Balika Buddhu

I’d like to believe we live in a progressive Indian society. A society where women have equal rights, homosexuality is tolerated and live-in relationships are not uncommon. However, while on one hand, Indian women are launching space shuttles and conducting cutting-edge research, on the other hand, Indian T.V. channels are airing programmes with a social agenda that set us back several decades. Of all the preposterous shows on air, the one that unnerves me the most is Balika Vadhu. The show, as the name suggests, deals with the issue of child marriage. At first, I convinced myself that the reason the government was letting the show air was because they expected it to portray child marriage in bad light. But, as it turned out, the show not only glorified child marriage but also condemned the one person who makes his displeasure evident about the custom, the husband of the ‘balika vadhu’. Despite this, the show has been running to packed houses, or in this case, living rooms, for over 3 years now. TAM ratings have put the show on the top spot for several months in a row, and the show has even won awards. I wonder, at what point is the audience going to realise that the show is an insult to their intelligence? How is it that the government has allowed a TV show that promotes a social evil as monstrous as child marriage to be broadcast for 3 years running? And lastly, whatever happened to the social responsibility of mass media?

God’s A Kid With An Ant Farm

Come to the edge love, come look down
Come watch my creations all playing clown

Watch what happens when i pull this thread
One by one, they all drop dead

Through the looking glass

What are you

He asked me

Amused or amazed

One of the two

I am your reflection

A spin off of you

I look the same

But that is not true

If you think we’re the same

You couldn’t be more wrong

My left is your right

And your right is my wrong

100 miles in the wrong direction

I once knew a man so full of fire, almost as much as mine,

All in a time of electric lights, when no one rubbed the flint stones of their mind.

I fell in love instaneously, worshipping his magic, at par with mine.

So lost was I in his blinding light, that my own ceased to shine.

Though his equal in every right and might, I bowed to his grandeur.

I bowed and bowed until I broke. And that’s all I could endure.

So I gathered the pieces of me I could find and walked a whole mile.

A mile away I tried to rebuild myself but he followed me all the while.

So I picked me up and walked 10 miles but he found me yet again.

So this time, I walked a 100 miles to try and outrun my bane.

I walked a 100 miles only to find I haven't all the pieces, I have all but one.

So now, I'm a 100 miles from home, alone and so undone.

Confessions of a rock lover

I love loud music. Head banging, ear splitting rock music. When I’m upset, it is what cheers me up. Iron Maiden on full volume on my iPod. It is a misconception that rock music makes youngsters aggressive and violent. Perhaps some of the gangster rap lyrics do that, where they glorify violence. But music per se doesn’t do that. When I listen to loud rock music, it calms me. I get bouts of restlessness. Depressive, frustrated, angry bouts of restlessness when I don’t know what to do with myself. When nothing else works, I plug in my ear phones and blast some rock music and it is like the loud music tames my equally noisy mind and suddenly I can think straight. My breathing normalises and well I am happy again.

Run of the mill

A paunch? Oh no, I have truck tyres around my waist. I get pimples and blackheads and facial hair. I have bad hair days, heck I have terrible wet-cat hair days! I could look beautiful, hot, Cosmo girl hot, if I were to wear concealer and work my butt off in a gym that is. But I don't want to. What's the point?  I'd rather be walking through a maze of people, observing and exploring their inter-human dynamics. Psychoanalysing their behaviour, watching the changing hues of their eyes with their ever changing emotions. I'd rather stand in than stand out. In wanting to stand in, I'm probably standing out from people who want to be unique anyway. And that's everyone. Well, almost.

Let me be, in my ill fitted clothes, my unkempt Mowgli hair, my flawed complexion and fat body. Let me blend into the shadows in my dark clothes and watch this intriguing species known as 'humans'.

Life's like that - ii

For everyone who wonders whether everything in life has a purpose, here's proof. I reheated my tea this morning for 30 seconds in the microwave. On my way back to the living room, I realised that the tea isn't hot enough and considered going back and heating it for another 30 seconds, but gave up the idea. As I sat down on the couch with a thump, a good amount of the tea splashed out of the mug and landed on my bare thigh. Despite the slight burning sensation, I laughed and thought, thank heavens I didn't heat it for a whole minute!

J