The Indian Railways: A Lifeline that became a Landmine

When the first railway track was laid down in India in 1853 between Mumbai and Thane, it spelt an occasion for celebration. Suddenly, the country was experiencing a momentous industrial high. The Times of India reported this historical event hailing the dawn of a new age in British-governed India as quoted here: “Nothing could’ve been more magnificent than the train of 20 enormous carriages with their three stupendous engines, all spick and span new, with the most perfect forms engineering could suggest, and the most beautiful tints taste could impart, occupying a line from first to last on close to four hundred feet.”

Indians were now invited to be part of the newfound luxury of covering long distances comfortably, seamlessly and elegantly, nursing a ‘cuppa’ while they rode to their destination, without getting their feet muddy, their belongings misplaced or their addresses mixed up. If there are notable inclusions of progress that the British regime ushered into a country reduced to serving as a colony under its persuasive, dominant and monopolistic rule, one of them had to be this. To quote a British official who commented on the occasion of the Indian railway’s inauguration, “This was not the triumph of nation over nation, of race over race, of man over his fellow man. It was the triumph of mind, of matter, of patience and perseverance.”

A lot has happened since then, to put it mildly. The British ouster from its colonial stronghold in the Indian sub-continent, the partition of India, the assassination of Gandhi, the composition of the Constitution of Free India, the UN charter, the introduction of birth contraceptives, boybands, Indipop, item songs, India’s tryst with the global economy, the internet, Game Of Thrones….and so on.

The world is now a writhing seven-legged creature stuck in a claustrophobic oyster. Even the length and breadth of the seven continents cannot keep in check the burgeoning population that it breeds. With China to transfer the title of ‘World’s most populated country’ to its closest competitor India (as soon as 2022 if the experts are to be believed), there definitely seems to be a tidal wave ahead that India must finally grapple and come to terms with. Overpopulation! A word that has clearly crippled the progress that India deserves and has always been striving towards. Our country is a land of contradictions and for every scheming despot, corrupt politician, bigot, religious zealot and serial criminal, there is an equally laudable scientist, literary figure, astute leader, honest farmer, meritorious intelligentsia, accomplished artist or nation-loving martyr worth raising a salute to.  The antics and blunders of the miscreants however often mar and besmirch the laurels of the achievers.  So for every step that this country has taken in the direction of development, it has also dragged in disaster due to the lackadaisical, irresponsible and insouciant nature of the aam aadmi.

The aam aadmi or the common man wants progress but is quick to misuse and misinterpret it. The common man wants a free public toilet but is too pre-occupied to clean up his mess, he wants protests against discrimination but is too proud to personally fraternise with ‘the others’, he wants financial aid but is too short-sighted to realise that a wedding can be a small-budget affair. So yes, coming back to the railways and how they became the modern motif of civilization on the move, steam may have been replaced by diesel and electricity when it comes to fuelling the wheels of locomotion in the current century but even the rail tracks have become the new utilitarian means to innovative ends.

If you have ever lived in Mumbai, the birthplace of this locomotive landmark, railway tracks are often the hotbed of activity of all kinds. People have discovered new ways of making them multi-purpose in their functional existence. Just so that the government doesn’t feel that using so much of the country’s arterial landscape to simply laying tracks for trains is not worth its coffers’ expenditure, they are used for every other mundane purpose as well- performing daily ablutions, jaywalking as a time-effective way to bridge the gap between platforms and as a recent tragedy would indicate, as extended grounds for spectators to spread out in to behold a visual and aural display of festivities.

After all, why must this absolutely wonderful manifestation of human genius be relegated to being a mere pathway for the urban transport system that it was originally meant for?

Illegal encroachment and the Indian psyche of ‘chalta hai’ means that we are unstoppable when it comes to not abiding by a standard code of safety. How else do you explain having to fine people who sit on top of trains to commute to work daily, or those who hang out of doors and windows, precariously holding onto a fellow-passenger’s shirt, jumping out of moving trains or the lakhs of people who continue to cross the rail tracks everyday ‘to get to the other side’ and save some precious minutes of their lives, day after day? You cannot refute the undeniable truth of the matter which is that the common man has a certain nonchalance when it comes to protecting his own self from imminent danger even when it is staring him right in the face. What is this devil-may-care attitude that makes us stand in front of a wild animal every day and then one day blame the carnivore for making a prey out of the so-called ‘innocent’ victim?

In a city in North India that is still reeling in the aftermath of a recent rail tragedy that hit it, Dussehra celebrations are held every year with hundreds of spectators congregating at the designated spot to revel in its glory. To have them spill over onto the rail tracks is an annual occurrence and not a one-off, as clarified by local residents themselves. The incident has snowballed into a political blame game with each participating player trying to identify one scapegoat to nail on the wall- the train driver, the local police, the railway administration or the ruling state government. One can’t help but wonder if an accusing finger is being wagged at the trains for running on schedule on a track meant for it. My question is, why must the common man be policed to abide by rules for his own safety- why must we be told to wear helmets, not drink and drive, not take speed near a school, not play a loudspeaker near a silent zone, not park our cars in the middle of the road, not throw a banana peel on the footpath, not run in to a moving train….and who is to be blamed for the loss of lives when such accidents occur day after day?

I wouldn’t want to stand on a railway track to witness a public display of fireworks, even if someone paid me to do it. It doesn’t take a wise person to make that decision. Unfortunately, common sense is a sense uncommon to the common man in India. As we continue to try and find the cat who must be billed for a crime, self-perpetuated by the common man himself, the railways that were originally meant to be a lifeline to boost the country’s economy, is being turned in to a demonic landmine that will spew debris on everyone involved, in its wake.

Driving a point two feet deep

I generally think we don’t give our feet the respect they deserve most of the time. Yes, we go shopping for shoes all the time, pride ourselves on those 22 pairs of footwear we may use to drape them up, make sure we make pedicure appointments and are happily dolling them up in a thousand shades of nail paint (if you are the fairer sex mostly) but really is that all? I mean what about all those times when we end up using not-so-flattering adjectives to refer to feet- smelly, dirty and unholy? Remember all those times when your Mom told you off when you touched your books accidentally with your foot? Or how it is generally considered disrespectful to sit with your feet up on a chair? Poor feet, like they don’t deserve to chill! To cut a long story short, this ill-treatment and the constant pressure of being inferior is the bane of our feet’s measly lives. One can almost associate it with a waging class war among the different body parts where the brain commands supremacy for enjoying the topmost position in the physiological hierarchy of the human anatomy followed by the heart, stomach, the pelvis and then finally, way down below those lowly, neglected and down-trodden feet. One can actually explain the ancient caste system that our country has been practising for a thousand years by depicting it through our various body parts and why not? The Brahmins have always looked upon themselves to serve as the society’s intellect and conscience, primary functions of the brain. The Kshatriyas are the chest- denoting valour and a heart swelling with pride. The Vaishnavas can be the hand, dealing in the trade of goods and services or exchange of hands. The Shudras are the feet, often allowed in public only when covered and hidden, and relegated to unjust terms such as ‘dirty’ and ‘unholy’. 

All these metaphorical explorations aside, I myself realised the true worth of my feet only when they became dysfunctional through a couple of minor accidents. So if you have ever had a foot fractured you would know what I am talking about. I had the misfortune to crack not one, not two but three toes in between the biggest and smallest toes in my left foot not so long ago. Not only did this translate into an excruciating pain in the foot every time I even dared to land its sole on any surface but it also meant wrapping it up in bright blue plaster that would render it immobile and pretty much out of action for a month. Of course, accidents aren’t deliberately acted upon and I would have never intentionally hurt the poor foot but the fact that it was now in abject misery stupefied me. It had never really struck me that I would be dependent on a crutch or someone to hold me up to attend to nature’s call. How I had taken it for granted that I can walk thanks to my foot! The accident enabled me to get some perspective two feet deep. 

I was forced to acknowledge the worth of the two most underestimated parts of my body- the reason why we are able to stay rooted to our earthly existence and why we don’t simply topple off. Together, they suddenly struck me as the sheer foundation which enables us to balance and speed up our pace of life as per our preference. Finally, it dawned on me that if not for our feet, we would be stationary, stagnant, stilted, stunted, unable to mobilise our energies and our thoughts through our actions or movement, unable to walk the talk. Suddenly, a deep sense of gratitude flowed through me for this precious gift we are born with and it struck me how we are so indifferent to those who are differently abled- moving through life without these gifts and yet, doing as well as our so-called normal selves if not better. 

Once my feet were back in action healed from the fracture, I felt like a baby reborn. I caressed my recently healed foot, imagining the newly grown tissues, the throbbing nerves, the delicate veins that fueled it and the gentle bones that traced their own intricate architecture within this external encasing. There it was, my foot reborn. I could stand again, dance again, exercise again and even jump for joy like my three-year-old kid. I knew I was blessed, privileged and lucky to be whole again. Never again would I doubt the significance of my foot, neglect its utility and function or take it for granted. 

So while riding in the metro one day, I happened to look down at my feet, and remember feeling so happy that I could stand like this. This was the kind of revelation the fractured foot had made to me, how lightly I had thought I could take life, standing on the balls of my feet when actually that mere act meant the flexing of bones, muscles and nerves so that I could assume such a stance. I looked at the pearly white nails and reminded myself that it was time to coat some paint over them to make them look better and more beautiful. Suddenly, though the train lurched and I was pushed back to the world around me, only to experience a rush of pain concentrated on the big toe of my right foot. I looked down, unable to detect any visible injury but the pain worsened with every passing minute. I looked up to see the poker face of a teenage girl, guiltless and without remorse. She looked like she couldn’t care less that she had just nearly mangled the toe of a perfectly healthy person just a few seconds ago. I looked down at my foot again and it throbbed with self-pity this time, pained further at the sheer insouciance of the perpetrator of the injury. I wondered how people had become so rude in this generation of teens, not caring to even apologise for an accident it caused, even though unintentionally. All the way back home, the night of the accident and the one after that, pain coursed through the toe, disabling my body from concentrating on sleep or work. I applied balm on it, creamed its surface with an anti-injury ointment and wondered if I had experienced a second fracture- this time on the right foot? Was this a sign from God that I was to be punished for some vile disservice I had done to my limbs waist down? 

All I knew is the terrible pain gave way to the gradual uprooting of the injured toenail. Who knew some unruly teenager’s stamping on my foot would lead to this mishap? So now recently jolted into looking at my right foot in a new light, I am seeing it through the uneven, misshapen, unsure growth of a new-formed nail. As I  marvel at the regenerative strength of the human body, I still travel by metro, I still savour the fact that I have two functional feet albeit one with a weird-looking toenail, and I celebrate my right to free locomotion all the time. After all, life is all about enriching one’s perspective of survival, one foot at a time. 

A slice of American pie

America --- the country where dreams are made, where epic stories come to life, where Hollywood brews its glamourous concoctions while Silicon Valley rolls out the technological advances the rest of the world follows, where fashion gets made with a plunging neckline and where every city has lent its name to countless movie backdrops, where the White House has played host to turning the pages of history and whose each successive President is always making headlines, for reasons right and wrong. 

Love it or hate it, you cannot ignore the country Childish Gambino represented in his hit song ‘This is America' in recent times. Yes, there's so much that we would not like to talk about when glorifying the US- the racist slurs, the blatant gun shoot-outs, 9/11 or Trump. That however, doesn't take away from the kind of impact America has made on the lives of countless people who are not even citizens of that country- whether through its politics, history, trade, environmental policies, entertainment, lifestyle or fashion, we all know we have been victims of its flavour, in more ways than one. 

So how do writers who are constantly seeking new experiences to channelise their imagination stay unfazed by the world leader's all-encompassing influence on human lives, attitudes and other ethnic communities? Three books opened my eyes to this mammoth country that bears down on every other nation thanks to its power and potential. These stories take you to territories no newspaper or journal can claim to explore and compels you to look at it through the eyes of an outsider without demeaning or degrading the essence of American life and its people. These writers pen down characters who have adopted the American way of life, found meaning and purpose by embracing a new culture and freedom and lived to tell the story. These characters are innocent and manipulative at the same time, constantly searching for their identity amidst the vast differences they encounter between their own traditional faith and the modern outlook that they are bound to follow. 

Inscrutable Americans by Anurag Mathur 

This book written in the early 1990s may be rather dated for readers of 2018, but when I read it as a student on a friend's recommendation, I was in college, had never been to the US and knew little about it beyond its stereotypical identity of the land of burgers, colas and the Statue of Liberty. Mathur draws from his own observations of life in America, having lived there for more than a couple of years before he wrote this book. He throws us in the midst of a small university campus in the US and adds enough shock value for a rural novice about the American way of life. He cleverly picks a boy from the small town of Jajau, Madhya Pradesh to give a wide-eyed version of the American lifestyle, its explicit approach to all things sexual and its surprisingly amiable people. Relatively free from the racial bias that often surfaces in such books, protagonist Gopal is a 21-year-old with ambitions of clearing a chemical engineering course and returning to India, ‘well-qualified' in more ways than one. His American friend Randy is determined to see that he doesn't return a virgin, and this dream is fulfilled, quite unexpectedly, just like America springs surprises for young Gopal on every step of his way. With no real narrative or growth in the story, this novel is more anecdotal in nature and not to be taken as a reliable Indian's guide to ‘Amreeka'. What has stayed with me about this book however, is its ability to draw out parallels between both countries, without passing judgement. Bogged down by the moral grounding of his Indian roots, Gopal struggles to give vent to his desire to ‘graduate' from a boy to a man. He stumbles, rises and survives through his varied experiences within the cultural cacophony that enmeshes him in a foreign land. Gleefully interspersed with Gopal's default English vocabulary, his limited understanding of western ideas and concepts, and his innocent rendition of a superpower that changes him forever, Inscrutable Americans packs a comical punch. It makes us realise that people on both sides can, in fact, be inscrutable, depending on which way you choose to look at them. 

Why we should still be reading this --- because millions of students in India still travel to be a part of this exhilarating, aspirational and often life-changing dream that is America. In that sense, Mathur's book still remains relevant.

Welcome to Americastan by Jabeen Akhtar

Bringing out the struggle of a first generation Pakistani-American settled in North Carolina with her family, is 27-year-old Samira, who has recently lost her job and been dumped by her boyfriend at the beginning of this book. What happens when you are an Asian from the wrong side of the planet, post 9/11? Do Americans accept a Muslim immigrant family into its fold without casting an accusing finger at the nation that breeds terrorists? Do Pakistanis eventually become more American in their ways than they would want to admit to, after being exposed to the liberal (read immoral) ways of the majority around them? As an author writing for her chick lit reading audience, Akhtar fails to rise to the occasion of breaking stereotypes about Asians living in America. We realise early in the day that her protagonist Samira is more wannabe American than typical American with her quest of landing a gora boyfriend, her drinking binges, her inability to relate to her parents and her indifference to all things religious or orthodox. What gives the book its share of credit however, is that it doesn't try to be taken too seriously. We aren't asked to sympathise with Samira or her parents but to ride along with them in this happy-go-lucky tale of fates that grapple with their American bearings. Her supporting characters like the judgement-passing mother, the gaming-obsessed brother Khalid or the long-distant cousin from Pakistan, who seeks out an arranged marriage with Samira in his own conservative way are all idiosyncratic, hilarious and wittily sketched. The story doesn't aim at hailing the American way of life but gleefully captures the Americanisation of its primary characters without supporting it as the right approach to ‘fitting in'. It is a contemporary take on a Pakistani trying to live past the fear of being categorised as a terror suspect merely because of her origin and a God-fearing, burqa-clad, Quran spouting extremist. Unfortunately, she becomes a caricature of all things wrong with the American youth as a result but there is hope that she learns from her follies in the end and that is the silver lining readers will take home with them.

Why should you be reading it?

If you liked East is East, you will like this book's confused take on all things desi and videsi. 

Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche

Americanah can be read in two ways, as the binding love story of Ifemelu and Obinze or as a portrait of an African who lands in America to embrace the progressive outlook she seeks to find here as a woman, as a student and as a resident of another race. The book therefore, at a deeper level, is an intrinsic study of the conflicting ideals of modern Africa and America and their take on each other's cultural and social perceptions.  The book finds its strength from its principal character, Ifemelu who has a distinct, independent and engaging voice, powerful in its logic and incisive in its observations about life. Her poignant ability to understand the struggles of African immigrants and how she strives to find pride in her identity as a black woman amidst the opposing forces around her forms the crux of the tale. Both Obinze and Ifemelu make their way through their adventure in the UK and the US respectively, only to return to Nigeria, wisened and hardened to the forces of truth and fate, and yet they continue to try and write the pages of their future and find happiness together. The West is not painted out to be the outright villain here, neither is Nigeria thrust down to being a suffering and apathetic nation. Adiche's sensitivity towards universal themes of love, longing and social alienation through the aspiring, urban youth of Nigeria is striking. Adiche is unpretentious in her opinions about the West or her own Nigerian roots, she is unforgiving about the apprehensions of those who try to fit into the margins of the ‘ruling whites' and insightful in her portrayal of human emotions and desires. 

Why should you be reading it? 

The book is oh-so-feminist without flagging down the man who makes Ifemelu's heart beat fast. It protests the hypocrisy that is endemic to well-bred gentry whether in a developed or developing country, it breaks stereotypes about racial bias and is still tender in its treatment of love and of those who seek happiness through it.

Travelling the world, one page at a time

I am no literary critic and this post is really a very subjective reading of modern literature. I still feel compelled to write this as I always hope that more people should be encouraged to read and open their minds and hearts towards other races, castes, communities, cultures and so on. The world needs all the tolerance and sensitivity it can get at a time when mistrust and misgivings rule our conscience, blurring the lines of what is right and wrong, acceptable and unacceptable. In the recent past, a bunch of books  opened up my world view to places we barely get to visit and even if we do, we only look at them through our rose-tinted shades or through the ‘outsider’s perspective’. So if you haven’t already got your hands on these gems, I suggest you do and challenge your stereo-typical visions of countries as varied as China, Nigeria, Turkey and Saudi Arabia and let authors as diverse as chalk and cheese, welcome us to their homelands with open arms and mighty hearts.

Say you’re one of them- Uwem Akpan

I had no idea what to expect when I got my hands on this book and thought it would be nice to read from Africa’s rich treasure trove of stories, penned with a conviction that is authentic, sensitive and striking in its expression. Worded by a Nigerian Jesuit priest who is as modern in his sensibilities as any of us but is passionate about highlighting the atrocities that have bogged down generations of African children, Uwem Akpan’s stories are both heart-wrenching and unique. Does human cruelty cripple our ability to think beyond our own survival or does it make us that much more resolute in our struggle for survival amidst all odds? Akpan uses the most poignant way of story-telling, we see each story unfurl its pain and problems through the honest and innocent eyes of a child. Africa has long remained a continent that has been misinterpreted and dismissed as being inferior thanks to its overwhelming images of poverty, strife and apathy. Uwem Akpan opens the doors of his beloved land to us outsiders, till we can shy away no more from shedding our inhibitions and confronting the demons that lie within each of us.

"I think fiction allows us to sit for a while with people we would rather not meet."- Uwem Akpan

The Museum of Innocence- Orhan Pamuk 

Orhan Pamuk’s Museum of Innocence does for Turkey what Khaled Hosseini did with The Kiterunner for Afghanistan. As someone unfamiliar with the craggy terrain that is Afghanistan, only looking at it through the journalists’ lens showing war-stricken and impoverished citizens under the Taliban regime, Khaled Hosseini humanised the whole population for us in a way no news story could match up to. Orhan Pamuk’s novel, although essentially a tear-jerking love story, unleashes a whole gamut of previously unknown cultural nuances of Istanbul, mostly sold to us through touristy postcard representations of old domes, minarets and romanticised artefacts. We are suddenly thrown in to the claustrophobic and pretentious cauldron of champagne glass-clinking Turkish families who are vying for suitable marriage bonds between themselves. Every new evenly-matched couple is given a nod, constantly being subjected to societal pressures of marriage while the couple itself tries to get to know each other intimately. Within this haloed circle, there is no room for dalliances, second thoughts or unconventional beginnings. So just when you think Kemal and Sibel are a match made in heaven, enters Fusun, the girl who is a poor cousin to aristocratic Kemal and the girl who will shatter all his realities with the promise of a passionate love affair. It is almost pitiable how Kemal then unwittingly steers himself into undertaking a downhill ride that will only pull him deeper in to the dark caverns of loneliness, tragic longing, social withdrawal and eventually deprivation. The Museum of Innocence is not meant for those who pay little heed to the pain of unrequited love or for those who are looking for gratifyingly mushy love stories. In stead, it rips apart the farcical promise of socially-accepted relationships to look beyond our morally constructed matrix of propriety and status.

"People only tell lies when there is something they are terribly frightened of losing."

The Bonesetter’s Daughter- Amy Tan

If you have a mother who was born in an era that saw India win its independence, you will relate to Amy Tan’s amazingly sharp potrayal of mother-daughter relationships. As millennials used to India’s globalisation days, we hardly let bygone tragedies that might have touched our elders like the partition bother our smug and sheltered existence. We are hassled by our parents’ inability to come to grips with technology and social media, little aware that they might be similarly bothered by our reluctance to embrace their past. The Bonesetter’s Daughter makes us stare in the face of a protagonist coping with her aging mother who is herself grappling with Alzheimer’s and for whom a declaration of suicide is just a whine away. But while this book threatens to analyse your own discomfiture with all things old, yes including your own parents, it also transports you back to rural China. The narrative suddenly comes to life, full of ancient fallacies, incidents that could be part of dramatic folklore and the rendition of a personal tragedy with a historical flourish rooted in the Japanese conquest and the civil war. If you come out of this a tad more tolerant to those who belong to another generation than you and a lot more respectful of their experiences and beliefs, know that it is Amy Tan’s magic weaving over you through her exotic spell.

That was how dishonesty and betrayal started, not in big lies but in small secrets.

Girls of Riyadh- Rajaa Alsanea

Take a trip to the little-explored city of Riyadh, through the omniscient eyes of writer Rajaa Alsanea. This book is our peek into the world of the upper crust of Saudi society, where men and women try to push their social and cultural boundaries, but are often stunted by the traditional dogma that dictates it. Four friends Gamrah, Sadeem, Michelle and Lamas lead you in to an often misunderstood and rarely demystified foreign land and yet make you relate to them through their lives, the choices they make and the fates they encounter. Often labelled the Arab version of Sex and the City, and highly debated as being disrespectful to its subject and Saudi Arabian ethics and values, I read this book barely knowing about the seismic ripples it created in the upper echelons of Riyadhi society or how photocopies of the book were being circulated for as much as $500 after its release. This is not a book that is written to provoke the bourgeosie. It does not pretend to be a revolutionary indictment either by preaching against the predominant value system. It is just a very frank, humourous and witty take on the lives of four women who are trying their best to marry the principles they were brought up on to the liberated world-view that the western civilisation has brought them closer to. This is a book that is highly recommended for male readers who shouldn't be misled by its name and imagine feminism being shoved down their throats while reading it. It is a book that will sensitise you towards the privilege of getting a clear advantage in the conflict between modern-orthodox ideologies, a fact that resonates till date in urban India as well.

The Pihu Diary: The Tricksy Tales of a Thrifty Three Year Old

Once a kid turns two, most parents are bound to suffer the first pangs of his or her michievous ways- either the kid is falling over a misplaced piece of furniture or toppling it in glee. However, such are not the travails of a parent who has the more tricky task of bringing up a three year old. For all the curiosity and natural agility that a two year old manifests, once he or she turns three, comes the realisation that she has a mind of her own. Now while that may come as good news, it often means she learns to control it and direct it to achieve her purpose, however lop-sided or illogical it may be. Ever seen parents who are otherwise believed or acknowledged to be sensible become putty in the hands of their three year old and subject themselves to behaviour ranging from the illogical to the impractical? So if you see a father of sizeable girth trying to dive in to a pool only to hear his kid squeal in delight, there! That’s what I am talking about. Learning to talk and developing language skills not only help a kid at three communicate but also convince his dear parents that he is the complete antithesis of unmoulded clay you are left with to shape up. In fact, it is quite the opposite. If you have seen fathers becoming calmer people after fatherhood or mothers becoming more subservient after motherhood, rest assured that they have a three year old mastering the art of ‘slow and steady persuasion’. Here’s how Pihu does it and yes, like any other duty-bound parent, this comes with a self-acknoweldgement of defeat at the hands of a two feet-something kid who came and invaded my world not so long ago.

1)      “But you told me you would”…this is a common refrain that Pihu has armed herself with everytime she knows she wants to do something we may not approve of or want to engage in. So if she wants to go out, she will begin her line with “But you told me you would take me out...” When we disagree or nullify that claim, out comes the persistence that She: We did…Me: No, we didn’t…She: Did too….Me: No…She: Yes…Me: Not at all…She: So then why did you say it?….till you say what the heck, and go ahead and do it anyway.

2)      “I want something badly”….This is usually on occasion of being in the presence of that very thing- standing strategically at a juice centre, a shop that displays chocolates or chips, a toy car ride, or a Peppa Pig soft toy rack. Used usually when you are out shopping at the supermarket or strolling through a mall, window-shopping. The conversation goes: I want something. What do you want? Something. What something? Something, just give me something….You mean anything? No no something. (Only the something is right in your face and you will be disqualified in the contest for Ideal Parenthood for not knowing better so not surprisingly, you give in and identify that ‘something’ sooner than later and hand it over meekly, like you always planned to give it anyway).

3)      “But Granny/Daddy/Mamma loves me!” Love….that tender little emotion that we all want to feel and kids usually get an abundance of, from all quarters. So if Pihu wants to go to a particular relative’s place, and we don’t really see a reason for it, she will use this ace card. So you say, I am going over to grandma’s place. You needn’t come. She: But why? Me: Because I am going alone. You can stay here with Dad. She: No but I want to go. Me: Why? She: Because Granny loves me. Me: Hmmm…ok! Works best when used to get to your doting grandparents or indulgent aunts/uncles or to get your parents to do you a favour.

4)      “This one is my favourite.” So there is a favourite toy she wants to go to sleep with, a pet bottle she wants to drink water from or a yellow spoon that she must use to eat. Try making the kid comply with you if you don’t have these things ready when you want her to do your bidding and you have a rough ride ahead. If you want your kids to follow your directions…errrr…requests in most cases, ply them with their favourites. They work wonders on a difficult day.

5)      “I have to watch Baby TV…” after I brush my teeth. Can I watch Baby TV after breakfast? No don’t switch channels, I am watching Baby TV. Oh no, that’s my favourite show on Baby TV, you can’t change the channel now. No, I don’t like this show, why do you keep watching it again and again? (It’s a different episode everyday you say). You should watch Baby TV. Why don’t you watch Baby TV? I am done with homework, let’s watch Baby TV. (With parents this daft, the kid has no way out but to leave subtlety to the winds. By the way, any guesses as to what her favourite channel may be?)

6)      Running around the bush and still getting her way: Me: Why do you like Peppa Pig so much? She: She is pink in colour. Me: Wow, so you like pink. She: Yes I do. (Pause) You’ve seen that rabbit’s tongue on TV. Me: No. She: It’s red in colour. I like red too. I want a red cake for my birthday. Me: Nice. And how about a birthday dress? She: Yes, that too in red. Me: Of course. Me: What colour pencil do you like? She: Red. Me: Pencil box? She: Red. Me: Eraser? She: Red. Me: School bag? She: Red Me: Lunch box? She: Red.  Me: Flowers? She: Red.  Me: Hair  band? She: Red.  Me: Socks? She: Red. Me: Ice cream? She: (exasperated) Red. Me: Shoes? She: I SAID RED! This could go on leaving me to wonder what I did to start all this invasion of red in the first place. On second thoughts, it’s also the colour of love, right? I might as well make my peace with it.

How Alia rode the Highway to Udta Punjab and got the Audience Raazi!

Yes, yes Bollywood is a boiling cauldron of nepotism. If you ever nursed dreams of a career as an actor, and if you are still ruing why you weren’t born to Karan Johar, you can suck it up, take it in your stride or knock your head on the wall. The truth is it’s here to stay and let’s not make sweeping statements like it prevails in every industry because even if it does, it doesn’t justify succumbing to the pressure of following the herd. So firstly, let’s start by doffing our hats to all those filmmakers who go beyond the tried and tested and actually mentor and launch non-star kids. Having acknowledged this tribe, since the industry is teeming with star kids anyway, let us now look at some who have actually hit the jackpot. While there is a horde of stars who can thank their genes, surnames and privileged backgrounds for their launch and a longer innings than outsiders, we look at two girls who have risen above the ranks at breakneck speed, and managed to not only pave their way to get noticed but have also won adulation in the process. One of them in fact is actually reaping the benefits of going beyond all the prejudice levelled against her to please both the critics and the masses. Having made their debuts almost around the same time, the reason I am pitting them against each other is to also prove how sometimes it is not merely the banners you are working under, the marketing that goes in to glossing over an average caper or which designer is doing your wardrobe but much more that finally gets you the accolades. Pitch powerhouse talent to a well-etched story and voila! A gifted actor is born and by the end of this post, you will know who’s beaten whom, fair and square.

So here’s a brief look at the career graphs of Alia Bhatt and Shraddha Kapoor to see how you need much more than just a Business Class pass to make it big in Bollywood.

Shraddha made her humble debut in a film that starred Amitabh Bachchan, Madhavan and (low whistle!) Ben Kingsley called Teen Patti in 2010. Suffice it to say that the film did nothing to get her noticed, exacerbating her bad luck by its dismal failure at the box-office. She followed this up with another dampener Luv ka The End the next year which sank without a trace, once more doing nothing for establishing her star presence. 2013 turned her fate in favour of the box-office with Aashiqui 2 which served as a relaunch vehicle opposite Aditya Roy Kapur. The film released under the banner of Vishesh Films the patrons of which are the Bhatt brothers- Mahesh and Mukesh Bhatt and revived the love saga popularised in the ‘90s (energised with cult music, love in the backdrop of conflicting drama and the fresh chemistry of a young couple played by Rahul Roy and Anu Agarwal). Aashiqui 2 was a surprise hit and suddenly, Shraddha’s name was catapulted to gain instant fame and recognition. She soon bagged roles in substantial films like Ek Villain and Haider, the latter helmed by Vishal Bhardwaj. The films fared decently and even though her roles may not have been meaty, the industry had finally accepted Shraddha with open arms.

Even while all this was afloat, 2012 saw the glamorous debut of another star kid Alia Bhatt under the

grand tutelage of Karan Johar. Having strategically chosen not to be launched by her own father, Alia got a dream vehicle to bite in to her share of the celluloid pie, starring as the sole love interest of two handsome hunks also launched in the same film. The film could have easily dismissed her as another chirpy teenager in a bubble-gum romantic date movie but Alia had other ideas on her mind. No sooner that the dhamaka of her launch started fading than she hit a hattrick in 2014 with 2 States, Highway and Humpty Sharma Ki Dulhania. Now this was a girl who could hold her own opposite the male lead. This was an actor who had enough spunk to kill with her groovy moves in ‘Saturday Saturday’ from HSKD as deftly as she could nail a complex role as a captive girl who develops a bond with her kidnapper in Highway. Even a dud like Shaandaar produced by her Mentor Daddy-O KJo couldn’t keep her fans from going ga-ga over her artistic ability to change her colours as per the role, whether it was as a privileged but disturbed kid in Kapoor & Sons or a struggling drug addict in Udta Punjab. Alia has managed to walk a fine balance between the commercial and intellectual, drawing fans galore from both perspectives with a Badrinath ki Dulhania on one hand and Dear Zindagi on the other. Such is her professional knack and utmost discipline towards her craft that it has elicited praise from all her directors, be it the unconventional Gauri Shinde, or the more masala-oriented Shashank Khaitan of the ‘….Dulhania’ series of films. The cherry on top this year has been Raazi of course which now seals her status as a legit moolah-grossing actor of worth after hitting the INR 100 crore mark at the box office. It is almost as if she has justified her claim to the throne of ‘Twinkling Star Kid’. Her detractors and especially those trolling her under the nepotism tag may keep wagging a finger at the easy entry she may have won on account of her family name but Alia is someone who has dared to defy age, stereotypes and mixed opinions to hold her own among contemporaries like Shraddha Kapoor and Parineeti Chopra who are still clearly finding their feet in the cacophany that is the industry.

In a fickle world where fans may switch loyalties at the drop of your status with a flop on any given Friday, Alia is going from strength to strength, meticulously pacing her grip on her strengths and using her vulnerabilities to appeal to a cynical audience, quite like she does in her role as the surprisingly spirited spy Sehmat in her latest outing.

Meanwhile, Shraddha has kept the ball rolling with ho-hum films like ABCD 2, Baaghi, Rock on 2 and Half-Girlfriend none of which have actually earned her applause as an actor of high calibre. Full points for trying out a raw, edgy character with Haseena Parker but it ended up more like an ambitious experiment gone awry than one that was laudable. Incidentally, Aashiqui 3 has been announced and no prizes for guessing who will be taking on from where Shraddha left off. So who has the audience Raazi and who is more likely to face their naarazi? The verdict is clearly out on that one.

How to find your Prince Charming by rewriting the seven vows of holy matrimony

Yes, yes we can’t get enough of those ‘Happily Married’ shots of Meghan Markle and Prince Harry looking resplendent in their wedding gear and giving us life lessons on how to smile when in the throes of love. Now that the last royal wedding of importance is well out of the way, people have already moved on to the next delicious piece of news that could make its way from Buckingham Palace, that of the stork paying a visit to the newly weds. This ample obsession with domestic bliss is our way of seeking solace in other people’s happy endings when our hopes of finding our own version looks like a dim and bleak possibility on the horizon.

To such hoping-against-hope denizens, the newly sworn in Duchess of Sussex Meghan serves as an inspiration on how you could be over 30, divorced, half-coloured, non-British, from a highly public and publicised profession, independent, non-royal and unconventional-looking and still get your Prince Charming! Modern dynamics in the urban scenario these days dictate that most women stay unmarried well after 30, have probably undergone a series of unsuccessful flings/relationships and are really finding it hard to come to grips with a dangerously tipsy work-life balance to vow themselves to a lifetime of marital bliss, no questions asked. So what then should we women in 2018 be looking for when scouting for the love of our lives? Let’s take a rain check on this one.

1)      Say my name, say my name: The world over, women have been subjected to changing their maiden surnames to take on the husband’s name after marriage. If this is done for guaranteeing property rights to the wife in case of the early demise of the husband, we know not but the truth is, women who have been born to parents of another surname and who owe their allegiance and origin to them therefore, should by right be allowed to keep their own maiden surname if they wish to, simply because they bear it as a sign of their identity and independence. The good news is men of this day and age do not see this as a sign of rebellion or get pangs of insecurity over their manhood and authority. Case in point, actor and Nawab Saif Ali Khan Pautaudi let Kareena retain her Kapoor tag after marriage and did not insist on her converting to Islam after marriage. Aamir Khan and Kiran Rao named their child Azad Rao Khan and set a precedent with Sania Mirza to follow suit, having announced that her child will bear her own name with her husband’s i.e Mirza Malik, a move highly endorsed by her Pakistani husband. The recently married Sonam Kapoor was pleasantly surprised when her beau Anand Ahuja added an S to his name as in Anand S Ahuja after she changed her name to Sonam Kapoor Ahuja post her nuptials. So what’s in a name you ask. Apparently, plenty, my friend. In a nutshell, if your man is wise enough to not insist on changing everything about you (starting with your name) once you become his betrothed from being his beloved, marry him now!

2)      Sharing is Caring: Kareena Kapoor Khan has often been found to be applauding her husband’s hands-on attitude to parenting their son Taimur since birth which enabled her to get back to work mode soon after her delivery. Most married women who choose to work after marriage swear by the support and sensitivity of their partners that helps them achieve their professional goals without guilt or neglecting their household responsibility. So when it comes to doing the dishes, changing the diapers or whipping up a dinner on a hectic work day, women are falling for those men who do not feel ashamed to do all this and more if only it means having a self-assured, financially secure and equally qualified woman as their life partner. Buy that apron for him on your next dating anniversary and see if he takes the hint! ;)

3)      We are same same, but different! Having similar tastes and being on the same page when it comes to certain major decisions in the household are good but one has to accept that two people will have different personalities and preferences after marriage. So women want their men to accept the fact that they might not wish to see eye to eye on several of their choices- whether it is their taste for music or sport or personal habits. From one partner being social and outgoing while the other is an introvert to one partner preferring action films as opposed to the other opting for romantic comedies, you will have differences in a relationship, guaranteed. History has proven that marriages work despite these differences if based on mutual respect and consideration of space and freedom. Look for a man who accepts the fact that you will want to enjoy your me-time to indulge in activities that only you want to be part of, in stead of forcing him to accept and like those as well.

4)      Flaws of Attraction: So yes, you two are in love and can’t imagine spending the rest of your life without each other. Do however accept the fact that there will be others who may distract you from this purpose over the course of time. No matter how much a couple may be in love, there may be others who may hold the threatening potential to rock the boat. So make sure you know why you married your partner in the first place. If your foundation is rock-solid, a dalliance or fling will be the last thing on your mind especially if it could shake the very trust on which your relationship with your partner is based. Look for a man who is able to invest a certain amount of faith in you and know that he has your loyalty even if you have friends of the opposite sex with whom you continue to interact with post-marriage. So if he is not checking on your Whatsapp and stalking your guy friends on Facebook because it will only raise his anxiety by going there, you have a winner. If he is curious though, approach him directly by mentioning who your friends are and may be, plan an outing where you can get him to know them better so that he knows you are in good company next time you plan an outing without him.

5)      Will you do frandship with me? As cheesy as this line goes, we forget how important its purpose is in the long run as soon as we change our status from ‘dating’ to ‘in a relationship’. It gets significantly worse after marriage with responsibilities, child bearing and in-laws getting enmeshed with your lives soon after you sign the marriage certificate. So do not turn your partner in to an adversary by assuming a formal or non-negotiable stand after marriage. Rekindle the joy of friendship because when you marry, you are looking to share your need for a companion and a confidante for a lifetime. If your man gives you this, make sure you return the joy of fulfilling these roles when it comes to him as well. Listen, appreciate, understand, respect. Soonafter the physical excitement of being in a relationship fades away, it will be the togetherness that makes you bond with each other over a joke, during a movie or with a simple glance that will hold weight much after your hair turns grey.

6)      Guardian? No thanks! Counsellor? Yes Please! Women have a lot on their plate most of the times what with changing roles that challenge their status quo constantly, abandoning their maternal homes to adjust to a new marital environment and constantly balancing their duties to make the home and workplace function efficiently. So most women would tell you that they are pretty capable of doing what’s right for themselves, for their homes, for their men. They don’t really need someone to tell them how to run the household, how to keep budgets, what a healthy diet for their kid should look like or where to go for the latest shopping bargains. Most of them would therefore, pretty much be amused or insulted (Take your pick!) by their men’s need to tell them what time to get home by, which career move they should be making and how much more they can do in a day when they are most probably multi-tasking more than their fair share already! So don’t let your man assume the role of a guardian, in stead if he really must dispel advice, try identifying if you have a problem in the first place, then gently approach the topic and see if you need his counsel. Advice that is rooted in genuine concern is much more useful than advice that is unwanted and worse, misplaced. You’ve scored if he sees the wisdom of this tact.

7)      I, She, Ourselves- So first there was Adam, then came Eve, and that gave way to a ‘we’. Most decisions that you take regarding your house, right from what kind of furniture you buy to how many kids you wish to have, should be based on a two-way conversation. If you wish to happily take charge of some things that you have the expertise in for example, redecorating the house, do it but take time out to ask your partner for an opinion or comment on your efforts. When it comes to working out your home expenses or when should be the right time to extend your family, make sure you discuss these between yourselves first and come to a consensus without him being biased in his parent’s favour or because society dictates it a certain way. Look for a man who doesn’t let external influences mar his independent opinion, your perspective and ultimately your major decisions in life together.

Make him adopt these new modernised seven vows that can sanctify your marriage and voila! You have yourself the Prince Charming you have been waiting for!

These Veere need much weeding!

If you are making a film on girl power and how your girl gang is bent on questioning a man’s right to all the fun, why not celebrate the same with a title that justifies the same themes? So Veere Di Wedding itself is a very misleading nomenclature for a film that wants to put its women on a pedestal. It’s like saying you can’t be cool enough if you are sisters from different mothers, you got to be ‘brothers in arms’ or bros before foes’ because that is way cooler. It’s like making a film on Queen Elizabeth to showcase her as a quintessential epitome of female dominion and then calling it The King! If you want to make a film about women, be (wo)man enough to make the gender specificity shine through in stead of trying to force it to succumb to an indirect gender bias. There are several other lessons we need to unlearn before we start labelling our films ‘feminist’ and ‘liberating’.

1)    Got a fiery spirit, will smoke: So if you are a modern, 21^st century girl-loving, men-deriding, Type A personality who loves to wear the pants, your favourite accessory is not a clutch sweetheart, it’s a cancer stick in your hand. You see, if you have to look gutsy, free-spirited and bold, you got to smoke baby. Smoke till those lungs start screaming feminism from your nostrils and exhaust the other gender into claiming your worth.

2)   Love risque, play frisky: So as per the new feminist lingo in town, if you are standing at a public place, could be a bus stop, could be a bar table, and you see a nice butt obviously attached to a person of the opposite gender, go ahead and give a squeeze to that sweet little tush. You thought that was obscene and so totally no-can-do? God! Didn’t you know that if you are a feminist, you get away with these things? So what if the man in question did the same to you and you’d probably pull a martial stunt on him and make him kiss the edge of your killer stiletto for it? Most men itch for that little gesture of lust after all, and if a woman is volunteering to do it, who’s he to see red?

3)   Need props, try men! So you are dancing at your best friend’s sangeet, or that annual Holi bash in your neighbourhood? Adding a prop was never so easy! Go beyond those loud dhols and oh-so-girlish ghunghats. Use a man as a prop, the more lanky, flat-bellied chiselled and dork-looking, the better. Get him to sway in the background, embellish your Royale Play wall, make him nuzzle over your knee and look at you all puppy-eyed, dying to be petted, or better still, let him drool over your shoes as you point your manicured glitter-studded nail at the door or wherever else you would like him to go fetch!

4)   Sing in a man’s voice: Fed up of all those sexist, chauvinistic and bawdy lyrics that Punjabi rappers keep crooning to? Switch places and change the words to get back at the opposite side, the more offensive and lurid your vengeance, the better.

5)   Get boorish, kick butt: Go on a superwoman binge watch- Wonderwoman, Catwoman, Black Widow, or the warrior women of Wakanda, trip on all of them and infuse enough steam in yourself to get in to a boorish brawl at a public place with another woman. You see, unless you aren’t aggro enough, you aren’t man enough and hence not feminist/liberated enough. 

In other words, make sure you imbibe all those traits that we have been calling out as misogynistic for so long among men and then go ahead and emulate those, with a high dose of feminine chutzpah. Then, and only then, have you arrived, my dear, Bridget Jones kissing, Sex and the City loving, Daenerys Targaryen (but secretly) mean muscle-wielding Cersei Lannister-worshipping woman that you are. Live upto your gender by misleading your clan into doing everything that is wrong with the other gender in the first place!

The Pihu Diary: How a mother becomes the unsuspecting prey of the 'Wordly' wise!

With motherhood, comes a lot of responsibility….advice!

Indians as a habit love to dispel advice and pass judgements. These can come at you from all quarters and irrespective of the fact that the source of that advice or judgement may be highly incompatible to the piece of advice or judgement being given in the first place. Take a look at the inglorious mammoth venting machine that social media has become thanks to our innate need to play counsellor/supreme court judge to all and sundry. We Indians love to be loquacious, are frequently wont to inquire more than is due to us jarring all limits of privacy and individual freedom, and believe that profundity is bestowed on us, as a natural virtue after birth.

So as a mother to a growing child, I have been at the receiving end of well-meaning, unsolicited and often humdrum advice and short-sighted observations of many regarding the upbringing of Pihu. While I have realised this is part and parcel and the immediate and inevitable result of being a mother, there are times when it does get OTT. If this brand of so-called wisdom was hilarious during Pihu's infancy, it continues to be occasionally regressive, mostly common and always comical. Get a taste of this with a dose of my, sadly often silent rejoinders.

Pihu is really shy, isn't she? You should really help her mingle.

No, she is just selective when it comes to making friends, who she is comfortable talking to and simply too moody to mingle sometimes.  We as parents, aren't bringing her up to be snobbish or weaving tales to put her off certain people, so next time she doesn't greet you in passing, don't blame it on us, you know! We can't exactly put a glass of punch in her hand and push her to go make small talk with the hoi polloi, can we?

Ah, she loves to colour, she will be an artist!

Just like she will be a writer because she browses through books, and an actor because she loves to make expressions and is camera-friendly and a hair stylist because she loves to groom hair and a fashion designer because she loves to mix and match her clothes.

She has low immunity. Sneezing and coughing every other month. Tsk. Tsk.

Not that I score better considering the dust, smog and pollution variants in the city we live in. How do you build immunity when everything you feed the child these days is either adulterated or full of 'preservatives or pesticides', where the very air she breathes is toxic for her lungs and the weather fluctuates between 35 and 15 degrees in the span of 24 hours!

She is too thin.

I remember being called ‘too thin’ very often even though as a child, I remember having the same amounts of energy and strength as my peers. Considering Pihu shares the normal weight of kids her age, I wonder why her natural body structure becomes an excuse for people to conceive all sorts of assumptions- from an inherent weakness to not eating well or healthy (note: three oily paranthas a day and generous doses of potatoes in everything). Also, considering she eats as much as any other kid her age and has a diet with carbs, proteins, calcium, fat and fibre in equal doses, resulting in an active mind and body all day, I really get irked by this one especially when it becomes a constant conversation starter for nosy neighbours whose kids are overweight when compared to mine. May be I should just counter their observation with a reply like, “Oh, you think so. Nah! You are probably saying this because your kid is too fat!” Now that will be misconstrued as being too rude but calling someone too thin all the time is not so, right?

And the best one has multiple annexations so deserves last but not the least place:

You should have one more kid because

….. this one looks too much like her Dad. The next one will probably look just like you. (sign that on a contract or otherwise, you foot the expenses on the second one, deal?)

…..she needs a brother. Who will she tie rakhi to? (as if the nation wants to know)

…..an only child is a lonely child. (apart from the cute rhyming, this holds no weight if she is a social/an amiable person)

…..she will learn to be unselfish and caring. (because all kids who have siblings are, those fighting property and legal rights battles notwithstanding)

…it will improve her health. (or worsen it, if the second one is prone to sickness all the time)

…..it is the right time to go for it. (they said this when I was 24, 27, 30….)

…..you are still young! (and of course have no other ambitions apart from being a baby-vending machine)

….it will complete your family. (they said this when Pihu was not born as well, it’s a shameful strategy to overpopulate this vastly unpopulated country, everybody’s moving to America no?)

….it is your responsibility to gift her siblings. (just like it is my responsibility to give her the best education, home, food, lifestyle, travel….money can buy)

…..who will she fight with? (OMG, necessity being the mother of all evil)

…..who will she care for after you? (because of course since she is a woman, how else does she justify her gender?)

….and as archaic as it sounds, well, every family needs a son. (because you see every dynasty needs a conqueror who can ambush enemy territory and grow his kingdom. Amen. Or a la Khilji, Inshallah!)

So given the prolificacy of advice we Indians are capable of, you would think everything in our nation functions at clockwork precision because you see, since we are so worldly-wise and clairvoyant, we would pretty much know how to steer the wheel of life and keep things in control, most often. Surprise, surprise, we are the country with insoluble issues at hand- from population control to pollution woes, traffic chaos to unemployment, profligacy, abject poverty, rapes, farmer suicides to low-wage earning labourers and of course everything that is a by-product of our wonderful political manoeuvres and misfirings. So what if we don’t know how to solve our own problems? Doling out advice is our birthright and we shall have it.