You are currently browsing the monthly archive for January, 2007.
As Zee has been reminding me constantly that I am nearing hundred blogs, I have been wondering what I could possibly write about in the hundredth blog.
After not much deliberation, I decided that rather predictably I’ll write about Yahoo 360 itself!! 
Or more accurately, about the people who have made Yahoo 360 special for me.
Quite like an acceptance speech at an award ceremony, here are some people I want to talk about on this momentous(ahem) occasion:
- Sowmya – For introducing me to Yahoo 360! when I was rather vaguely aware of what it was, and not so interested about writing for it. She egged me on to start writing, and I feel that my writing has opened up and become so much more free-er after blogging so regularly.
- Ayesha – For finding time to read my blogs whenever she can take time out from work, and writing encouraging comments
- Chris – Yahoo 360! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I would never have got to know Chris at all, if it weren’t for you. I was always a bit intimidated of her in college, but with Y!, all my fears were unfounded. I love reading her sensitive film reviews, and her blogs are always so stimulating!
- Zee – My friend and partner in the mutual admiration society that we developed since we met on Orkut. Once more, with Y!, I get to read Zee’s writings, learn so much more about her… the gentle humour, the beautiful poetry….love everything about her writings. Zee, I wouldnt have written this particular blog if it werent for your constant reminders!
- Anamika – We read each others blogs through our common friends, Sowmya and Chris’s blogs and finally realised we had to add each other as friends, and soon we got to commenting on each others blogs. I absolutely love her sense of humour and her blogs often make me smile.
And ofcourse, to all my friends who quietly read my blogs every now and then to update themselves with what’s happening in my life. I say ‘quietly’ because they dont leave comments and I never know that they have read it. But when someone refers to something I have blogged, naturally I’m taken aback.
So, the next list sh0uld come up when I reach 200 blogs!
Don’t get all those eyebrows raised up wondering what I’m about to write here. This isn’t a scene from Ghost!! 
A few months back I picked up The Deccan Herald from the coffee table in the morning. Saboor was sitting down for breakfast. He took the paper from me, because there was a picture of Daniel Radcliff,(boy who plays Harry Potter in the movie). Well, this picture was on the front page, on the top, above the masthead, where DH puts up interesting bits of news and all that.
Only thing was that the title of the news bit was ‘Erotic Potter’. Saboor was puzzled. What does ‘erotic’ mean? he asked. God!! Not so soon! He’s just 7! How can I explain what ‘erotic’ means? I tried to change the topic but he had stuck on to it. (The news item was about Daniel Radcliff who had signed on to play some part in some movie, with erotic undertones in it…)
Yes, I was really worried. Saboor being the computer geek that he is, could easily google for the word on net and I was really worried where that could lead him. I had to stop this before it got out of hand. Just then, my sister in law(Anjum), came on the scene. I was hoping she would help me in distracting Sab, when she picked up the paper and exclaimed. What is this? Erotic Potter? Oh NO! She’s a big fan of Harry Potter too. Wierd thing was that she didnt know the meaning of erotic. 
She and Sab get along really well because they both like to play board games as well as GI Joes and whatever else that Saboor thinks up. They BOTH started discussing what Erotic Potter could be. By now, I was really really worried. What is she doing I thought, when she opened the paper to read the full news item(with Saboor in tow)
Saboor by then had started chanting ‘Erotic Potter’ again and again. I had to stop him! But how?! I told him firmly never to say the word again, because its a bad word( i know thats a lame explanation, but I cant see myself explaining the meaning of ‘erotic’ to Saboor right now. Not when he’s the kind of boy to go around telling every new thing he learnt to every person he meets!) So, I told him not to use that word.
In stead, he grins at me, and says it again and again. A couple of hours later also, he hadnt forgotten it. When ammi came to pick me up, he said, “Nanji, theres something about Harry Potter in todays paper. Its called Erotic Potter” Well, luckily, ammi didnt know what it meant. But this was the limit! I wasnt going to wait till he said it to someone who did understand what it was!!
I did something of which I’m not proud at all. It would have to be one of the times I have not been such a good parent. I threatened I would rub chilli powder on his mouth if he said the word again. He didnt listen. I carried out my threat.
Poor Saboor screamed and shouted, yelled at me, tried to hit me, but eventually calmed down. He hasn’t said the word again after that. I dont know if he remembers it still. And I’m not going to ask him whether he remembers it or not!! All I know is that this is just the tip of the iceberg and I better be prepared!
How many of us have heard of Priyanka Bhotmange? If you haven’t then please google for her name and read up the first article that comes up.
A couple of days ago, I was browsing through an Outlook when I saw her mentioned very briefly. I googled for her name on the net to read about what had happened to her. And I can’t tell anyone how it shocked me.
Firstly, I don’t know how this news escaped me, when it had happened in September. I admit, I haven’t been a regular newspaper reader last year, especially towards the end of my pregnancy. But if it had been made into a big issue, I’m sure I would have heard of it. Today, even my son knows about the horrible Noida killings, although he doesnt know the grisly details thankfully.
But when I asked Sidra, who’s doing Communicative English in college, where they have weekly news quiz and all that, she too hadn’t heard of her.
When I told her about what had happened to Priyanka, she too was horrified. To think that this happened in present day India. Should we be surprised that it happened? Or should we emerge out of the cotton wool blotting our urban existence and realise that we shouldn’t be surprised that this had happened.
More importantly, how come this wasn’t made into a burning issue? If it was, I think I really have been out of touch from the media. When Jessica Lal, Priyadarshini Mattoo have become household names, why is it that Priyanka Bhotmange escapes our notice? I don’t believe it could be because she is a Dalit.
One of the first articles that I opened and read about her, horrified me so much, that I haven’t been able to think of anything else. There were pictures of Priyanka – naked, bruised, raped and dead. I still am not able to get those images out of my mind. I can only visualise her 17 year old existence that came to such an end.
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A month or so back, we realised that when Azhaan was rather upset(not hungry, wet or sleepy, the usual reasons!) he would cry in a different way. His lower lip would jut out and he would scrunch up his face and start bawling, calling out \’mmmaaeh\’!. Mom likes to think he\’s calling me, and he\’s calling me \’amma\’! A little hard to believe for a two month old.
But its almost true. He pouts, cries mmmaeh and looks at me! An absolutely heart melting kind of cry.
Last night, he was rubbing his eyes from 9.30 pm. I rocked him till 10.30 but he refused to go to sleep. Finally, out of frustration and a leg that didnt quite feel like it was my leg, I kind of yelled at him. \”Sleep!\” I said. Pout. Oh Oh! I rocked him in my arms again, feeling bad. Then, on an idea, I simply spoke loudly again, \’Sleep!\” Pout! It went on for three or four times! Each time I said \’Sleep!\’, there was that pout! Like it was threatening me to go on, and I\’ll turn into a bawl!
Amused, I finally managed to put him to sleep. This morning as I handed him to my mother in law, before going to make lunch for Saboors school, I told her about this. And I looked at Azhaan and said, \”You\’re turning into quite an actor Az!\” He gave me one big toothless smile.
Last year in September, Sidra came home and told me that Naureen m’am had asked her to give my cell fone number to her (sidra’s) seniors. Apparently, they wanted to interview me. Interview me? I was surprised. Then Sidra mentioned it rather matter-of-factly, ‘its for that documentary that they have to make in third year.’ Interviewed ON camera???
I told her that no way was I going to talk to anyone while they recorded my bloated face, my dimpled hands and rounded shoulders(effects of being 8 months pregnant at that time). But I relented when the girls called. They assured me they would not focus on my stomach, but just on my face.
The day came, and I wasn’t nervous. I discovered rather late in life, that I dont have stage fright and that I’m not as self-c0nscious as I thought I was.
The group of girls descended on my moms house at around 7.30 pm, and they set up their equipment in the front hall. After half an hour, in which I recalled my own experiences as a CEP student where we had to shoot documentaries for the final year, we started the shoot. It wasn’t an interview per se, but they just wanted me to talk about writing and such. Which I did. The topic of their documentary was writing, but actually at that time, it wasn’t really clear. It seemed a rather vague topic, but they wanted to talk to budding writers, or newly published writers, so I suggested Daksha’s name also to them.
The experience was a good one, apart from the excessive sweating because of the strong lights and Azhaan somersaulting in my stomach a little more than usual. I realised that well, eight years does make a difference in how things are done. Where eight years ago, when we were shooting our docus, I think we were rather inept and not very sure of what we were doing. It also had to do with the fact that the CEP course itself was pretty new then and our teachers too were learning along with us.
Anyhow, the girls were very sweet and they spoke to me for sometime after the shoot. Then they packed up and went and I forgot all about it. Ofcourse, some time back I remembered and called up Naureen and asked her what happened to it. She said that they would be having the screening shortly and they would invite me for it.
On Tuesday, Puja called up. She was my contact person for the whole interview thingie and she asked me to come over to college on Wednesday, that’s yesterday at 6pm for the screening of the documentaries. I asked mom and Sidra to accompany me, and Shazu too. So, it was a rather big group of people (Az and Saboor included, Saboor being rather disdainful about going to a girls college, and I was thinking, in another few years he’s going to wish he could go there!) Well, the PU auditorium was abuzz with activity. Some of the girls were wearing sarees looking very formal and pretty.
Parents, boy-friends and those who had participated in the documentaries trooped in one by one. Naureen was also there. When Sr.Philo finally came in, screening began.
The first one was titled Xanadu. It was I’m sorry to say, not very effective although it attempted to be. For one, the concept was rather stretched, and then, at one point of time, when you see a girl scooping coffee onto a sugar cube, slowly staining it brown…you begin to wonder, what concept! Maybe i’m just not intellectual enough!
Anyway, the second one was where all the girls I knew lined up, introduced themselves and began the documentary. They had spoken to Daksha, Wendy Dickson, and Sadiqa Peerbhoy along with me. The voice over spoke of communication and Wendy, Daksha and Sadiqa spoke about their experiences as writers. My family turned to look at me. Where was I? I shrugged. It seemed rather anti-climactic.
There was a parallel story about a frustrated boy who finally finds expression in writing. But I really felt that was unnecessary. It kind of made it look very idealistic. Everyone doesnt want to write! There are millions of other ways of communication and expression! I had a feeling that the documentary started off as one thing and became another.
All of a sudden I was there on the screen. Bloated like anything! But worse, my face was so oily and greasy, it looked like someone had brushed a million oily papads across my face!!!! I was mortified because ammi unnecessarily tugged at my arm saying, its you! its you!, and there were people turning around to look at me!
Shazu reassured that I wasnt looking so bad also. Well, I realised that I’m not vain. I didnt care after that. After all, I spoke composedly and what I said made sense. And I didnt sound self-conscious.Nor did I fumble for words. My CEP teachers who taught us about communication would have been proud of me!!!
Well, to sum up this documentary, I felt it was a bit idealistic also, especially with that boy’s story. But still, it was a good effort.
But the evening would have been incomplete if it hadnt been for the third and final screening. Naureen had told me that it was something about auto drivers. The third documentary was simply amazing! No one would have been able to guess that it was created by students, it was THAT good! They had presented both faces of the coin, speaking to disgruntled commuters, snippets from people’s experiences with auto drivers…one rather unintentionally amusing one, where a girl spoke about how an auto driver had tried to hold her friend’s hand and seduce her or something!!
Then, they had spoken to a lot of auto drivers and presented their side of the story too. The audience was in splits with the cheeky comments of some auto drivers, ‘you can give us ten rupees extra out of the goodness of your heart no?’ and other such priceless rejoinders.
All in all, it was the BEST documentary of the three, and everyone knew that for sure. It was smart, sassy, bindaas and said it like it was. Only one problem was that it was rather long. I kept thinking it would end now, and there was more, and that happened atleast three times. When Adnan Sami growled ‘Meter down’ in the background, i thought this was it…but it went on after that too!
Still, it was a most enjoyable experience, and I was glad to be a part of it. Azhaan had slept through it all, and we waited outside college for an auto. One guy asked me where. When I gave the address, he promptly asked for 60 bucks! I just burst out laughing at his face. Well, if he had asked 40, I would have relented, my attitude having been softened by the documentary. But sixty was double of what we would have to pay. So we walked off, and found another auto who didnt charge anything extra.
Don’t move a muscle. Dont’ make sudden movements. Don’t even breathe, if thats possible. And above all, DONT open your eyes! If thats what it takes to put a three month baby to sleep..then so be it!!!
I’m not exaggerating. The moment Azhaan falls asleep, if I reach out to check my mobile for any messages, I look down at him in my lap and his eyes are wide open. If I scratch my arm for a second, there he goes again. Then recently, I remembered something I used to do during Saboor’s time. Keeping my eyes shut. Its ridiculous but baby actually believes that oh..well..mom is also asleep and so, I might as well go back to sleep too.
But if my eyes are open, he looks into my eyes, and if I can’t resist smiling at him, he returns his BIG smile, the one which I don’t feel like ignoring. And there we go again. Rock rock rock…hum hum hum…
A couple of years ago, I wrote this article for Open Sesame. I don’t know what prompted me to write it, but I diligently looked up for facts on goldfish and wrote it and got it published also. I was just re-reading it and felt a bit sick again.
Ok, now so for some background. It has to do with this awful dream I had one night when I was very small. Someone had locked me up in our guest bathroom. I was sitting on the cold, wet floor crying and then suddenly there were zillions of black goldfish(yes…black!) squirming on the floor, and I was being made to swallow them alive. Yuck! Yuck! Yuck!
Naturally, I cannot stand goldfish to this day. I cannot tolerate looking at small fish swimming in aquaria, although I dont mind watching sharks and sting rays glide past me behind thick glass walls. There is infact, one precious family photo of the four of us, abbu, ammi,Jun and me in Japan (Sidra wasn’t born yet), yes, the four of us sitting in this gazebo kind of thing, near a pond. And I have this awful grimace on my face, because I just had to swivel my face left to see brightly coloured loopy gold fish swimming in the pond.
I hate scenes in Hindi movies, when for dramatic effect, a huge wall sized aquarium is smashed either by the hero or the villain, and water comes gushing out, and with it, tiny fish fall out, and die naturally. How come that is allowed? How come Maneka Gandhi hasnt latched on to those film makers?
Anyway, everyone is amused by my phobia. And I’m a Piscean, so there are more good natured gibes that I have to tolerate. I dont mind, as long as I dont have to see a goldfish closer than 2 cms from my eyes.
It goes to show a lot about how different my husband and I are. Bakrid is one of his favourite festivals. And why shouldnt it be? He gets to eat fried chops, kidneys in gravy, fried liver , paaya(trotters) and the famous dish from our family which is called awakery. Its nothing but meat cooked with minimum masalas, but meat with a lot of gristle and fat and it is cooked entirely in its own fat, with hardly any water. The result is a stringy yet tender meat preparation that never tastes the same apart from the time it is cooked at Bakrid.
Bakrid for me gives me horrors. It is at this time that I wonder, why oh why hadnt I been born in a Brahmin family? I would have been SO happy eating dal and poriyal and other such stuff and would never have wanted to look at a goat ever again. And all this, with my mother and mother in law being the people who sit down among mounds of meat, dividing it into polythene packets for distribution. Imagine if I had to do it??!!
When I was small, Bakrid was exciting. All the families would congregate in Vellore.All those goats lined up in the house a day before, and we children would vie with each other to feed it leaves and all that. The next day, we would wait excitedly for the maulvi and watch the slaughter with a lot of relish. Yes. Relish. I think all children have the stomach for the macabre.
Its the stomach to actually eat all this stuff is what I dont possess. The one Bakrid that really put me off was a year that most of the children(now young adults like moi) remember very well. We were together in our misery here.
The adults ( and a few kids of our family) go berserk during bakrid. My aunts cooked ’sutriyan’(its like biryani, but without rice. In stead theres rice flour dough shaped into long fingers or balls and its cooked in the biriyani masala) with the head meat. I distinctly remember us sitting down for lunch and all of us were totally grossed out when Jun dished out an eye. Yes. An eye. AARRRRGHH! There was the smell of blood in the air, the sickening sweet smell that seems to seep into your pores and whichever way you turn, it is all that you smell. The water in Vellore, tepid already with heat, smelt of blood and meat and it turned our stomachs each time we took a sip. Someone had kept a vessel full of water in the fridge to cool. I distinctly remember dipping a glass in the water and drinking it, only to find it smelt of meat, blood and even mogra flowers! Courtesy, one of my aunts who had kept a bunch of mogra flowers in the fridge to prevent them from getting stale.:-|
As if this isnt enough, what is worse is facing the accusing looks from the elders. They are shocked that we cannot stomach the idea of eating boti(intestines) or sira(head meat). And we have to listen to taunts from the elders, who shake their heads at us and tch tch among themselves, and talk of how they used to fight with each other when they were small, to get the best pieces or whatever.
For me, it is worse. My father was exactly like my husband. He loved everything about bakrid. And naturally, I get to hear a lot of this….’How did she turn out like this?’
One would wonder why I’m cribbing so much about this now. From the past few years my mother and mother in law have been giving the qurbani in the market itself and they bring only the meat at home. So, we are not witness to skinning and loops of intestines trailing on the ground. But somehow the meat during qurbani just has this smell, this awful warmth in it, that I cannot eat it without forcing myself.
At home, everyone is quiet when I mop up bread with gajar ka halwa and eat it wishing I could become invisible. I dont want them to stare at me, and wonder what is wrong with me…while they eat rotis in awakery with relish. All I can say..thank goodness bakrid is over!
So its that time of the year again when we go birthday gift shopping…or rather gift hopping for Saboor. With January 2nd out of my way now, I can breathe a sigh of relief at the date which has been so glorified, so anticipated that by the time it comes I’m all tired from just thinking what I’m supposed to do and what not…whew!
So once again, I traipsed into Landmark to pick up a gift(s) for Saboor. Mom had already done her bit, and this time, after dire warnings from me, she hadnt bought him reckless, and extravagant toys like she always likes to! (She’ll kill me if she knows I wrote about that, but once she got him a pair of boxing gloves and another time she wanted to buy him a sling shot..what is it with people when they become grandparents??!!) In stead, she and Sidra had bought him board games that go by the names of Stay Alive and Master Mind, all curiously having to do with small marbles and pegs..( mom has surely forgotten all about Azhaan) or she wouldnt have ever got something which he could possibly want to put in his mouth three or four months down the line.
Ok, back to what I was saying. In Landmark, I moved straight to the books section. Deep inside me I knew that Saboor just wouldnt be excited with any books, but still I went ahead and got him books of word puzzles and mind benders and a William book too. How many times I think that I should buy gifts that he would like and not gifts that I would have loved to receive when I was his age. But I never learn! And confronted with a Power Ranger toy that costs 400 rupees which will be recieved with a LOT of joy but will soon be relegated to the numerous other action figures he already has, a book seems such a better option.
I think that as children we too have undergone certain scenarios where we could never understand what our parents liked about something in their own childhood. I think its going to take some time for me to accept that he won’t really sit and read. Because I have been plying him with books since he was a year and a half old! I have not forced them down on him, and yet, he prefers to watch TV, play on the comp or the x-box. But something in me never gives up. I keep buying books in the hope that he will learn to love reading sometime or the other!
And as for learning lessons, I think i’m still quite far off…because I spotted a book in Landmark which I think will be perfect to read out to Azhaan when he’s a few more months older!
