News to Amuse

'News you can use' - is passe now. The latest trend is 'News that can Amuse'. In my first class of journalism, we were taught that if a dog bites a man, it is...well...normal. But if a man bites a dog, it becomes news. Clearly, my teachers meant that news is something that is meant to be real, but sensational...something that can grab your attention and sustain it long enough to stuff data into that overworked brain. However, dog biting man story was just an expression. Something that distinguishes news-worthy stories from other stories. 

Recently though, I realised that a news channel has taken that extremely seriously. They seem to be literally running around finding men who can be coaxed to bite dogs just to get some news material. They happened to cover a story about a prostitution racket that was exposed and how a woman who was infected with HIV was given 'justice'. It angered the journalist/moralist/feminist part of me to no end. And this is how it was shown: 

News Reader: (In loud, pseudo-Amitabh Bachchan baritone) " this is the story of a poor woman named D. Her dreams and her hopes have been shattered!!!! She is now living the life of misery!!! Only a womaan can understand another womaaan's heart, but in this a womaaan has poisoned a womaan's heart! She has been doomed to a lifelong battle!!!! We bring you exclusive report of......." and so it went. 

The baritone was being supplemented by images of an activist aunty openly slapping another woman. Not just slapping, but basically thrashing whichever body part she could find. The camera man was clearly psyched and hence was shaking (of mirth or horror, I cant say) and the images were blurring but even that could not prevent a couple of dragonflies (or rain poochis) to wave at their mums into the camera. The images were played over and over again (and once, even backwards!) 

So the story was about a girl who was duped into flesh trade by a landlady of some sort. This girl was rescued by a samaritan, who became samaritin-er by marrying her and 'making her dreams come true'. He was aghast to find out that she had been infected by HIV and regretted (this was on record, by the way) 'Having married her and not taken her for an AIDS test'. He decided the best way to give her justice would be to take a couple of activist aunties and thrash the living daylights out of the landlady, which was caught on camera. 

What exactly bugged me in this? 

1) The background music. They were alternating the music of Black (when Deaf-Blind-Mute-Rani is at her lowest possible level of melancholy) and the music of some B grade action flick when the ladies were displaying their brawn.

2) A re-enactment of the entire story was a roughly put together collage of movies where horrible, paunchy men have locked up petite damsels and are waving whiskey bottles around like showering holy water. One scene was so obscene, I'm sure it was ripped right off some blue film.

 

3) The translators who re-told the story in English. While the people in the story spoke kannada, their speeches were being translated with emotional overtones garnished generously with hyperboles. 

4) Expressions such as 'D's dreams came true when he married her' 'Her life was given the sparkling new light of love from a husband' 'One woman's love became conditional and made the other woman miserable' 'Life has now become a bleak beacon'...or somewhat similar. 

Why do I point this all out? Because at the end of the show, I was laughing so much, I literally fell off the chair. Bad effect, since I should have been symapthizing with the girl and understanding the deeper meaning of problems such as prostitution and AIDS. But it ended up having a completely opposite effect on me. For the first few minutes, I sat mesmerized as every technical/journalistic blunder was commited. After that, this just turned into a farce.

 What saddens me now is that many people who have watched this news will only remember it for it's blatant effusion of emotional melodrama and not the hard, harsh facts. The activist aunties will only pride upon the fact that they were shown on TV slapping the villians, but not that they rescued girls from the throes of prostitution. The girl, who will probably be grateful for having been rescued, will continue to make her dreams 'come true' by living with the samaritan. And I really hope the samaritan doesnt drop her like a hot potato once the show is off air. The underlying message of AIDS awareness (which by the way, was the 'theme' of the programme) was lost completely and the cameramen and the crew just blessed the man benevolently for having taken the poor, desolate, HIV woman into his household despite her 'history'. 

Man has really bitten the dog and how! News is now meant to Amuse, apparently. 

Yo! It's Yoga!

My demented title name gives the secret away. What yoga has done to my sanity and creativity...or the lack of it. It isn't all bad though. Sure, yoga lives up to every one of my glossy diet magazine expectations of staying fit and healthy. My temper has been at bay for so long, I have forgotten how to lose it. And I spend my days blissfully ignorant about my scary future college prospects and urge my family to 'breathe deeply' when they panic and decide to panic for my sake. 

But it ain't all good either. Here is a general overview of what happens everyday. I mean it, it's almost like a dejavu. 

I enter the hall. There is an eerie silence which is penetrated by a grunt from Mr.Reebok at one corner. He attempts to stand on his head, an aasana that we wont be taught for another couple of months at least. Anyhow, he still attempts it, half successfully and Reebok can be proud of the extent to which their stretch pants, well, stretch. I turn away so he doesn't catch me giggling from his upside down position. 

I look to Mrs. Smiley. She smiles. Asks me which college I come from. I reply politely that I have graduated. She smiles (sympathetically now) and asks if I am searching for a job. I smile back (reassuringly) and say, no, I'd like to study further. She smiles, puzzled, and turns away to the wall, smiling. 

Another Mrs.100% attendance sits next to me and asks what I'd like to study. I reply 'Psychology.' She puts in her two cents rather enigmatically. 'Psychology and Yoga. One science compliments the other. Do you teach your patients yoga? ' My mind fights with me. Tells me to convince her that perhaps, just perhaps, Schizophrenics might not like to be taught Vajraasana. But I take in that deep breath and cross my legs. 

The instructor enters. Mr.Soul Reason, I call him. We all begin, an eclectic few. As we do the stretching exercises (Mr.Reebok is on Cloud 9), I glance around to see if anyone can make out that I cant even touch my toes. I am the thinnest in the class and yet so inflexible, that cardboard makers could earn a fortune by using me as their mascot. I spend most of my exercise time in looking around to see how much I can accomplish in that race to the toes. 

The aasanas begin. They are fairly simple. And fun, since I can do most. Until we reach trikonaasana. We are supposed to form three triangles with our body and the ground. You do the geometry. I just end up looking like a twisted jungle gym (who still cant touch her toes, rendering her triangle incomplete) while the rest of the class manages to achieve the perfect pose in synchrony. I sigh. And pray for the seconds to pass and Mr.SR to say 'Sloouly Staap'. Immediately after this aasana comes the Ekapaadapavanamuktaasana. Little kids are charmed by the name. So charmed that they don't really bother trying the aasana itself. Older people try desperately to get their kneecaps and foreheads to meet. Surprisingly, I manage to do it perfectly. I look around triumphantly as I see everyone around me writhing and struggling to make the ends meet. Just as I re-do the aasana to teach these poor mortals, Mr.SR looks at me sternly and says 'close your eyes'. Hmph. So much for achieving the perfect pose. 

We move on to Praanayama. No snide comments on this because I still keep my eyes closed, and so do others. 

Finally we reach my favorite part - the shavaasana. We lie down and I contemplate life (or mentally replay yesterday's prime time soap). As Mr.SR (who incidentally begins this everyday by telling us to relaaix the soul reason - it took me three days to figure out he meant sole region.) The silence is pierced occasionally by Mr.Reebok's abrupt and scary snores. Clearly, when the brand says comfort, he takes it too seriously. 

We turn to our right and get up. I open my eyes slightly to watch Mr.Reebok. He seems to be in his own REM world and continues to lie down. It takes me all the patience and constraint that I have learnt in Yoga not to laugh out loudly. We recite the finishing shloka. In our second line, Mr.Reebok's Baritone joins our weary chorus. (I am sure Mr.SR prods him to wake up everyday, but I still have to find the proof. One day, I'll spy a little more keenly.) We all finish and stretch our legs. Mr.SR thanks us, and we all spill out of the class, rather sleepily. 

I smile at another classmate while getting out, and in an attempt to make polite conversation, I ask her where she works. She says, 'I'm studying in II BCom.' And gives me the cold shoulder since that day. Hmm...I guess Yoga is a solitary pursuit after all! 

What's YOUR hobby?

Funny word innit? People keep asking you 'What's your Hobby' as if it is your blood group and would be essential to know for your survival. When I was a kid, I'd be constantly pestered by aunties and uncles. Being an only child, it was presumed that a hobby is a great substitute for a sibling. I'd always angelically smile and say 'ReadingWritingTravelingandListeningtoMusicaunty.'  Even in my resume, I've continued to follow the same format. Although, I must confess here that I do possess other hobbies. Just ones that I cannot reveal in a resume or a social function. 

My first hobby is staring. Not that perverted voyeuristic type that's running in your dirty mind. But just staring. Staring at people, posters, streetlights, garbage dumps...anything. Generally when my object of interest is a person, I'd be mentally figuring his/her life out. Wondering where they're off to, what they might be doing and what they might have been in the previous life based on their facial features (I've concluded half the people who travel in route 27 were seahorses.). While this hobby is hugely entertaining for me, it isn't so for my object. Once my classmate demanded to know why I stared at him as if he were a slug and I couldn't wait to squish him! So Staring can certainly not be entered in social networking profiles as a Hobby. 

Collecting. I started off fairly harmlessly by collecting Stamps, Coins, Shells etc.  A trip to Kodaikanal got me into collecting Pine cones. I decided I would paint them and adorn my room with them...until some started attracting weird looking bugs. I then progressed to collecting leaves (for a sci..science project, of course!) and pebbles. I moved on to collect travel pamphlets. In the hotel lobby at Singapore, I set off smartly in the direction of that pamphlet rack and pulled one of each type, much to the embarrassment of my parents. I then proceeded to read through every single one of them. I even convinced my dad and uncles who traveled abroad to get me route maps and brochures from there as well. I now know transport systems of Germany and Kenya at the back of my hand! My latest collection is Cadbury Dairy Milk wrappers. I must be owning at least over a hundred. An explosion of purple in my desk. 

Writing my name. I could write my name over and over again in different fonts, materials, colours. I'm obsessed with my name, I suppose. At least it's better than writing Leonardo Di Caprio all over my notebooks. (I tried that once, it was the longest name I knew, but reverted back to my own name.) Actually, I just like writing. Anything. I like to write stuff and then sit back and admire my handwriting. Really, I should be banned from this selfless world. 

Watching advertisements. They're so much fun! Especially the type where you have to figure out the product because there is no inkling of it until the very end of that 40 second commercial. I have a list of favorite advertisements....that may even exceed my list of favorite movies! 

and finally, writing all this out on public spaces of the Internet. Really, if you haven't figured out as yet, I seem to find some cathartic joy in embarrassing myself on the World Wide Web. Hopefully there are more like me out there who pride upon being so self-obsessed! 

Some Obscure Poetry

 

(I have just finished three years of literature. For the life of me, I cannot understand poetry unless it rhymes. I know, it sounds very five-year-oldish but honestly, I have always wondered how poets can turn mundane situations into fascinating inspirations. I decided to try it out myself. I mentally took note of all the stuff while cleaning out an old shelf and tried to make a poem of it. I must admit, it didn't come naturally to me, and I used the Synonyms option in MS Word a tad too often. But for a non-poet, or maybe a non-serious poet, this is refreshing. As I re-read it, a lot of lines sound very familiar so I suppose I have subconsciously plagiarised from poets I have read!) 

A Resolution

It took some serious blackmailing and a threat

To turn my holidays into an endless strife

When I finally decided to pay back the debt

And clear out fifteen years of my life. 

Fifteen long years of my student life

Locked away in that dusty cabinet

Old memories sharp as a brand new knife

Fighting the seams for an outlet. 

Newspaper clippings of a forgotten tale

Diaries and Notebooks, filled with scribbles

Tickets to The Frog and the Nightingale

I look longingly, take in little nibbles. 

Old School Magazines, my articles well thumbed

That math answer paper, my first 100 marks 

They thaw out thoughts that have been numbed

And frozen, like ice, in desolate parks.  

I clean out the shelf and lose myself in 

Clutters of memories so yellowed and deep

Now, its time for them to enter the bin

As new wool gathers on the sheared sheep. 

Writing on such thoughts is perhaps, cliched 

But those earmarked experiences are not

Fifteen years later, when this day is frayed

The process will repeat, and replace this blot. 

(If you know me and are wondering whatever happened to that bubbly person who does not look beyond chick-lit, either you have to suggest some ways of helping me pass my time or endure more such obscure poetry!!) 

Fairytale Friendships

A mush-fest is about to start. This week was like a whirlwind. It came, swept me off my feet and has deposited me several inches above the ground. I don't feel like stepping down on the uneven ground again. Ever. If only the week could copy-paste itself 52 times so that the entire year would be the same and things like Future Planning, Exams, Practicals would slip away unnoticed into oblivion. 

But.....life isn't a fairytale. Although my friends are characters from those. Really, the non-stepsistery but more like perfect quality type characters. For someone who has never celebrated her birthday on the birth day (thanks to Bored exams, final exams, every other exam that books it's place in March) , this birthday was AWESOME!!! So here's a tribute to those angels who decided to sacrifice a holiday and shared their day with me instead. 

(Sorry dudes, I really wanted to write a poem and live up to the title Gyaan Guru Rhyme Shuru .....but my mind is clogged with random essays on African Education, Paranoid Schizophrenia and Exit Polls...so I shall do that some other time) :) 

So I'll begin in the order of their appearance in my life. Sneha and Reenu, I really wont miss you. That's because we're the only three who are giving outdated social networking sites any business at all by constantly writing mundane little notes to each other. I know it will continue....so I'm totally at peace thinking I'll always stay in touch with you. ( I really cant help myself...you both are contagious!) 

My google buddies - Naya, Bihari Bahurani, Resh and Maddy..... I didn't know you guys before Google happened and I sincerely believed that we wouldn't really keep in touch at college after Google either. But the fact that we still act like three year olds when we greet each other, and share the same Googly vibes nearly a year after the internship shows that the internship did nothing much except to catalyse our friendship. We were meant to be friends...internship or not. And the very fact is proven by how much fun we've had outside of Google as well. I hope this friendship continues even as you all strut off to work and I settle down with my books! :) P.S. You all can take turns in treating me - after all, you'll be earning! :-P 

My college pals! My college life is defined by you all. I don't think I would've enjoyed even half of what I did if I was in any other Combination. PyEJ is not a class, it's an identity. A personality trait ingrained in all of us. You guys have been the best! And the only bit of that looooong graduation address I caught was "You will make many friends in your life but the college friends are those you keep forever".

Repstar - This swamiji of yours has totally become your disciple in learning how to let go and have fun. I'll miss your warmth and compassion towards us and that right-out-of-a-shampoo-ad hair! 

Sirchi Mirchi - We've made everyone deaf by our melodious rendition of Livin' in my OUWN world! E-mail will never let us down as we discuss the technicoloured lives of Hayavadana and our cutie from MJTH!!! 

Foo Foo Princess - We've had Chats, Chit Chats and you've managed to get me to try that raw mango with toxic green lethal chutney also! My life has been sprinkled with spice thanks to you..and we'll definitely continue our tradition of violating birthday cakes even in our Backpacking trip! 

Sauce wali red! - I still have that first e-mail you wrote me! I'm probably preserving it to show your kids how reluctantly shy you were at first....and now? The word isn't Shy. It's Sigh. How DO we get you to shut up? :-P You've redefined red! 

J Lo with Twinkle Toes - The ONLY person who's even attempted in getting me to shake a leg. Clearly, I'm not meant to do it. But you still dance with me! I'll kidnap you from Dubai just to take you shopping....so that I look more like a normal college girl and less like a pre-teen wannabe fresh out of Weekender Kids. 

Techie Tingu!! We've had a looooong connection...from the crow to maaaaaam to front and back! Really, Sanskrit classes wouldn't have been this memorable..in fact, I really don't remember what we've studied..but I remember how we've studied them! We'll be in touch until our bled stays red. :-P 

Register ki Rani - My cute little anda who's so mature and dignified now! Your perfect attendance has meant that you've lit up my life every single day of college! Just remember to close your windows during sandstorms and give the Internet some good exercise by constantly staying in touch! 

Pingu Penguin, Scandalized, Rasam Kali.....a big big hug to you all....for that 1000 watt smile, the tales in your house and the chubby chubby hands. 

No matter which direction we all disperse in, whether we stay in touch or not, you guys will always be 'The guys'. It's really hard to find new friends after you all have set such high standards! Looks like I'll be coming away from college with that Snooty Carmelite attitude after all. It is not going to be easy settling in a new place after leaving this home.....but your memories, experiences and idiosyncrasies are going to make it like cake-walk. (and in my line of study, if someone glances at my glazed daydreaming expression, they might end up classifying me into Axis I disorders!- but it's worth taking that risk!)  

If THIS big post of self praise I've meted out to you all wont get you to read my blog, seriously, NOTHING will! 

A very very humble thank you. :-) 

Two Decades and a Dozen Months

It has been a year since I cribbed about turning twenty. This time however, I shall not rant. I shall instead, wish for a couple (okay, much more than a couple) of things that can possibly make me forget the fact that I am indeed turning twenty one. 

So here come the twenty one wishes (in random order) that can positively make my twenty first year a joyride. (quite literally, in one case.) 

1) Nigella Lawson!! Will someone please gag her, shove her and her larder in a big gunny sack and export her to Bangalore? Pretty please? Every time I watch her show, I drool so much that Pavlov and his dog must be giving me a standing ovation from up there. 

2) A customized BMTC bus that will appear miraculously in front of my college every time I think about going home. That way, I don't have to reach home in a grumpy mood after having broken my thigh bone by an 8 year old who decides my lap is more fun to dance on than maybe.....the floor of the bus? Most of the times, I love traveling by buses. It's one of these rare instances that completely spoil that joyride for me.

3) Delhi in Bangalore. I WANT Delhi in Bangalore. I miss Delhi so much, I can picture Evergreen ka chaatwalla in my dreams on particularly hungry nights....and days even. Bangalore is home, but Delhi is where a part of my heart still remains. Why cant I mix the two cities like that horribly sexist Axe ad?

4) Websites that don't give you the preview of an essay-that will be very useful for your English exam research-only to wait for you to scroll down and then scream out 'YOU CAN BUY THE FULL ESSAY FOR $8.59 ONLY!!!!' Really, computers are supposed to be the storehouse of knowledge, not a warehouse. 

5) Unlimited supply of Lay's Magic Masala. You know, the type that will not make you puke even if you crunch down 7-8 packs at a time. I can only go past one. The second one makes me queasy and the final one brings out the other two. :-( 

6) A Mindwriter. When I'm not yapping (on rare rare occasions), my mind is constantly yapping inside, if you get what I mean. I could probably write a really funny book with the kinda stuff I think...but I forget it all very fast. I wish I could have something that writes down everything that goes on in my mind only to read on a grey day.  Also, I wouldn't need to type this out so meticulously after forming grammatically correct sentences. 

7) A book wishing spell. It's like I really wish I have this book and POOF! It turns up! And if I get bored halfway (which sadly happened to a certain Russian Classic writer I was reading) then by wishing so, the entire book should be read without my knowledge. Just in case I need to show off that I've read the book, and quote a line or two, then it would be cool! 

8) Water bottles that don't get opened by anyone other than me. I'm stingy with water OK? I hate sharing water and believe it must be a fundamental duty of every citizen to bring their own freakin bottles to college so that my bottle doesn't get passed around like some purple toy. 

9) A Pizza cake. Has anyone ever made that? It would be nice though...with a pizza-ish filling and a crumbly crust with cheese as icing and olives as the sugar balls. 

10) A pair of Self-exercising shoes. I've given up trying to exercise a long time ago. Maybe I can get a pair of shoes that will promptly start exercising the moment they're worn. By me, that is. Or if someone can invent a wireless connection wherein other people exercising can burn my calories, then that would be perfectly alright. 

11) A security alarm for my Psychology notes and record. Something that will blare out if they have been displaced from my bag. Or maybe I should get them insured somewhere. 

12) A brand new memory! Something that will remember every face, book, movie, textbook and experience of my life. I've been getting rather cold looks from people I cannot place. Wait now, what is the mineral responsible for good memory? Is it Iron? 

13) People who laugh at my superstitions must be jinxed to immediately babble out one deep dark embarrassing secret of theirs. So I have a lucky (fine...and unlucky) song. And I believe in the 'One for sorrow Two for joy' crow thingy. It's worked for twenty years. I think that's good enough evidence to justify its miraculous powers, thanks. 

14) A backpack that can hold everything and still appear tiny. Hermione, are you listening? 

15) Contact lenses that scream out in agony when I try to put them in old solution. At least that way, I'll remember to change the solution every day. It really is tough with my memory and all. Honest. 

16) A mini planner executive person thingy in my mind that goes Go now to room 15, you have class there or Today is the last day of the extended version of your extended deadline to submit English assignment. FINISH it. It really would help. Most of the times, I seem to be floating in a parallel world with a dazed expression. Except, I am not romantic film heroine thinking of dream sequences with hero. I am generally thinking of what to eat next, or which notes haven't been completed, or something equally intriguing. 

17) An age changing potion. So that sometimes, when I feel I want to be pampered like a five year old by my family, I can go back to that age. Or if I want to watch TV like a 70 year old granny, then I can go forward in time. 

18) A mini chaat stall at home. I love chaat. Everyone should have chaat stalls at home. Its a pity the home made chaat never tastes like chaat. It just tastes...well...like its been made at home. 

19) An alarm clock that will alter the Greenwich Mean Time if I want to oversleep. That way, I'll never feel guilty for being late to any place. They're running on my time anyway. 

20) One of those mini retort books that will immediately tell me which smart ass comment I am supposed to make if I am rebuked by someone. In most situations, I end up standing befuddled and the person just walks away. I need to make a witty retort at that moment, not in my diary three hours later, or even worse, in my memory for at least 5 months. 

and finally, my twenty first wish for my twenty first birthday is -

21) To have all of this come true. Can it? Do you see that mail van anywhere? 

Note to self:

1) When unwanted person (say, someone who you wished and prayed all your life would never have the good fortune to see your radiant face again. Ever.) strays in your path in the crowded corridors of college culturals, please DO NOT find nearest room (only to find out Tamil Essay writing is going on there)  to run into or hide behind ghastly (but very nicely painted) picture of Snow White. Also, don't try and pretend you don't know who the person is (and then look out if he is around just to dash into other obscure rooms. Now that the incident has occurred and you have done both of the above, DON'T sit and re-live that painful, traumatic and melodramatic sequence all over again for the five hundred and twentieth time in your mind. 

2) When you enter the cinema hall in the dark, it is generally a good thing to hold friend's hand. Knowing how poised you are, you will trip and fall almost flat on someone else's face. It's dark and all, true, but still. People do have good vision in the dark once the rods and cones have adjusted their light settings. Wearing very bright striped t-shirt does not help either. 

3) Seats in theatres don't go down by themselves, you have to push them and sit. Not sit on them and push. That just makes you look incredibly tall. And slightly foolishly uncomfortable. 

4) When someone takes the trouble of complimenting you, don't stare at them as though they have contracted some rare form of malaria from the jungles of the Amazon. Smile and say 'Thanks'. Or at least, just smile. 

5) When you hear a particularly horrendous rendition of 'Zombie' in the Western Electric competition, it does not help to imitate the poor distressed soul and do the entire headbanging routine in front of your friends. There are people...and cameras around you. Cameras that are capturing the entire culturals and putting it on some website. And people who are writing about the culturals. Now go meekly to your room and pray that the editor of that website has the enlightenment not to put your radiant face on his website. (face might not be seen, fortunately. Only one pony going up and down. But that bright striped t-shirt will give you away again.) 

I've managed to accomplish all of the above in just one day. I'm turning into Bridget Jones. Or some equally interesting person who manages to embarrass herself on occasions when the density of human species is particularly high.