hopscotch

I have been reading a lot about Anuja Chauhan, the one who came up with the now famous Pepsi tagline – Nothing official about it! She is the newest entrant, it seems, to the chick lit genre. I have not read chick lit, so I wasn't sure what to expect. References to marriages, good daughters, bad daughters....and Men. Men you can swoon over. Is that what one finds in chick lit? I still don't know. I did read Chauhan's 'Those pricey Thakur girls', but I am not wiser to know if it qualifies the tag of chick-lit genre. Anyway, my reason for picking up the book, was purely personal. The book is set in the 80s, the decade in which I was born. And, it has a DD newsreader and a print journalist in conflict mode. Endearing, lost and looking for honest, kind and brave man, Debjani Thakur finds herself in love with Dylan Singh Shekawat. He of the Manglorean Christian and Rajput parentage and the fearless, young advocate of “Truth. Balance. Courage”, (motto of the paper he w

I chanced on "Miracle" on Zee Studio last evening. It's the movie on which Chak De! India is based, or to put it more blunty - Chak De! India was "inspired" by Miracle. Out and out copy. Okay, there are a few differences - it's US vs Soviet conflict playing in the background; the coach is not battling charges of  being a "traitor"; Herb Brooks almost made it to the 1960 US Olympics team, but was cut out in the last week before the Games. He is chosen to coach the US Ice Hockey Team, in times when the country's morale has been bruised and hurt; the Soviets appear invincible. And, the boys he is leading belong to rival Universities - Minnesota and Boston. In the Indian version, we have the States. The "India" call which set the mood for Chak De...came in much later in Miracle. I found this movie a lot better - you can see for yourself that SRK's mannerisms, posturing is based on the Brooks guy. The former is more "aggro&qu

Thankfully, I ended my movie drought after watching, Listen...Amaya first and then Special Chabbis. First..Listen...Amaya. I am betting that those who had gathered to watch the movie in the half-empty hall (or half-full, depends on how you see the world) had come for Deepti Naval and Farooque Shaikh magic. The magic is there, alright, but I have two serious objections about two words in the movie - about which the movie is incidentally based on. "Modern" is one word and "Mature" is another. I would have replaced Modern with "Liberal" and Mature with "sensitivity". Leela (Deepti Naval) and Jai Sinha or Jazz as he is called (Farooque Shaikh) are widowers. Leela runs a coffee shop cum book shop called "Book a cafe". And, Jazz is an amateur photographer, capturing pics of Leela and her daughter, Amaya (Swara Bhaskar) and also reminscing about his wife and daughter, Aditi killed in an accident. The two find love again after a long tim

Some more changes have been made. There's a ramp now to help the senior citizens climb the steps This is how the garden looks now The garden wasn't so neat and didn't have a manicured look when my mother was alive and kicking I am buried under an avalanche of work. At times like this, I wish I was back home, in my room (now no longer mine) and sleep and sleep. But, since I can't, I tried visualising that I was back home. My home. How it has changed! Now that I pause to think, I can see, recall how it looked - initially a cement structure. I remember there's a pic of my mother sitting on the steps leading to the house. In the background is a ladder resting against the parapet of the terrace. Then, I remember the house being painted. Red colour? I am not quite sure. There's another picture of Aju, Abhi (my friends and rakhi-brothers) and I standing on the veranda looking at...I don't know what. The landscape was very "dry". No trees a

I didn't want to write this blog. I have done a lot of FB activism, on you know what. Being in media, you really can't escape unpleasant truths. So, Damini, Nirbhaya (whatever your name is...my girl) I am shocked about what happened to you. When the first news came in, I dismissed it of as another rape case. It's only when I read about the mutilation of your genitals, that I felt helpless anger rising within me. And, sadness too. I have been crying silent tears every day since then. I could have been in your place, you know. Eight years ago, my friend (girl) and I, had hopped into a DTC bus. Only two of us. It was 7 in the evening. I had rejoiced; only someone using public transport in Mumbai and Pune can understand my joy at having bagged a vacant seat. In this case we had the bus to ourselves - empty. We could have sat wherever we wanted. My friend, smarter than I, quickly caught on what the empty bus meant. Her fear was infectious. We stood near the door, ready to j

Watched English Vinglish the other day on TV. As with everyone else (mothers and daughters in particular), I was reminded of couple of incidents from my childhood, when I didn't accord my mother any particular importance. I thought her to be very dowdy, very controlling, very intrusive, never letting me "grow up". It was only after her outburst, which did us both good, did I realise that okay, Mataji isn't some limbu-timbu. I can't remember what triggered it, but I had made some disparaging remark over her education and grades. Never one to take audacity lying down, least of all, her half-baked daughter's, Mataji brought out carefully rolled sheets of her degree and convocation. "When I appeared for MA exam, your elder sister was sitting in the corridor, of the college, waiting for me to finish my paper and come out. A sweepress was taking care of my girl...your elder brother was at home, with your father....." Hearing all that I was chastened a

Okay. Have to scribble something as there are too many voices in my brain, clamouring and drowning out the din of the outside world. So those sitting around me, will find me in hermit-like mood; remote and fidgety. Remote, as in, others cannot approach me. Fidgety because too many things happening in my brain. I can actually imagine the thought wires criss-crossing, and becoming one messy tangle. What am I supposed to untangle and relax? Here are my usual solutions: watch a movie. With no one for company. In my moods like this, I prefer to sit and watch the film alone. No popcorn either. And, which movies would make it to my companion list? Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar (no), Jodhaa Akbar (no), Yuva....(some bits, yes), Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara (maybe yes), Andaz Apna Apna (uhhh) Swades (YESSSSSSS). I don't know why, but when I am down and out, and need to calm myself, I invariably reach out for Swades, which in some people's opinion is a perfect recipe for sad documentary. I don