of my life.I grew up all over again when we visited Agra with our closest friends. December 5 deserves a special mention here for being a date I will always associate with perfection :)

These were all my ups. But who said life is a red of roses?Well, I said it is. I go to bed when it's time to sleep.And I choose to sleep on a happy note.

Cheers :)

Winter bliss

2009-12-21T08:08:00.000-08:00

Winter came down to our home one night
Quietly pirouetting in on silvery-toed slippers of snow,
And we, we were children once again.
-Bill Morgan, Jr.

There's something so unfathomably gorgeous about the winter season.The soft sunlight, warming you through the cold cold morning air..Like the hand of a loving friend reaching out a crowd of unknown faces.The gentle winter breeze reminding you of her constant presence, invigorating you as you inhale the morning freshness, kick-starting your day in the perfect way. There's a sense of calm about the Delhi winter.People suddenly turn happier and spirits soar all around.For a city plagued by extreme summers, this season is entirely God's blessing.

Nothing can beat the coziness associated with winters.Climbing out of bed early morning is a Herculean task yes, but who's complaining?! Delhi University, I must add, celebrates winters in its own way. You know it's festive time as soon as the brightly colored sweaters, mufflers, socks and fun shoes are unleashed.There's something about college life - we celebrate everything.The season of hot coffee and soup..

With Christmas round the corner, it's hard to not be bitten by the happiness bug. And with New year's eve being only days away, joy just continues to find it's way into our lives. Winter is the bonfire time.Get together with your closest friends, snuggle around a bonfire, throw anything warm around your shoulders,or share shawls, snack on delightful appetizers, sing songs and it's a party you'd never forget !

There's indeed something magical about winter .How else can one explain the feeling of wanting to be kids again? The season when Santa Claus silently tip-toes into our rooms with gifts and yet again manages to slip away inconspicuously, as we vow to spot him the year after .. Bring me some snow people, we have snowmen to make !
:)

This Year's Love

2009-12-10T03:55:00.000-08:00

This years love had better last
Heaven knows it's high time
And I've been waiting on my own too long
But when you hold me like you do
It feels so right

A wonderful song by David Gray I heard about a week ago. To be precise,I heard it on the 3rd or 4th of December.
My Blog is my net space.I haven't written in a while so I assume that not too many eyes will fall on this. This is about as private as I can get.

Have you ever had times in your life when you plan how you will go about a certain thing and abstain from others because you have been burnt too many times? You advice people against a it and almost smirk when they make your mistakes. It takes you 2 years to block it from your life and finally you turn so impermeable, cold to the thing that you never in your wildest dreams believed that your guards would fall this easily.Suddenly, all the hard work goes down the drain and you're back in the same web you've been running away from all this time.

What do you do when the trap makes you this happy? How do you help yourself from turning 16 again? How do you control yourself from wishing that you do not mean each one of the nice things you say? What do you do when you have a play list of our-songs? What do you when all it takes is six and a half hours to cause this metamorphosis ? Am I making the mistake I have made so many times already? It started in a wrong way, but why does it feel so right? Why does it feel like it's been years? I do not know what this is. All I know is that I will stand by it. I love how perfect the first time we met turned out to be. There's something about first times that prepares you for the rest of the journey, no? When everything's a first with somebody in a crazy, innocent way what can you do about it apart from smiling?

So, well, in he words of David Gray : This year's love had better Last.

*blush*

The 60 hours

2009-11-23T09:04:00.000-08:00

Today is 26/11. The chills run down my spine once again as I relive the horror of the Mumbai attack last year.Those 60 hours of terror left the city groping hopelessly in the dark for some hope of the madness to end.Hundreds died, there was bloodshed and screams everywhere. As the sounds of gunshots echoed through the now eerily silent city, our hearts shivered with the knowledge of yet another innocent losing his life.

I will never in my entire life forget how fervently each one of us, wherever we were, prayed while watching live media bytes, for the gun-battle to end.Together we lay awake at night turning on our TV sets to check if the number of terrorist casualties had increased. We watched the unnamed NSG Commandos and Black cats become national heroes as the fought long and hard, finally ending India's worst nightmare.

That was a year back and i refuse to write more about it. None of us have forgotten the trauma and i am much too faint-hearted to read/write about the horrifying series of events.This morning I almost abstained from my daily ritual of reading the newspaper out of fear of being bombarded with more information, scandals and terrible reminders about 26/11 and the developments (or the lack of them) that followed; but to my surprise, the TOI was sensitive to my kind and spared us the depression by being careful with their writings today.

One year later, I read about an update in the life of baby Moshe. For those who do not know, Moshe was the two year old child who's parents, the Jewish Rabbi couple were brutally murdered that fateful night. He is three now and hopes to be reunited with his parents someday. He is far too young to know the meaning of death. He is too young to know the meaning of death.My heart goes out to him and all those innocent little ones who's lives changed that fateful night, with them probably still living in oblivion about the fact that their parents are never coming back.

It has been a year and we're still stuck in no-man's land. Pakistan, who should have, by Indian efforts, been condemned internationally for their inaction in dealing with the mushrooming terror outfits have stealthily managed to squeeze themselves out of it as the mere exchange of dossiers showed India's dwindling interest in fighting their own battle. I'm amazed at how conveniently the government has allowed India to become an object of mockery in the global forum. Forget about finding a place in the Security Council, the Obama-America does not believe India can handle even her Own issues!China's Big Boss role in South Asia has made that pretty evident.

One year later, we the people are waiting for answers. We want solutions or at least some assurance that it's safe to step out of home. To hell with all the blame games we have got so well accustomed to now.The grieving families of 26/11 have wounds so deep that they cannot be healed for a long time to come.Do their tears not matter at all?! That India does not value life, has been established time and again; but does the government not owe her dead heroes something much more than just Homage??

Oh and yes, Happy Thanksgiving Day.

He Who Lived

2009-11-12T06:30:00.000-08:00

In life, we shall find many men that are great, and some men that are good, but very few men that are both great and good. - Charles Caleb Colton

I feel left out. After really long, months rather, i feel low and alone.I know why but would not want to share it with you. I am not liking this. I hate it when people assume that me being upset about something is not a big deal.I hate how insensitive people can get.I hate it when people chuck attitude.But this post is not about me.

People leave one another.They are forced to leave their families.HE doesn't care apparently about the plight of those they leave behind. And it's always the good people who go.I know death is a destiny that each individual eventually meets and only the timing differs from person to person. But it's a terrible ordeal for those who loved them.A painful experience that could take over a lifetime to get over. Its' terrible when we see people hurt and helpless, lost and bewildered with questions about why destiny chose them to be unkind to.

A few days ago, a wonderful man died. I did not know him personally, yet I feel as if i have met him. I never even saw him, but when I went to pay my condolences to his family, i regretted not meeting him while he was still alive. He was not an average human being, he was gifted.Gifted with something so rare in today's times, that his demise was yet another waste to the world.What made him different you ask?Well, he had a heart of gold. A Film and Television Institute of India (FTII) graduate, he was among the biggest names in Indian television. I was told that he headed Doordarshan for the longest time. But that is not what I wish to speak of, due to lack of knowledge.This post is a tribute to HIM.

He was a man who knew how to live.He dedicated his life to what he loved most- his family and his work. He had got his only son club memberships even before he was born so that the infant would have fantastic facilities to play in, enrolled him in violin classes because "life without music is nothing", ensured that his son got the best of education and the best environment to grow up in. He was among the most respectable people in his fraternity .Each person who walked into their house that day to meet his crest-fallen,weeping, disbelieving beautiful wife, only added to the already immense respect that I had developed for the man. "How can there be so much greatness in one human being to have touched the hearts of so many?" I wondered.
Let me narrate an incident : This Diwali, he celebrated buying crackers for all the workers and laborers in his locality, gifting them Rs50 each and a box of sweets.These were people he did not know, and people who never worked for him .
He loved children and had faith in the power of youth. He believed in them and enjoyed their company, learnt from them.A Communist by nature, he took immense pleasure in debating about his political point of view just for argument sake! He was diabetic but a connoisseur for food.He had a splendid taste in food and believed that nothing is more important than "good-food" eating habits!A chai-holic, he collected samples of tea from every country he visited and tried in vain to make his wife love the drink just as much!

All of 68 years, he was as fit as you or me with an incredible zest for life and looks that could make anybody go weak in their knees. He recently found a new assignment to keep his passion of film making alive- His new film as a director.He had everything prepared and shooting was about to begin. The actors were in place, producer and camera guys were geared up.He had faith that this film will be screened in France and will garner immense appreciation because such was the talent of the man. He deserved nothing less than that.

Then one night, his son on Skype told him that he got admission in Oxford for a PhD. The Only son who's well being, happiness and education was what mattered most to Uncle. To watch him make it to the best university in the world was the biggest achievement the father could have wished for. Now all he had to bother about was the film. It would be ready before his son returns to the country and together father, son and his loving wife would celebrate the start of a new life- one where he again plunged himself into films. He was after all, among the most illustrious alumni of FTII!After yet another friendly, intellectually stimulating dinner with his family,on hearing the wonderfully appeasing news about his now grown-up son , he went to bed.

But then..he never woke up.

Decoding Us

2009-11-10T04:54:00.000-08:00

"You're a part time lover and a full-time friend
The monkey on your back is the latest trend
I don't see what anyone can see
In Anyone Else ..But You..."- Juno OST
:) :)

I do not understand why or how we ended up being the way we are. When you're around I do not take much notice of you, but your absence pricks me, makes me want to meet you, speak to you, make you listen to me. I really don't think you're a good listener since you cut me off unknowingly each time I am in the middle of some fascinating story, only to start off with something completely random and uninteresting. I hate you for that. Yet, I forgive you and continue listening simply because of the sincere,beautiful passion with which you narrate your stories.So innocently and honestly that its almost sinful to stop you or discourage you . You sound like a child talking about the "star" he got from his teacher as a reward for good handwriting! You get what I mean?

You have absolutely no idea how to console people yet you're the first person I turn to when I'm bummed out. I do not know why . I do not love you still the way I once did but I love you none the less. In this innocent childish way. You make me feel like the little girl I wrote about. Speaking to you is like holding on to history...To a time when life was different. You make me laugh, you make me sulk, you hold on to me (or the phone rather) when I cry or feel alone. But I conveniently forget about you when I feel like it and reprimand you for attempting to the same to me.You are so unlike people I have met. You're like my child.I care about you. I cannot see you with another, not because I want you, but because I cannot let go of us, our space. Yes, you're right when you say - "Rhea, you want to own people you love". Maybe I do.

I have no idea why you're so important to me and vice-versa. Do best friends speak four days a week about nothing for an hour on STD? Are we missing an obvious point? Why do other people not get us? Some relationships are so beautiful just the way they are that giving them a name is like insulting them. We tried getting back together and it was sort of disastrous. We have changed. I am not the girl you adored. I dread the day you will finally take notice. Life has hardened me. I have priorities and so do you. I know we won't always be the way we are.

I will never forget you. I wish I never have to.

The Man In The Mirror.

2009-11-07T06:00:00.000-08:00

I am not a myth. -Marlene Dietrich

I watched This Is It today.And am speechless.Michael Jackson deserves every bit of the adulation that he has received throughout his life, and after that. The enigma of MJ will continue for decades to follow. He is not called the King of Pop for nothing. Michael Jackson was not your regular fantastic singer.He was an era. Not a generation, but an era. 4 decades of enchanting billions through his music, dance and life.

This Is It stunned me into silence. I never thought I could watch a film all by myself in a movie hall until MJs documentary happened to me. The lives of performers intrigue me. They spend their life entertaining the world, garner appreciation for their art, deal with immense pressure to be continuously fake since one wrong move can be suicidal to their reputation. We as fans loved him for him music, his dance, his humanitarian deeds. Yet, two to three reports in the news channels and gossip magazines about certain scandalous episodes that were never proved, made us laugh at MJ-jokes. How fair is that? Why do we force them into desperation and hence depression leading to their demise? How is it that so many legends and icons died this young? Is all the fame, money, popularity really worth it when you end up dying alone? Nothing can be worse than dying alone.

If you do not understand why I support Michael Jackson so passionately, it's not my fault.For the record, I am not planning on naming my kids MJ although the dog well..I might just consider. Neither am I trying to establish a We-love-MJ-army. I get crabby because I genuinely liked him. He turned into whatever we saw because the world and his country pushed him into it. Being black anguished him so deeply that he tried to change everything about himself.Sadly, it did not quite work out the way he expected it to.

In the quest to be accepted one ends up taking the gravest of steps. Why is it so hard for people to live with who they are?How can you expect to be happy when you're trapped in the body of someone you do to know?It's sad when I see the same things happen around me. That "I have seen the world in my three years of college" I can safely say. Imagine, kids still take up smoking and doping because they think it's cool. Going for random parties and getting sloshed etc is considered cool by kids. The best part about not having to don a uniform is the freedom from the shackles of looking like a clone of 500 people. It's an opportunity to showcase your Individuality! WHY then would one wear clothes just because the cool-ones wear them??I recently heard about a girl of class 9 from my school carrying alcohol..It is beyond appalling!Why is there such a rush to grow up?? My point is, please be proud of who you are. Has it never occurred to you that there are probably poeple who watch you from the sidelines seriously looking up to you, getting inspired by things you??

The white Gloved moon-walker will always remain alive in our hearts for who he was. The "Thriller" who left us "speechless" for 44 years of his life will continue being an icon inspiring generations that follow to keep his legacy alive by giving all that they have to music and to the world.

Does this even make sense?Probably not. Let the dead live as good people in our hearts. He loved and lost. He cared about children and was called a pedophile. He claimed to have a skin disorder and the world called him plastic. He showed off his new born baby to the public from the balcony of his house and tabloids charged him with child abuse...I don't know him but I respect him.
Michael Jackson, take a Bow.

Failure

2009-11-06T07:39:00.000-08:00

This is an old something i wrote in my diary. I do not know why I'm even posting it.
*mental note : There's a difference Rhea, between a diary and a Blog !*

"It will be okay", " I know how you feel",
Are the lines i hate, because the news is unreal.

Time slows down and your caught in vacuum,
When all you want is to be locked alone in your room.

You dream so much, then watch it crashing down
You lose hope and courage to fight against that frown.

I knew who I was ; took pride in being me
But self-doubt, despair and cowardice made the new Ree.

The girl in the mirror is not someone I know,
Where are the sparkling eyes and energy i saw long ago??

Spare me from the ordeal of being what I fear
I will not be weak and refuse to shed another tear!

As i write this, me eyes well up again..
Pardon me God, but I don't like your new game.

There Was A Girl

2009-11-06T05:46:00.000-08:00

"You may say I'm a dreamer,but I'm not the only one" -John Lennon.

Once upon a time there lived a girl.Like every other little girl she longed for that cottage with an enchanting garden, adorned with vividly colorful flowers, where the sun always smiled upon her and her family, while a gentle stream silently gushes past her home, carrying with it leaves, flowers, pebbles , sand and limitless happiness as it flows towards its destination.

The girl knew of nothing but kindness, gaiety, peace, beauty, the smell of books, the tinkle of laughter, the sound of music, the smile on her tiny sister's face and the unconditional love of her parents : that simple, uncomplicated, delightful life.

But then, she grew up.

Life ceased to be a fairytale.It became a fast-paced novel filled with twists and turns. Happiness began to be equated with the marks you score,the college you go to,the clothes you wear, places you frequent.Everything started to turn very conditional. A rat-race where success and money are proportional to happiness. Competition becomes the key mantra. With everybody vying to be number one, hungry for fame and fortune, we tend to race with life. Hurrying forward, we miss out on the smell of flowers, the tweet of birds--those little things that make us smile.

The girl fears that she's turning into Them. She forgets about the cottage with the smiling sun, the glistening river and the laughs. Life begins to question her about her capabilities, forcing her to snap out of the fairytale, smashing the rose tinted glass she has comfortably viewed life through. People become foes easier than friends, friends turn into acquaintances within moments, selfishness and avarice are Satan's forms that possess both young and old.Hope begins to fade away.The girl who knew none of this in her erstwhile sheltered life, is struck by bewilderment. The thought - "are we fighting the race of life all by ourselves?" baffles her.

Then she takes a deep breath, finding solace in her conversations with God and comes up with a revelation.

She looks around and guess what she observes? The vivid flowers, only more exotic, with butterflies sucking at them, the sun cheerfully waving at her again, dogs looking up loyally and lovingly at her without even knowing who she is, the sounds of music, the thrill of moving ahead in life, watching her sister blossom into a lady and the most incredible thing- her parents being just as loving, beautiful and caring as she always remembered. She has a set of friends who she knows she will grow old with. She has dreams she cannot wait to fulfill and the courage to fight back when life tests her.

No, she is not like Them at all , she smiles. She is just older, enriched with experience, hungry for more, and has a chest of memories and folks to keep her flowing through life like that glistening river of her utopia as she inches closer to her dreams.

"Life is full of beauty. Notice it. Notice the bumble bee, the small child, and the smiling faces. Smell the rain, and feel the wind. Live your life to the fullest potential, and fight for your dreams"- Ashley Smith.
Life is a beautiful gift given to you by your parents and embellishing it is in your hands. Relish the little things that come your way. The day you stop looking for reasons to be happy, you will see how easily it finds you.