Time to fly? Sigh!

I was four when I stepped into an airplane for the first time. I was allowed to wander down the aisle, collide into the stewardesses who loaded my fists with candy, and basically smile benignly at all the passengers as if they were attending a feast thrown in my honour. I remember thinking back then that I should do this kind of thing more often and flying is the best thrill of life.

Fast forward sixteen years and you have a different me. One who steps out of the plane and looks upward in silent prayer that she's landed on solid ground. Whose knees are actually shaking (not because the pilot is cute) but because she is finally out of the big bird of the skies. I have 3 weeks of fun and sun to look forward to, but at some teeny tiny corner in my brain, I'm dreading the flight back! What makes me think like that, you ask? Here begins my 'adventure in air' (like those Famous Five books...except mine was not all that adventurous, but for my decidedly boring life, I'd like to call it that, thanks very much.)

1) I enter the airport two hours early, misjudging the distance between the airport and my college (which is only 10 minutes, but I conclude that it is halfway across the universe.) I check in, complete security check and rush towards the McDonalds counter gleefully to grab myself a humongous glass of Iced Tea to last me the wait.

2) I meet a kindred spirit who is also going home and we indulge in a lengthy conversation about everything and beyond. (I asked her name about an hour after we chat!) My flight is now boarding and I step into the plane.

3) It's a new airplane and there are screens in every seat. My antiseptic alter-ego makes me use my iPod headphones instead of the ones they provide. So ear infection has successfully been prevented. The flight takes off and I settle down to watch some weird movie involving a camera that sees the future. (It was called Aa Dekhen Zara, something I figured out when the credits were rolling and the title track came on at the end!)

4) The food is served, I devour the chocolate brownie, spinach quiche and indistinguishable paneer and check the time- around two hours to go, I realise, and look out - the fright begins then.

5) It is considerably dark outside, and the sun is melting slowly into the sea of sky. The aircraft wing lights are blinking in rhythm and the flight cruises on the blanket of clouds.

6) Suddenly, I feel the bumps. What begins as a harmless thud escalates into positive bumping, like the plane is riding on the Gurgaon road filled with potholes. The pilot switches on the seatbelt sign and the stewardess screams in the PA about not getting up from the seats. At one point, she actually screams 'Get back to your seat MAAM and don't get out until I SAY SO!' (she sounds exactly like a hijacker and I begin to wonder if they learn these dialogues from them.)

7)I distract myself and look outside the window. Big Mistake. I can see the sky lighting up every couple of seconds. Lightning, it suddenly strikes me! (Not the actual lightning, but the thought.) I see it stab the clouds viciously every few seconds, inching closer and closer to the aircraft. I look around frantically if anyone has noticed it - everyone is so engrossed seeing Bipasha Basu gyrating in a sleazy Thai pub, that they apparently don't deem it necessary to write out their last wishes (which might never be found anyway, so they have a point.)

8) As the flight trembles more violently, I wonder if it's a good time to listen to that devotional channel in the aircraft audio and bribe god to make us land carefully. I look out again, the lightning becomes brighter and closer. I wonder if I should try and salvage my original certificates and passport from that overhead cabin while jumping out of the plane. I wonder when the stewardess will instruct the emergency exit passengers to 'co-operate' and open the doors in mid-air.

9) The flight stops trembling and swoops down, as if to attack it's prey. I cautiously look out again, and this time I see an iridescent city glowing below me. The lighting has passed, so have the clouds, and all that remains is the city below the aircraft. I wonder if he's making an emergency landing in some other city.

10) It turns out that we've finally reached our destination, and as the flight touches the runway, the breaks come on at full speed but the flight just goes on and on....the airport passes us (or we pass it) and the flight still refuses to stop. (The aeromaniac in me tells me that we might have skid on the wet runway and will end up overshooting it). It finally stops thunderously close to the boundary wall and I hear a collective sigh of relief. It turns out everyone on the flight has been just as paranoid.

I've flown a dozen times this year alone, and this has GOT the be the worst flight ever. Blame it on the weather, or the grudging pilots (incidentally, the airline I flew is on an indefinite strike since yesterday!) or my aeromania, but in three weeks I'll have to fly again. Sigh.

The owl finally hooted!

Ooh! This is my 50th blog post! Yay! (For a lazy journalism student who should, technically have crossed this milestone years ago...it IS a big achievement OK?) So anyway, it is a ripe afternoon as I write this....my laptop tells me the time is 12.12...and it gets me thinking of the bewitching midnight hour...

For all you guys who know me, I'm the goody goody thing who goes to sleep at 10 every night and wakes up bright and cheery every morning...sometimes trying to give the rising sun an inferiority complex! But circumstances have spoilt me! The sun seems to overtake me these days and I seem to overtake the moon! In less complicated words, I now know what the world looks like past bedtime thanks to insomniac friends, messenger (if my fingers cramp due to excessive typing and I walk around with bandaged hands, I'll have a lot to say to you Sneh!) , lots of assignments and just dull boredom (which completely evaporates the moment I decide to stay online!)

Remember in childhood, when you would be given special permission to stay up late and greet a visiting relative from abroad (since they ALWAYS choose to fly in at unearthly hours) or even stay up on a weekend to watch an entire movie on the TV? Those were rare privileges that I treasured....and was filled with awe that Mr.Night is letting me stay up and watch him ageing! That soon gave way to slumber parties where no one knew when it was night and when it was day! We'd just stay up all the time....and watch the hours melt into one another! :-)

Even on birthdays, I've always been the weirdo who calls up early in the morning to wish the disgruntled birthday baby with a nauseous cheery greeting! I've never been the midnight wisher, simply thinking that they would hate to be disturbed in the middle of their deep sleep by that nauseous greeting! Conversely I have always threatened to kill people in cold blood if they dared give me even a missed call on my birthday! But this year changed all that.....not only did I stay up ALL night (Thanks, you guys...if you'd told me you'd be gate-crashing to give me a surprise, I'd have worn more decent nightclothes and not be embarrassed to put the pics up on FB!). I cut a cake, two dessert pizzas, painted a T shirt, ate chips...and received calls...things I would ordinarily do in my dreams every birthday! The freezing party on my terrace really showed me what it's like to stay up all night on your birthday!

And Google, of course....we stayed on the terrace one entire night just to catch the sunrise! And then trooped off to bed early mornings....our nocturnal instincts were so sharp back then....I don't think I've ever stayed so alert at 1 in the night to play Musical Chairs! I think that's the reason why after I got back home, my mom kept shooing me away when I would eagerly plan the 'night's' agenda....I had lost any sense of day or night and would be irritatingly active only at night! It took me a few bleary eyed moments (and sharp glares from teachers as I stifled yawn after yawn) in Literature class to realise that days would be days and I'd have to straighten my biological clock!

Since then, I've been back on schedule....sleeping early and waking early...but now suddenly everything has become Topsy Turvy all over again! I seem to sleep way after my laptop clock warns me it's 00:00. I seem to sleep en route to college and yawn throughout the day...but when nighttime strikes again, I seem to be up for a roller coaster ride! Really, somethings happened and my clock has taken a hike....the lark has decided to call it a day and the owl has finally hooted!

Nibbles of Nostalgia

I'm twenty one now. I should stop using these blasted alliterated titles, REALLY. People generally write a post, and then spend hours together finding a suitable title. I, however, decide to write a post based on a good title.

Moving on, don't you think rain somewhat clears the sinuses in your memory and makes you remember so many gorgeous moments you've had? This post is one of those sorts.....some fun times I've had in the rains, which needed to be recorded somewhere...so I can clear that slate and start over the next time it rains. (and Ms.Nature forgets to turn off the taps when it rains in Delhi.)

The sun has finally decided to play peek-a-boo and has warmed up the soggy city.....and these past rainy days transported me to so many recent memories of rain...all of which included the same three of us and ice cream, incidentally! So you guys, if this post wont make you want to bunk your college and hang out with me when I get there, NOTHING will!

Hmm....the first time was Reenu's birthday. (Yes, I got your message last night...about the 'anniversary' of discovering a certain food item and it got me thinking!) After making her open those twenty wacky presents, we whisked her off to Cream and Fudge Factory in the rain! The ice cream is sort of vaguely present in my mind (it involved a lot of sprinkles) but the impromptu decision of eating that roadside Gobi Manchurian in the rain is etched ever so clearly! And then riding back with the cold biting wind and frozen drops of drizzle on Hosur Road!

Then came Sneha's college fest! Aaah..that was such a memory! After spending the entire day judging events (sigh, it was such hard work! ), the rock concert was generously given a washing down! I know, Sneha went around running from pillar to post (quite literally you know) trying to prevent the stage from collapsing on Avial, but Reenu and I thoroughly enjoyed the whole experience! (okay, before you include it in your comments, I'll concede that I needed some convincing to get my new shirt wet in the rain..but I did in the end you know!) Including all that slush and mush on the sneakers that weighed down on us so heavily! After getting so completely drenched, we trekked back onto Hosur Road to catch that bus back home. We waited under that bridge with some shady characters...wondering if we should just camp in the college for the night! When we got onto some bus and reached the Silk Board Junction, we had to swim our way through to the next bus stop! And I mean swim! We managed to get up on some broken wall and walked on it precariously as if we were practicing for Miss India (they would've been proud of us though...one tiny slip and we'd be Miss Kichad instead!). After actually touching real, solid ground, wet with only the rainwater, we ran towards another bus that would finally take us home. When we reached home, it began raining again...I don't know why, but I never felt the need to run for shelter....even that late at night, we walked as if it was a bright sunny day and reached home so merrily, my family wondered if I had caught a severe form of head cold that had affected my sensibility!

The last memory is recent...when we went to see that movie at Inox near home. Yeah yeah, so it rained inside the theatre for different reasons...but once we got out, it was actually raining. This time again, we just walked so lazily in the drizzle and ate that scrumptious ice cream in the Fake Corner House. (I'm the biggest fan of Corner house but the ambiance of the Fake one takes the Cake..and the whipped cream on it!) I remember as we walked back, people kept giving us weird looks about how three carefree girls can just waddle in the rain when people run towards cover.....somehow it never affected us....we roamed all around Jayanagar that day, not even realizing that rain is supposed to be a hindrance! If that wasn't enough, we actually rode triples on a bike in the rain!

These three things have happened at different times of the year...not really in the monsoon, and still somehow every time we meet, it rains! I dunno...there is something about our meeting and the rain playing host! And there's something intoxicating about Bangalore rains...sort of makes you want to go out right away and eat ice-cream! Do you think the monsoons will be generous enough to extend themselves for three more weeks?

A journey called JAM!

Two months ago, if you were to throw the word 'Jam' at me, I'd think "Umm...mixed fruit? Maybe with buttered toast?" I have been that naive about traffic jams despite having lived in what people often call the most 'jammed' city of India. (Tell me, where do they see jams in Bangalore? I mean, every time I tell people I'm from Bangalore, they go 'Oh, the traffic is so bad there' Honestly people, have you not SEEN Delhi traffic?)

A typical day starts with me wondering whether I'll be stuck in 3 jams today or 4. At my age people wonder about so many more productive things - Their future, for instance (Something that would be jeopardized if there are 5 jams and they don't make it to class on time), Their family (Who might also be stuck in jams scattered around the city), Their Love, maybe (Yeah, because 'Soul' mates are often found on the road, holding up the collar of a fellow driver and singing profanity to him hence successfully causing another one of those jamthings.)

But no, I choose to wonder about the Jams, the flavours they come in, their tastes and my cavities for having indulged in so many of them.

Let's start with a typical day jammed with jams. I set off primly, clothes all ironed and resembling the 'after' part of a detergent ad (only to resemble the 'before' part as soon as I step out, thanks to the Weather Lord who makes us sweat and Lady Humidity who wont let it dry)

The first jam starts right at the end of the road. The perpetrator? A majestic Bull. So majestic, that he chooses to ignore the Monday-Morning-Blued irate drivers of swanky cars. (Secretly, I bet these guys wish they had the power of that bull) I wait patiently until the Bull finishes his morning job, avoid the spot delicately, and move on.

Then comes the next jam, (I've become accustomed to so many of them, I have favorites!) This one is near the Metro Construction site. Mini Jam, I tell myself as I look up in silent prayer to Ms.Sheila Dikshit and ask her to finish the Gurgaon-Delhi belt of metro SOON! It passes, and so do we.

Then comes the TollJam. This is caused by people who either have grandiose personality disorder (and think they own Delhi, Gurgaon, the expressway...basically the entire world) or those who have dyslexia (and CANNOT differentiate between a 'Tag' lane and a 'Cash' lane). There are those rare specimens who have Anterograde Amnesia and 'forget' they are in the wrong lane. Everyday.

Finally comes the 15 minutes of bliss. The vast expanse of the expressway coupled with an occasional flight that swoops down to land in the airport on the left takes my mind off the wretched you-know-whats.

We then exit the expressway and enter the Royal Gaspberry Jam. Gasp, you ask? Well, when there is no traffic, I gasp (Oh wow, it must be my lucky day!) When there is little traffic, I gasp (Oh no, the peak hour is gone and that means I'm definitely late) and when there is heavy traffic, I gasp (This one exceeds my last record in length of jams!)

The Gaspberry jam can last anywhere between 5 minutes to 45 minutes. It all depends on karma, my friend. Do good, and you'll drive good. I have, however, found ways to pass my time in what I call 'The significant moments of my day'.

a) I contemplate life. Without cars, that is. I wonder if Rama and Sita were ever stuck in a Chariot Jam..oh wait, they spent most of their public lives in the forests...so my focus shifts to Mahabharata and the wars that might have caused traffic hold-ups...especially since these elephants get a little antsy when there are too many crown-clad people (Read: The new Mani Ratnam movie and the elephant rampage) And so it goes on....

b) I look out. Remember my staring hobby in that other blog post? Well, it comes to full use here. I look at the people around me. Flustered office people who keep looking at the watch with the frequency of blinks, angry auntiejis who have to rush and deliver forgotten books to children at schools, serene drivers who listen to the music enter a robotic trance, Army men (who are mostly expressionless but their good looks more than makes up for that) Once I saw a car full of hippies as well...matted hair and everything..kind of an oxymoron innit? Hippies in Air conditioned cars?

Aaah...I see that the traffic has finally cleared and the jam has now been eaten up by the cars. I turn into the blessed, empty road that curves towards college and finish my day's ramblings.

So the next time you ask me where I'm from and I say 'Bangalore', don't even make the mistake of bleating out 'Oh, the traffic is so bad there!' I might just transform into those collar-holding-gaali-maarofying rowdies and gag you, throw you inside the car and take you to college everyday with me!

CPR for comatose Blog.

If personalities were colours, then the trait of self-obsession would be the new 'pink'! I honestly need to get a grip and move on to other things in life...but till then, I might as well indulge in good ol 'pouring out my soul' rituals in these tag things!

4 places I've lived in :

Bangalore, Delhi, Chennai, Hyderabad.

4 TV shows that I like to watch :

Madhur Jafferey's Flavours of India, New Detectives on Discovery Channel (I dont think it is aired anymore though) , Small Wonder (in English, Hindi, Kannada, Tamil...bring it on in any language, it's always a delight!) and a certain anonymous Hindi serial that I am rather ashamed of admitting on the world wide web.

4 places that I've been to, on vacation :

Hm? My most memorable? Shimla-Nainital-Devprayag-Haridwar-Rishikesh '97 (One trip) , Durgapur (West Bengal) '96 , Goa '03 and Singapore '02.

4 Favourite food items :

• Rasam rice with Papad.
• Dessert Pizzas
• Cinnamon Toast
• Gulab Jamun with Ice Cream.

4 places I would rather be :

• Home (I'm not complaining though. I just wish it was closer)
• Burkina Faso (on Mondays mostly)
• Egypt
• Greece

4 websites that I visit everyday :

• Hotmail (Yeah, some of us still use the thing)
• Gmail
• Delhi University website (for a long long time)
• My Blog. (To re-read my stale posts.)

4 things that I hope to do before I die :

Bring a smile on a face everyday. (very Miss-India-ish no? But I did bring a smile on a little kid's face today, and well...it was a beautiful feeling.)

Go backpacking across Europe.

Make the perfect Chocolate cake. (and pancakes, while I'm at it)

Write a book.

4 novels I wish I was reading for the first time :

• Roald Dahl's Matilda
• R.K. Narayan's Malgudi Days
• Anuja Chauhan's The Zoya Factor
• The entire Enid Blyton series.

4 movies that I can watch over and over again... :

• You've Got Mail :-) Isnt it one of the most delightful movies ever?
• Andaz Apna Apna
• Mozhi
• Ganeshana Maduve (ever watched this Anant Nag flick? It beats the socks off all Kannada movies!)

Do I need to tag this to anyone? I dont think people have been reading this blog anymore anyway....the paltry few who did read it might have given it up for good thinking it is history....until I find some effective revival strategy for my comatose blog, I'll leave it open for anyone to tag and be tagged.

Head over Reels

I like Hindi Movies and I cannot lie. To frown down on them disdainfully, I really try. But it just doesnt work. On the outside I can appear as a pseudo-artsy type who will discuss French and Iranian films, Mis-en-scene and Montages. But inside, I'm a Hindi movie freak. I can burst into a little jingle if the movie of my choice is playing anywhere around me. 

It started with Hum Aapke Hain Kaun....a fitting movie title for my first tryst with cinema, dont you think? While my parents fidgeted in their seats, waiting for those fourteen songs to get over and be done with, I was starstruck! I watched in delight at Salman's gaudy clothes, Madhuri's gollywog hairstyle and her sister's Colgate smiles. Even now, Pehla Pehla Pyaar hai happens to be my all-time favorite song despite the small pleas of my sensible mind which tells me that they are mutilating the pool table on which they sing it. 

Then came Baazigar and Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge. My folks recall how my cousins and I would squeeze into the boot of our old Maruti 800 and sing Yeh Kaali kaali aankhen. They never gave up hoping that we'd stop if some passing car might take pity on us and give some loose change! And Mere Khwabon mein jo Aaye made getting wet in the rain the ultimate ambition of every little girl! Baazigar was actually censored for me, I was not allowed to watch the last few scenes, due to their gory nature....actually, I still havent watched them......and I have no idea how it ends....but I'm sure Shahrukh takes his revenge and the hero shall triumph...not letting me down. 

DDLJ, however, I have watched over and over again. I never get tired of those songs, the ridiculous dialogues and Kajol's weird clothes. Everytime, I sit on the edge of my seat biting my nails as Simran runs down the platform to grasp Raj's hand in the last scene. It just has some magic that will never fade away. 

Kuch Kuch Hota Hai was my next muse. I think I wanted to watch the movie on the day before my Math exam....the only time I had ever rebelled against studying! I clearly didn't have much practice in rebelling because I didn't get my way and had to finish fractions before watching Rahul explain the funda about Romeo and Juliet. The little kid in the movie was so charming, and a flood alert was issued at the very beginning of the movie in Swagath theatre, as I began my crying spells the moment the movie began with the funeral. 

Then came Kaho Naa Pyar Hai....I still remember the shock Sneha and I got when Hritik fell off the bridge and drowned. We could NOT accept that the hero dies, that too in the first half of the movie. The duplicate never convinced me completely...but I decided to adjust. :-P and take it with a pinch of salt. 

Dil Chahta Hai was THE film in my 10th std. I remember how the songs became such a rage, as did Goa. Incidentally, I did go to Goa that year, but came back hugely disappointed with all my filmy expectations thrashed. Aamir Khan, however, became my perfect Hero and in some quaint corner of my mind, I cherish the dream of being shown Sydney the way it comes in the movie, with the helicopter et al. 

Since then I've fallen in and out of love with Shahrukh in Swadesh, Veer Zaara, Main Hoon Na, Don, Aamir in Lagaan, Fanaa, Ghajini, Rang De Basanti, Ranbir Kapoor in Saawariya, Imran Khan in Jaane Tu and even both the protagonists in Dostana! 

I have never disliked a movie that I've watched in a theatre. (Ok, except Aap Mujhe Achche Lagne lage...I mean, even the actors will second me on that one). I've laughed, cried, sang and danced in all those movies. I wonder how people can frown upon these movies being shallow and lame. But that's what retains the charm and the distinction of something being a fantasy and not a boring chunk of real life. 

Logically, the plots makes as much sense as scubadiving in a sewer. Still I get tickled to no end while watching Andaaz Apna Apna (The king of logic defying movies). The first thing I do every morning is scan the papers to see if any over-the-top, melodramatic, ultra-filmy movie is playing. My day is made if it is! I know after reading this blog-long torture of the magic in hindi movies, you all would be rolling your eyes and saying 'Grow Up'....what can i say? I'm head over reels in love with Hindi Movies! 

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.