The Pihu Diary: The Second Act

Try as you might you cannot refute the fact that parenting is a huge responsibility that involves a load of self-sacrifice no one sees coming. I have a confession to make and I do feel I am not the only mom around who thinks this way. When I hear singles or bachelors or even women who are married but with no kids complain or whinge about how busy their lives are and how they get no me-time, all I do is scoff and mentally judge them for being silly. As a mother who has to balance home and child along with a job, it makes little sense to me why they get no time for themselves off-work hours. What are they doing with all that time that I spend running around my child, doing pick ups-drop offs, playing with her, studying with her, managing her lunch and snack boxes and taking her for extra-curricular activities? How many moms can deny that they had more time on their hands before kids as compared to after? And how many of us want that time back when we could go out for drinks with a friend on a whim, catch a late night movie in the theatre, take a dip in the tub or the neighbourhood pool without keeping time or share a laugh with the hubby over a lunch date on a Sunday discussing whether a trek up the mountains would be on the agenda on our next holiday?

Post-Covid times, mothers have felt the pinch even more as their children have accomplished a complete invasion of their space and lives. So even those women who could run for cover from their children in the name of a full-time job have to now work for that job, from home, with kid/s in tow. Ouch! I feel you moms, oh I do. In a casual catch-up conversation with my school friend, I asked her if she was planning to have more children after her daughter who is now four years old. She laughed it off saying her husband and her (both teachers) were barely managing to keep their jobs afloat while working from home, bribing, cajoling, convincing and even bargaining with their girl to give them a couple of hours of uninterrupted class time online with their students.

Another friend of mine made this observation about how we as parents have become really involved in our children’s lives without meaning to be. Our parents or that generation had too much on their hands to bother spending time with us. We as children depended on neighbourhood kids, relatives, cousins and classmates for playtime and friendly banter. Our children also seem to be more hyperactive these days. Whereas we as kids simply sat and behaved on a long car ride or in a restaurant, we barely see children without a mobile phone or sitting still watching the clouds float in a park these days, right? As nuclear families became the norm and we started cocooning ourselves in our homes thanks to OTT and social media, spending more time on our phones and less outdoors, our children have now become more dependent on us for their leisure needs. No one has the time to spend with our kids anymore. Every young couple is out there pushing the nine to five wheel and our parents are either not in the near geography to help us babysit, or have become smart enough to realise that they are not obliged to take care of our children. Photo-ops with them on holidays and the occasional video calls are enough to satisfy their grandparental instinct and going the whole hog and taking over where we parents fall short is not really on their roster. Good for them, I say. Parenting is enough of a journey once in a lifetime, I don’t blame them if they don’t want to relive it!

So yes, my seven-year old is looking at me and her father for everything from a playmate, advisor, co-worker, accomplice, language translator, counsellor, teacher (full-time since lockdown, thanks to consequences of Covid), fan, critic, friend and parent, all rolled in to one. No matter how sloshed we may be with work, or short of time, one of us has to play with her, read to her, tuck her in and offer explanations to her questions that begin at 8 am and could go on till after bedtime. What began as an honest attempt at satisfying our curiosity as to what a kid between us would look like and seeing ourselves as exemplary parents has yielded an amusing revelation that is Pihu: seven years old and always looking upto us to role-model as well as light up her life. To not have another child was a decision born after this unique product that is Pihu came in to our lives- we can’t afford to have another, we barely have time to give to this one, having another will divide our time with her, we have no one to fall back on to support us in our parenting, childcare- have you checked the fees for one child these days? When do we get to get back to our old lives? When do we enjoy our youth? What’s the point of having more kids when we are most likely to lose them to their own adventures once they become independent, children today are not obliged to take care of their parents so hell! Stop treating them as a wise investment plan for your retirement eh?, who wants to go through that painful and nauseous phase of pregnancy until delivery? Look at the world around us- what are we leaving behind for the next generation besides corruption and climate change? When do I get to enjoy my professional growth again if I take a backseat thanks to a second innings at motherhood?

There they are: reasons for calling it quits after one child- and most modern parents like us today have it chalked out. Me and my partner have always been one of these calling ourselves lucky to have one and not duh! enough to repeat the act. Until questions of another kind emerged: Does it take superhuman skill to have two children in this day and age? Why are so many of my colleagues and friends putting up pictures of ‘Hum do, hamare do’ (we two, our two) on every social media page I am on? Why do all of Pihu’s friends have a sibling? Why does she look forlorn every time she sees the younger sibling and feel that void when she gets back home? Does she have to go “Awww” every time she sees a baby? Why does she say she would like to have a playmate at home so she needn’t bother us all the time? Are we being selfish when we tell her you don’t need anyone and reluctantly pick up a book to read to take her mind off the topic? 

Affectionate yet strict, kind yet cautious, gentle yet clumsy, sweet yet whiny, shy yet curious, creative yet self-conscious, inquisitive yet calm, there are so many ways of describing my little one. I know she would make a great sibling and were we being mean by snatching that opportunity from her? And of course that one question that bogged my mind- were we leaving her alone in this world after us? Sigh! Decisions, decisions, decisions. Parenting seems to be clogged at every turn with all kinds of making these and yet, we never really know if we make the right ones. So while we believe we have a hold on our destiny, there is an old saying that goes ‘fortune favours the brave’. Seven years after a bright little star called Pihu shone in to our lives, our happy family bubble of three was about to burst with the grand entrance of another twinkle toes. Seven years after we welcomed Pihu to our nest, we were bracing ourselves for another fast ball. Someone would think we had had enough time to mull over this and roll up our sleeves for the catch but when we finally knew what had hit us, the only question we needed to answer for ourselves was- what were we waiting for? 

So after seven years of celebrating 5th July as Pihu’s birthday, two days later, a little bubble we fortuitously nicknamed Bubbles came in to our lives…a late birthday present for our so-far one and only (supposedly lonely) darling daughter and as another testament to the fact that no matter how far deep-seated logic can drive us,  a daughter’s love triumphs over all, in the end.

SHUDDH DESI DRAMA- HOME-DELIVERED!

OTT platforms have upped their game to reach out to the masses like never before and made sure the latter has an exhaustive bunch of entertaining drama series to choose from- promising a shot of adrenaline, suspense, pacy action, passionate affairs and scorching drama. Move over telly soaps, OTTs are brushing nothing under the carpet unlike their more staid and conservative counterpart. So everything from pulsating cat and mouse chase sequences, gory murder and mayhem to raunchy bedroom scenes is out there for visual consumption- no holds barred. After all, the likes of Netflix and Amazon Prime Video have the moolah and the mettle to get you enthralled. Moreover, in post-Covid times, with the vacuum that the absence of high-octane theatrical movies on the big screen has created, the audience is hard-pressed to fill those dreary work-from-home, stay-at-home, lockdown hours with some heavy duty distraction. 

Enter Indian production houses that are leaving no stone unturned in dishing our a rich fare of tear-jerking, rib-tickling, horror-striking and hard-hitting OTT series, customised and delivered for viewers right inside your living rooms. From Excel Entertainment, we have had ‘Made in Heaven’ (2019); which has been both critically acclaimed and eagerly lapped up by urban audiences seeking a slice of Delhi glitz and glamour. The city plays backdrop to the numerous weddings in the making of an assorted mix of couples, a feat it accomplishes quite comfortably going by the number of weddings it plays host to every year. I remember getting married in November in Delhi and there were at least 21 weddings taking place simultaneously in my vicinity! Delhi takes weddings very seriously no matter what class you belong to and for the first time, I appreciated the way the series brought out the invisible border that divides Delhi in to the haves and the have-nots. So you either know English or don’t, you either stay in Lutyens Delhi or don’t, you either know couture or you don’t, you either shop in Khan Market or Sarojini Nagar, you live in a palatial mansion overlooking lush green courtyards or share a seedy gully with your next-door neighbour, whose balcony you could touch if you stretch your arm. Yes, there is a class act in Mumbai as well, the other metropolitan city people like to compare the capital with, but not one that is so stark, fertile for ridicule and over-the-top. And because it is Zoya Akhtar’s handiwork, the production value and star cast are bang on- with the scripting and narration just adding to the joy of watching something fresh and fragile, it’s a challenge that the actors and directors match up to, to bring out the edgy nuances and tearing seams in Delhi’s social fabric. 

Add to the girth of such online dramas are a powerful star cast made up of mainstream actors like Saif Ali Khan, Tigmanshu Dhulia, Kumud Mishra and Dimple Kapadia and you have the audience hooked. After the success of Sacred Games (2018), Saif sinks his teeth in to the role of a plotting political scion who will stop at nothing to attain power and hang on to it. Although Tandav (2021) went through its share of controversies and potshots, I think it managed to create an impact with the way it strung the ups and downs of a power struggle together. The closed-door schemings, devious planning and understated performances by Anup Soni, Sandhya Mridul, Sunil Grover and Kritika Kamra help raise the sobriety of the show, which would otherwise look too raw and chipped in its delivery. So if you like your political tamasha dressed in Karan Johar branded designer brands and suave styling, this is your cuppa.

Speaking of big star power, I was really not impressed with White Tiger (2021) though. Even with the likes of Rajkumar Rao with the worst America-returned accent onscreen and Priyanka Chopra’s ‘I-am-a-legit NRI now’ chutzpah, this adaptation did not do for me what Arvind Adiga’s novel achieved with its black and white pages. Even the climax which I don’t wish to spoil for those who haven’t read the book or watched the film yet, lacked the poignancy it deserved. The moral dilemma of the underdog remained driven by a need to keep things rolling, primarily in order to force a super-ambitious and half-baked resolution down our throats. Either way, this tiger needed sharper claws to dig in to our psyches.

Away from the devious ways of men, was Panchayat (2020), which should probably classify as an ode to the good old Doordarshan days of family fare like Hum Log and Basera. Sweet and innocent, at the same time, the story does not pretend to be anything more than what it is- a simple tale of how an engineer-turned-panchayat secretary gets stuck in the cow-dung streaked rural hinterland. The straight-faced Jitendra Kumar still manages to be endearing with his vulnerable attempts at bringing about change, his struggling ambition and scathing indifference at the way villagers operate. He brings his urban outlook to the job, not entirely sure he is cut out for the role and yet, persists because well, there is little choice for a middle-class man who wishes to make it big in the job-starved market that glares at the Indian youth today. 

Climbing the social barriers of class and caste has been a recurring theme in films and OTT series time and again, almost like a bestseller for most filmmakers. However, with Sir (2018), Rohena Gera directly takes you in to the emotional journey that could play out between a well-heeled bachelor living the typical humdrum corporate life and his domestic servant who is the face of every woman, washing our dirty laundry, cooking our daily meals and scrubbing the countless utensils in the kitchen in our homes. Can a romantic liaison between such completely contrasting characters lead to a happy culmination of hearts and minds? This is not your average love story and definitely not one that many of us could comfortably even come to terms with. Tillotama Shome manages to add so much dignity and grace to her role that you are with her, rooting for her, feeling for her and finally embracing her destiny as she grapples with her love for a man she can never really match up to. Vivek Gomber as the master of the house she keeps spotlessly clean, is subtle, letting her take centerstage even as he tries to work a miracle and build a bridge that leads to a permanent place in her heart. The story is ultimately not just about what your heart desires when it comes to love or vocation but how far you are willing to go to break the stereotypes to fulfil those desires.

Apparently, people can go a tad too far to break stereotypes and fulfil their desires and ambitions. Ask Nawazuddin Siddiqui who just gets in to the skin of another poor man’s story, in Serious Men (2020) albeit this time he shares focus with his onscreen son- thrust in to being extraordinary by a father who will not stop at any turn in order to prove him a prodigy. It is close to home for many of us Indians who like to live their dreams and aspirations through their children. How it may affect the child and what it will finally achieve, may not be in our control but try to excel we must. The pursuit for excellence supersedes everything else- happiness, authenticity, grim reality and hope. 

Much as we question the father’s goals, we are bound to relate to his need to match up to the potential to grab fast money and fame. It is the pipe dream he must hang on to if he wishes to stand tall amidst a life full of mediocrity. 

Fast money is what Saiyami Kher is after in Choked (2020), coming from Anurag Kashyap’s production house. She is pretty much the life force that runs her house and her husband played by the very earthy Roshan Mathew is just a character in the background who must bow down to her determination at getting rich overnight. Saiyami captures the mundane and sordid drudgery of her life with amazing dexterity, even getting the Maharastrian body language and lingo right when she needs to. She is a boring banker who must do the cleaning up and cooking after coming back from work with a bag of vegetables from the market. She must contend with her husband’s inaction on the professional front and the lack of financial support he offers, at the same time coming to grips with her failure to snatch her 15 seconds of fame as a singing reality star. Her salvation from a lifetime of struggle comes out of her choked kitchen drainpipe, at a point when her attempts at living a comfortable life are choked, as are her aspirations.The illegal cash that literally flows in to her house is her way of grabbing at that dream of achieving instant gratification, but is it enough to sustain the leaks and cracks of her middle class aspirations? Is money the door finally to eternal happiness? 

Bringing four shades of ordinary lives is Ludo (2020), an eccentric offering from maverick director Anurag Basu who’s last films Barfi and Jagga Jasoos showed us how unconventional he can be in terms of his cinematic liberties. Here, we have a crazy gangster, confused nurse, listless young man, loyal but jilted lover, helpless wife, a casually promiscuous couple and a ex-criminal lout out to criss-cross paths and destinies to get to an equally incredible end. The premise is regular India, with some fateful encounters and a zeal to get to the finish line with that perfect hustle, only to realise life doesn’t always give us lemon juice just because we have lemons. Wondering what I am getting at, watch Ludo. It is more befuddling a hustle and yet may leave you with a zesty aftertaste.

For me, Sacred Games started a cult following of those people who are now accustomed to powerful mafia, scandal, domestic strife, gore, sexually provocative scenes and illicit relationships that go sour. In Mirzapur (2018) and Paatal Lok (2020), acts of violence are highlighted with a camera close-up so you can smell the blood, feel the cut of flesh with the knife and sense a quiver in your heart, as if you are part of the violence being meted out itself. What redeems Mirzapur for me is again the acting of the stars who are not really your big league actors. Divyenndu Mishra, Pankaj Tripathi, Rasika Duggal, Shweta Tripathi, Ali Fazal, Kulbhushan Kharbanda, Vijay Varma, Rajesh Tailang, Sheeba Chadda and the ever dependable Vikrant Massey who is getting better with every performance simply raise the bar in this Godfather-like family feud, power tussle and vengeance saga. Corruption in politicians, our judicial and legal system, police force, religious factions, media networks and relationships is all laid bare for an Indian audience which never tires of the intricate gameplay between good vs evil. Little reason why Jaideep Ahlawat’s good cop act in Paatal Lok has you rooting for him even when he stumbles, falls and seems closer to death’s door than solving the case of a high-profile journalist’s attempted assassination by a hired motley team of four criminal suspects. Again, the dichotomy between the two Indias is palpable- one that sees the country through the privileged, wine-glass clinking English-speaking media and one that is flailing in the country's underbelly, of abandoned children abused and suffering, of caste-led atrocities, of the teeming aspirations of a woman entering politics, of hinterland warlords who are deified to influence decisions of the powers-that-be. As long as we are getting a bang for our buck (literally, right? The violence in these OTT dramas is quite loud) we are savouring every drop of entertainment shoved our way. It’s all scorching, riveting, impactful, nicely packaged and home-delivered at your fingertips, whenever and wherever you wish to watch it. So go on, get the tub of popcorn and press play as Indian home entertainment is finally coming of age.

The Pihu Diary: The Apple and The Tree

 

When do you start noticing the similarities that you share with your children that make them more endearing to you? And do you like what you see or does it embarrass the hell out of you when your child loves to snooze soon after she is supposed to be awake because that is what you do too on most days? Or when she keeps at a work project until it is done because otherwise she will have a sleepless night? So as Pihu grows older, I have noticed those traits and qualities that are so characteristic of me that she has imbibed, either through observation or naturally, who knows!

Pihu has an artistic and creative bent of mind. She loves to paint. She has a natural flair to dabble with colours of all kinds- chalk, crayons, colour pencils, sketch pens, water and acrylic colours, you name it. Her art work is all over the house and there isn’t a day she comes back from school without a sketch or painting stuffed hurriedly in her bag. Cutting pieces of paper to make patterns, odd bits of craft, using feathers, pieces of wood and stones to make a lamp shade or a wall hanging is part of her way to express the mind of the restless inventor in her.

She hit the books at two- loving a good read at bedtime, walking in to a library to browse through the book racks and sitting down with a stack full, only to make me carry at least a dozen home. She is great at taking care of them and arranging them proudly in her book shelf, one book ready at the bedside for the night daily. 

She has a great sense of music. She loves rhythmic music and dancing on the Pop Hits of the 70s, 80s be it Madonna or Justin Timberlake. She has already mastered the Macarena steps and is largely excited at finetuning her Bollywood thumkas whenever a hotstepper is on TV.

She is a movie buff already. I am not even talking about Frozen, Trolls and Coco. The girl sat through Bajrangi Bhaijaan at 3 years of age. She watched Tiger Zinda Hai and Bodyguard by the time she was 4, recognising Salman Khan as a brawny superstar who can give the baddies a hard time in every flick. I got her to like Taare Zameen Par and ‘Bum, bum Bole’ became one of her favourite dance tracks. She recently watched Shekhar Kapur’s Masoom and Mr.India and couldn’t stop raving about them. One of the main reasons I have been exposing her to Hindi cinema is my desire to get her familiar with Hindi and listen and learn the diction so she connects with her roots and develops

a love for the language through music and dance. It is working as she already knows the lyrics of ‘Lakdi ki Kathi’ and is progressing steadily in her Hindi alphabet reading and writing. 

She is a great one for cleanliness. A bit odd for her age but she loves to clean up table tops and surfaces meticulously when they get stained or messy. She is also mastered the art of holding a vacuum cleaner and wants to sweep all the dust of the carpets all over the house herself if left unsupervised. 

She is not so much a morning person, groggy and slow when she gets up. It takes a good couple of hours to get her tired in the evenings though and she can jump up on bed a zillion times or talk nineteen to the dozen before bedtime finally enforces her to shut her eyes for the night. 

She is outdoorsy from when she was a baby having travelled all over India and even a trip abroad by the time she was two. Always one with a sense of adventure, she is equally queasy on a long drive on the road, just like I used to be when young. That didn’t mar my joy on reaching a new destination, exploring new places, gorging on local food or smelling the freshly laundered sheets in a hotel or Airbnb. 

She has this zany fashion sense too where she knows what she likes to wear. She loves dress up and make up which is not so much me at her age but it is something I have gradually grown in to liking post my teenage years. So whether it is braiding her own hair, sticking accessories to match her clothes or giving a new twist to her wardrobe mixing and matching clothes are must-dos on a frequent basis at home. 

And trying to follow the rules, being a stickler for propriety and reasoning out why something must be done by finding a logical conclusion are all aspects of her personality that have begun to show up, not very different to what her Mummy is like or was like in her childhood. 

Now if the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, makes you wonder if she will pick up on the flaws and the weaknesses that her parents may have as well. How do you as a parent stop that from happening? We will just have to cross that bridge when we come to it, isn’t it and hope that one’s own life experiences teaches you to guide your child through her own obstacles. If she does stumble though, she will learn toget up and rise again, knowing that this is all part of growing up and becoming a wholesome human being.

Of Mildly Venomous Wives and their Not-So-Mundane Lives

I don’t know if you are yet to be bedazzled by the glam quotient of The Fabulous Lives of Bollywood Wives. Not a terribly original concept as basic research throws up a show called WAGS which is an American docu-series tracking the lives of WAGs- wives and girlfriends of famous sportspersons in 2015-2017 that ran for three reasons. The Indian version is hilarious in parts, predictable in others but a fun watch irrespective of its authenticity. The show made me question how fat are the paychecks these wives cut through their jewellery and fashion labels? Considering most of their husbands are out-of-work for decades, yesteryear stars or semi-celebrities who have hardly been newsmakers, forget roped in decent moolah through films, how do they afford the lives that they have? In fact, that’s one thing they all have in common besides their insecurities, wannabe-quotient and superficial bearings- their unsuccessful husbands.  Yet, they are wearing the best labels, holidaying in Doha, digging in to sumptuous food at the best restaurants in Mumbai and living it up in plush residences in Juhu and Bandra. 

The fact that the show is produced by Karan Johar also means there is a strong catty pitch at which the melodrama of these women’s lives operate. So we see him coming in at vital junctures to stir things up and play these gal pals against each other. To him, they are mere pawns he is having a gala time spinning around his chessboard to cater to the mass’ need for masala. So yes, they all swear by their 25-year-old friendship and yet you have Maheep sound disappointed when Seema and Bhavna do not have a massive showdown and get at each other’s throats after a difference of opinion. They all take jibes at each other in a condescending manner- like Bhavna’s spiritual leanings, Neelam’s prim and proper approach to life and Seema’s fear of flying. Maheep’s foul language would send my mother’s sense of equilibrium for a toss considering none of that is censored in the presence of her kids as well but then what do we with our humble middle-class virtues understand of the high-strung dynamics of our film industry’s hoi polloi? In true classic KJo style, nepotism is out there for some kicks as Sanjay Kapoor rues about how that didn’t get him the big budget blockbusters even as the next generation of kids gets groomed to make a dashing entry. So what if none of them can barely string two words in Hindi, Bollywood was never about getting your diction right, right? So while most average mothers in India are fretting over GRE and GMAT scores for their children, we have Maheep prepping her daughter Shanaya for a ball. Yeah, this is a fairytale world so why were you expecting anything to look remotely real. Le Bal as it is called is a French soiree where nubile nymphets of viable age strut their stuff, coming in to their own. It’s where every star daughter has to sashay into, armed with her proud father to regale people in an almost theatrical dress-up shenanigan. Chunky Pandey’s daughter Ananya’s already been there so there is no chance Shanaya can not go. 

 

The grapevines would have you know that there have been strong seismic waves underneath Maheep and Bhavna’s flowery friendship ever since KJo decided to launch Ananya in his Student of the Year instead of Shanaya. The show would hardly let you guess that with the camaraderie they all put up for our benefit. All the shallow hypocrisy that makes up this tomfoolery culminates in the ball of all balls- an invite to Badshah Khan’s inner sanctum- only here it is the Queen- Gauri Khan who holds stage, throned in the snazzy comforts of Gauri Khan Designs- whatever that is because the only designs on display are the ones that people are faking on each other. So all the lesser known Bollywood wives end up paying their obeisance to the first lady and man of Indian cinema as millennials may not know it- SRK and Gauri Khan. Got me thinking what that made people like Dilip Kumar-Saira Banu, Amitabh-Jaya Bachchan or even Akshay Kumar-Twinkle Khanna considering their standing in Bollywood as original superstars and joint net worth as in the case of the third couple should be astronomical as well. Anyway, this is a world invaded by KJo and hence, the world begins and ends at the feet of this power couple who own and relish ‘jannat’ as well as Mannat. They are in their element as gracious hosts, showering compliments and blessings with full gusto on the families of the lesser mortals. You only wonder how far this charade goes behind the cameras and what these people-pleasing manners ultimately result in. There is a befuddled looking Siddharth Kapoor loitering at this party with no contemporaries in sight. Hmmm….but the unintentional highlight of this glitzy show is Sameer Soni who swings on the balls of his feet as he gloats about his memory of remembering people’s sunsigns with glazed eyes and a slurring tongue. Red Bull and vodka, they would have us believe. Bullshit, I say. 

 

Why I still survived eight episodes of this great Bollywood drama- Maheep’s confession about spying on people with her binoculars, Neelam’s braving a cosmetic session to get her skin tight, Raveena’s frank and friendly advice to Neelam to go for it when it comes to her comeback without a hint of rivalry, that cute French guy who served drinks topless at Mondrian, Seema’s little pep talk with Malaika Arora about motherhood and living it up as a single parent professionally…there are many such moments in the show that keep you hooked and seem genuine enough to hold your attention. I added it to my watchlist as soon as I heard this line from Maheep in the trailer: “Of course we go shopping in a Rolls-Royce. Is there any other mode of transportation?” My husband thought I should watch it alone but gave in to binge-watching it with me with the first episode itself. And it made me feel slightly better for ogling at the luxurious locations and eateries these not-so-demure damsels flocked at. If Seema DM’s a Kardashian and Neelam’s ultimate goal is to sleep in the same bed as SRK and JLo previously did at the Mondrian, I can’t be questioned for making a list of places I want to hit next time I am in Mumbai right. I much prefer crabs in butter garlic sauce to their human versions you see.

 

 

 

 

 

A 'Suitably Safe' Adaptation

 

I vividly remember enjoying Vikram Seth’s ‘A Suitable Boy’, and if you have read it you will know that you have to be sufficiently invested in Lata Mehra’s quest to find her Mr. Right to get through the 1300+ page tome. Mira Nair’s visual adaptation of the book remains faithful to the main plot and characters. For those who haven’t read the book, it is a sufficient reflection of the trials and tribulations of how difficult it might have been to fall in love in the post-Partition era, let alone have a Hindu girl court a Muslim boy. So Mrs. Rupa Mehra has all the zest of a 19th century Mrs. Bennet from Pride & Prejudice when it comes to setting her daughter up with a decent match. The BBC One produced Netflix televised series has all the makings of a literal translation of page to screen with opulent backdrops to convey the post-Independence era in the fictional town of Brahmpur, the Nawabi havelis, the courtesan’s kothi and the British-influenced colonial architecture of erstwhile Calcutta. Lata’s sarees are ethereal and beautiful in their simplicity. Delhi-based debutante Tanya Maniktala playing Lata is a fresh face, and exhibits the necessary spunk that Lata embodies as she straddles the traditional Indian value system with her modernistic, youthful attitude to love and relationships. Maan Kapoor, one of the most intriguing characters in the story whose journey from boy to man is a noteworthy one, is earnestly played by new Bollywood boy-on-the-block Ishaan Khattar, who makes an effort to look convincing as the flawed black sheep in the righteous Kapoor khaandaan. Tabu shimmers subtly as Saeeda Bai, a woman who struggles to give a respectable upbringing to her ward- Tasneem while battling desire and social status accorded to her by her clients like the Raja of Marh. A special mention to my St. Xavier’s alumni and trained classical singer Namit Das who emotes with his eyes to essay his true feelings for Lata convincingly. 

Amidst the rich fabric that makes up this era, what I found deliberately missing in the TV series are the strong political undercurrents that were running through the country at this time that laid the foundations of what India was going to be all about for the next few decades. There are glimpses to the destruction of the Masjid and its repercussions and the oppressive zamindari system. However, the elections in which Mahesh Kapoor loses his seat to Waris, the communal riots and the climactic changes brought about by Nehru’s eventual intervention in the nation’s state of affairs are largely overlooked to give the love story some precedence. In that sense, perhaps the on-screen version lacks the gravitas that the author of the book made his readers engage in and Mira Nair chooses a rather safe way to angle her story for today’s polarised audiences. The story of A Suitable Boy is as much the story of the slow and aspirational rise of the self-made man in newly minted independent India, Haresh Khanna as it is of Rasheed, the Urdu teacher hopelessly in love with Tasneem and struggling against both family and the feudal system in his village. Much sparkle is added in the book through smaller characters but with no lesser depth as the mains like the little boy genius Bhaskar Tandon or Kabir’s father Dr. Durrani, the mathematician. The supporting cast are not just there to add mere flesh to the lead characters’ slow tread towards their eventual destiny. The appeal of this book for me is in the impact of what the British left behind in our country- in the anglicised Chatterji family where Lata is welcomed by her philandering sister-in-law Meenakshi, in the democracy that has been and continues to be threatened by religious factions in India till date and despite western education and influence, how society is governed by a strongly overt moral code when it came to conjugal ties, old friendships and illicit relationships. 

Nowhere is this more apparent than in another highly-criticised and reviewed show, Indian Matchmaking on Netflix again. This is an obvious representation of how we Indians are obsessed with finding the ‘right match’. High-flying and veteran matchmaker ‘Sima Taparia from Mumbai’ as she likes to introduce herself, is proficient in her matchmaking algorithms. She has figured the conflicts of what parents want against what young suitors today really look for in a life partner. The result: She knows for sure one size does not fit all. For someone who has never been part of an arranged marriage set-up, Indian Matchmaking made me as curious as it would a person alien to Indian culture. So it was interesting to see how two random people are actually put together on something like an excel sheet, some calculations made, some divine intervention sought, stars tallied, criteria ticked and voila! We have a pair! So what if the pair or pairs in this series, do not quite make the cut in the end. Post-coverage reveals none of the matches came good and the potential suitors remained only that. Given that the whole process of meeting and greeting was staged, I doubt we got to see what really went on behind the scenes and how serious anyone was about getting hitched through this show. It looks like a great compilation of well-heeled, ready to mingle but highly skeptical individuals who drop the potato at the first sign of a negative trait. It questions the authenticity of ‘first meetings’ and how many are enough to come to that big decision. How much of a person can you get to know when all he or she is projecting his or her best face and attributes to make that big impression. It also hit me that men have no clue what women want from a marriage.  No matter how badly they want to play the role of a 21st century urban equivalent of Prince Charming, they aren’t too far from the conventional mark when it comes to expressing their expectations when it comes to their ‘dreamgirl’. She has to charm the mother, make a valiant effort to ‘fit in’ and is a threat to his ambitions or ideas of domestic bliss if she has firm opinions and comes across as smart, independent and highly educated. The perpetual mother-in-law figure is also as intimidating and overbearing when it comes to deciding on a match for the good-as-gold son, a trait made infamous in countless saas-bahu soaps. So while women may have reached the moon, the roles they must play as wives remain morally ridden in strict ethical codes, writ in stone by other women. 

The Pihu Diary: Strength of a Woman

Pihu is growing up to be a little lady, with a deep sense of curiosity which ends up in a barrage of questions about all kinds of things. “What happens when you mix green and yellow?” “Why is red and orange not a good combination?” “How does sound come out of a phone?” “Who made strawberry jam?” “Why does the sun shine so hard and burn my skin?” “Why did my friend say keeping secrets is bad?” Arrrgh….now you know. The number of questions is directly proportional to the amount of time Pihu is at home, so come term holidays, and that number sure sprouts in to the beanstalk Jack ended up climbing. 

She is also becoming a very decisive woman. “I don’t want to have babies ever because it will hurt so much,” she says. So that day when she walked in to the bedroom from school and showed me a bruise on her elbow, I asked, “What happened?” After some initial hesitation, she confessed, “Louis from Year 1 pushed me to the ground saying, girls are weak and boys are strong.” Although my first instinct was yell curses at poor Louis who didn’t know better and go ask the teachers exactly what was happening in school that he got away with this kind of behaviour, I stalled. I pulled Pihu gently to me, gave her a cuddle and then told her this in stead, “Well the next time Louis says that and comes to push you, you hold up your hand, look him straight in the eyes and tell him, 'If God didn’t make women stronger, how come they are ones who give birth to babies? Have you any idea how much that hurts but how come Daddies don’t do that? Girls are stronger than you think, much stronger than boys in many ways'.” I actually put a smile on her face and she went on to repeat the whole thing line by line so she wouldn’t forget her response next time.

It is interesting what children can discover from parents as they grow older so I increasingly feel the pressure of saying the right thing when she is in conflict and looking for answers. I read somewhere that children learn from what their parents are, not what they try to teach them. So a lot of the learning is actually happening when you are not even trying to teach anything. Some of it is imbibed, some of it is picked up along the way through how we stand up for ourselves, our opinions, what we choose to support, what we don’t and what we say and what we don’t. A simple example is how a child will call his mother names and swear at the top of his voice when things don’t go his way because that’s what he has seen his dad do in frustration. I sure don’t want Pihu to hate men but she should be able to develop a strong personality, one that is formidable and attractive enough for people to admire and respect from a distance and love and treasure when they come close. 

Incidentally, I have been watching a few very excellent representations of female characters through popular TV fiction on Netflix these days. The smorgasbord of drama across geographies and cultures that we now have at our disposal thanks to OTT content has made me realise one thing, there is so much in common between the situations that women face in different countries, the battles that they have to fight for their status and position, the expectations that they have to match up to, to prove their worth and finally, the sacrifices they have to make for the ones they love. One such story made up of charismatic women was ‘Gran Hotel’, the Spanish saga about a heritage hotel in the scenic sea-swept shore of Cantaloa run by a ruthless matriarch who has low tolerance for mistakes and no patience for people who don’t do her bidding. Doña Teresa is equally cruel as she is conniving, however you cannot help but admire her resilience in the face of stronger evil and her loyalty towards the one goal of keeping the family hotel under the Alarcón name. Giving her no respite from ruining the family name and unearthing all its secrets, is her daughter, in whom she meets her match when it comes to taking a task to its fruition and in Alicia’s case, meting out justice where it is deserved, even if it means risking her family’s name in the process. It is refreshing and charming to see how women in the same family are constantly pitted against each other in a plot that has men in supporting roles, merely for humour, decoration or moving the story forward. It is also moving how the decisions of the women in the family finally allow for the conflict to reach resolution and the secrets to be buried, without further ado. 

In another bustling corner of the world in the city of Memphis, is the Greenleaf family from the eponymous series, also running on Netflix, where the Bishop’s wife, Mae Greenleaf is trying hard to steer the Calvary ship forward — Calvary being a church that the family has raised up from the ground for a shoal of Black believers who worship the Christian faith, albeit their style and a dash of Gospel music. Plurality, inclusivity and diversity are not yet celebrated here and there is a clear divide between Blacks and the fairer race, that is not only acknowledged but celebrated. That the Greenleaf family is affluent and dripping in wealth, exuberant in luxuries from Chanel and Tiffany, prospering within the confines of their lakeside estate and have money to splurge on everything they covet, are facts they do not shy away from or putting up on display. A far cry from what we see of the Black community or are made to see more often. This is a powerful depiction of what power and wealth can eventually do to the religious roots of a deep-seated pious family. At the end of the day, even priests or pastors are not immune to vices and the seven deadly sins affect even the most astute of us human beings. It is then up to Grace Greenleaf, a character essayed beautifully by Merle Dendridge to bring her family to the pulpit of justice and seek mercy and redemption at the altar of their dying faith in the family name and its ability to overcome its dark past. Again, we see how the mother-daughter duel can raise the hackles of a family on its tether, and how sometimes you don’t have to look for your strongest adversary outside, sometimes it could be end up being someone at home. Domestic strife, power struggle, cash embezzlement, mysterious murders, pedophilia, rape, adultery, divorce and teenage angst are all woven in to five seasons of Greenleaf, setting off with Grace arriving at the family estate to mourn her sister Faith’s death and ending up with her at the crossroads of a future within or without her family. I couldn’t help but reflect on the story’s literary leaning, in terms of the way it is directed from start to finish as well as Grace’s mother Mae Greenleaf’s character displays strong shades of Ma Joad from Grapes of Wrath. Produced by Oprah Winfrey and with the lady playing an important character in the story, this is an unmissable series for those who dig entertainment with thought-provoking questions for takeaway. 

It is simply delightful to see women making independent decisions and winning their freedom from the grasp of their own mistakes, and not those enforced upon them by the men around them. It makes me wonder about how long before we actually see regular televised Indian fiction with women wielding the baton in a similar fashion, moving the narrative about feminist fiction forward, not stumped by the conventional idea of what women want and how they should be. 

Coming back to Pihu, as she matures in her understanding of the sexes and the difference between the two, she is developing an acute understanding of what she expects from the other sex. Here is what I have gathered so far from our numerous conversations. So a boy is qualified to play with her only if a) he is kind, b) he is respectful c) he does not say mean things to girls d) he does not show his bum-bum in public e) he is funny f) and does not dig his nose in public. Rather ambitious but well, one can always hope.

I think that’s almost an adult’s description for a life partner! So far so good.

The Pihu Diary: Keeping up with the Expectations

If you have a child way past preschool which means you are very much into the hustle and bustle of motherhood, you’d like to think you have at least mastered some of the elements that make up the art of good parenting. Let’s face it: we live in a world where mothers are no longer just that and are probably juggling multiple roles as a seasoned professional, caretaker to elderly parents, super-efficient homemaker and a highly supportive wife to an equally multitasking husband. This means we are 24/7 at the mercy of a practical formula where work has to be distributed, delegated and disciplined. Pardon the alliteration but we do not live in an ideal world and Murphy’s law almost always swings positive in a mother’s case. So if your child is so much as sniffling, chances are she will come up with a fever the next day and you will bunk work because she is at home. If you have that important meeting the next morning, of course your husband will not be able to drop the children to school that very day and just when you want to give some time to your child’s study before dinner, your food processor will choose to call it a day.

If our lives weren’t so challenging by themselves, we have a cluster of people surrounding us who obviously always mean well but have a bundle of expectations to saddle on to our already bending backs. Here are my most popular gems:

So have you enrolled your child in gymnastics, aerobics, contemporary/classical dance, foreign language classes, swimming, singing, football, cricket, no? And God forbid if you do in all of them, you are a compulsive pushy parent who is crushing her child under the weight of all that ambition, some of them means you are never doing enough and if you don’t do any, you might as well disqualify yourself as an able parent.

Once you have done the good deed of signing up your child in a respectable size of extracurricular activities, who is going to drive her around? Of course, you darling. So if you don’t know your accelerator from your gear, which century were you born in mate?

Birthdays, how can we forget this one. So if you haven’t planned a theme party to go with the celebrations, what were you thinking and does that mean you can’t afford one or you just don’t care enough to know what your child’s favourite animation character is? Duh, loser.

And while we are on birthdays, are you one of those negligent and couldn’t-care-less lazy mommies who buy cake from a bakery for their child’s birthday? So basically your daughter’s cake isn’t homemade? Whaaaat? No baking skills? Awww, that poor, poor baby! Eating cookie-cutter, branded, baked, fluffed up, inorganic trash in the name of a cake.

Are you bilingual? Because by the time your child can say “hungry” she better know how to say it in both languages and whatever else they are teaching in school. And if you have multilingual roots as parents, hahahaha! Multiply that by 3,4….and I pity you. That is why you should have just stuck to your roots and married within your religion, community and linguistic borders like Molly Aunty suggested.

The most popular as my mommy pals suggest is checking on milestones. This one is of course centuries old. So if your child hasn’t started teething, been toilet trained and been able to recite the national anthem by 3, are you sure you took enough vitamins and almonds and did the right breathing exercises or whatever it takes to achieve above-mentioned feats?

And before I end this tirade, how can I end this post without mentioning the Malaika Aroras, Kareena Kapoors, Jessica Albas and Beyonces of the world. Yes, they all have kids and look at those hour-glass figures my friend. Never mind if you never had it even before motherhood. That love handle in the middle and those thunder thighs aren’t really going well with the shift dress that is rebelling against your bottom post childbirth. So if you haven’t found the ‘fat exit’ button in good old power yoga, zany zumba or the gym, well, what are you waiting for- the next lunar eclipse?

I know, I am back to my ranting ways but hey, don’t blame me. I am a full-time mother in COVID-19 times, home-schooling a child who believes I can play the role of a full-time teacher apart from all the other things I am trying hard to keep up with. Of course, the teachers have a swell job at this time, enjoying a pupil-free stint while we scramble to ensure our kids don’t lose a precious year. Arrrgh fine. I know no one wished this on themselves but how about reducing the syllabus by half considering that parents cannot be teachers and considering teachers are often parents themselves? Oh wait…I just realised my child is in kindergarten. Oh-my-God.