My bed of roses

Past few months have been quite uneventful which includes my lazing over to update this space. I have been fixating myself into deep reading and I have finished over four books in two weeks (a personal record). Other than that I have been working over the still progressing, head spinning, life churning decisions of mine. And here is how a typical thought runs on its own winding over the nerves in my head.

"MBA! Time for me to do a PG." (Yaaawn).

"But which college do I choose? Screw those sinister exams. CAT, MAT, RAT, SNAP, CRAP, FMS, JMET, blah, blah, blah! Hmmmmmmmmm."

"Wait-a-minute, should I go for this?" (Fingers playing with my hair)

"I should definitely revive my job hunting strategies for now – getting back to books is scary and I want to be done with exams forever! Somebody banish them!"

"But I ain’t gonna go back to those scrawny techie jobs; remember you swore it to yourself the last time!"

"But then what is the other better option???" (Biting the corners of my mouth)

Imaginations on the roll-day dreaming; whatever it’s called

SNAP! "No seriously! What should I do???"

Now I think of a million ways to escape the next train of thoughts that’s on its way

Nature’s call, gotta run / Raid the fridge / Got to finish this book / Nap time! / Vigorously starts typing texts over the phone / Spiteful urge to irritate someone in the house      

Oh yes, and those taunting neighbors and relatives (relatively unknown to me) who can’t just wait to get me married off.

I would say, “You people ain’t getting rid off me that quick.”

They would flabbergast, “OMG!!! You do have someone in your life, don’t you? Do your parents know? Who is the guy? What about religion and caste? OMGGGGG!!!! ”

They never fail to render me speechless.

I would shoot back, “Now when did I say that?????”

They would then begin with their mantras on life (in Lola Kutty style) “All girls are like that now. They introduce and decide everything on their own caring the least of what parents think. We know you are not like that but you shouldn’t keep your parents waiting. Now be a good girl and no fooling around. We will help you find some good desi boys who can fly you to I-Am-Erica. We just want to see you happily married off before we go to our graves.”

I would think “Why don’t I just dig them up for you myself right now!” “#!/= @&^?%*!$~#”

I smile back at them politely like a doll wishing I could say a lot more but sadly goes unsaid.

2 decades and 4 years

Date: June 1^st, 1986

Time: 1:00 am

The day when the world celebrates the international children’s day was a perfect opening to my arrival. Mom says that I was of no trouble at all and that she actually enjoyed her time at the hospital munching on jell-o, yogurt and chicken.

Date: June 1st, 2010

Time: 10:15 am

Here I am today making a soft and quite landing on 24. There goes another year of my life. Yes, I am getting old. Can’t help sighing over how quick the years roll by with the wink of an eye. I wonder if I am ‘old enough’ to start scanning my face for wrinkles or worry over when that nasty grey is going to sprout over some unknown corner of my head or if I should get my memories regularly checked, in case they are beginning to fade. Okay! I am going overboard but the fact is it gets quite uneasy going through this day as the years go by. Getting old sucks and I find solace in scourging adulthood on the heaping responsibilities that fall upon endlessly (sometimes out of nowhere) making life stagnant, timeless and ‘un-awesome’. I love the independence and so cherish for more but running the errands are tough. I don’t deny that being an adult is fun but it gradually wears out with age and finally one decides to ‘settle down somewhere with that someone’ and then the routine starts running on its own as though time has jinxed itself. Baah!

Just a funny memory made me smile right now. I was at kindergarten and it was my birthday; the only day I wouldn’t have to wear those pinafores. So, I got chocolates for everyone and as per tradition, had to stand up front listening to friends sing to me. I remember going through the dilemma (yes, at such young age) if I should sing along with them. It was my first time under the spotlight and I couldn't remember other kids singing on their D-days since I had my eyes locked on their chocolate boxes and lips desperately trying to sync in with the others. Eventually I made up my mind and started to sing! Funny part is no body found it odd. Thank God those kids weren’t so bright then unlike now.            

            

Anyway it’s been two decades and four years here. Truly a pleasure in a million ways. It’s Happy Birthday to me! “Wink!”

The Buck Stops Here

The sad state of affairs with the IPL was something that was expected to happen sooner or later. Any person would ponder to look on to the other side of entertainment and realize the huge amounts of bucks flying around when our own governments are going nuts on how to shelf down the food prices. Not only has there been a betrayal of public trust but also how corruption was written all over and no one recognized those signs.

Enough has been said on the IPL issue but take a step back and look onto some of its positive side, something which I happen to read lately. Last year’s IPL in South Africa gave in a huge boost to its economy during the bad times along with the good work of promoting the country’s tourism and infrastructure. Schools in each of the host cities where given scholarships and other opportunities which uplifted and brought back lost hopes to the students. The games then were a fine example of entertainment through cricket and community recognition as a social cause.

Unsurprisingly when IPL came to India, none of this even happened. Because everything here has to be tagged in with glamour, Bollywood, parties, ego clashes, cheer girls and Page3. Oh! And yes the big bucks on the roll. Cricket is no more a game. It’s another one of those emerging businesses where you embroil to make ‘easy money’.

Source: The Hindu

Bachao!

Yes, that is what I would scream out when a movie turns out so sour that I end up strangling myself for watching it. This is usually what I would do in general but if it’s an exclusive ‘treat’ from bollywood, then it gets uglier. I’ve been watching bollywood grow (or degrade) through the years since the day I have learnt to understand the language. In the late 80’s and early 90’s, the movies were so caught up in unraveling the twists and turns in the very popular and monotonous theme of ROMANCE, either woven out by a cheesy writer or partially or completely borrowed from the other film fraternities.

Every movie had an incredibly audacious hero by the names Raj/Rohit/Aman/Rahul/Vijay (sometimes with a sidekick called Mitto or Bittu or Chintu) who had fallen in love with the gracious Pooja/Tina/Priya/Sapna, with one of them from a super rich clan and the other clamped in poverty. The plot usually works out on how the couple fights on tirelessly till the end against the tyrants with wild names like Rocky/Tiger/Vicky/Robert and with the inclusion of the infamous dialogue from the lead female “Mujhe Bacha Lo!” every time the villains eye her. Oh and how could I go past without a mention on the sizzling songs where the lovebirds run around (yet managing to get the music notes a 10 on 10) with a 100 or something dancers out of nowhere amidst the rain, snow and the ‘holy smoke’.    

Ok, I quit with the mockery but I simply cannot help it. Today bollywood in its utmost glorified version has a mass appeal all over and I wonder what has happened to the world.  Movies that kill me are the ones with huge numbers rolling by their side and the ones that I get impressed with turn out to be among the lowest of the lowest in the box office. Inspite of being a part of today’s Gen-X, I find appeal in watching the wonders of Nasseruddin Shah and Om Puri and off late Paresh Rawal. Why are filmmakers so hesitant to portray the messages that are important in the real world? And why do actors go on signing such blunt movies that makes you want to throw a brick at them? Movies like Parzania, A Wednesday, Road to Sangam make it to the limelight once in a blue moon and yet are over shadowed by the supercilious and glamour-obsessed film industry and its audiences.

Bride at 9, divorcee at 10

That is the title that caught my attention from an edition of The Times of India. Out of curiosity, I checked out the article. What I read after that was shocking and sick to the core. The story of Nujood Ali strangely resembles the Khaled Hosseini fiction: A Thousand Splendid Suns. I couldn’t help but write something about the ordeal that left the 12 year old Yemeni rot for over a year.

Nujood Ali, a regular school going girl from Yemen, who loved math and Quran classes, was forced into marriage at the age of 9 to a man old enough to be her father. She was raped on the first night of her wedding and regularly abused by her in-laws and so called husband, until she ran away two months after the wedding. With the help of a relative, she filed for divorce and was granted freedom later in the year becoming the youngest bride to legally end her marriage. With that she made headlines all over the world and was declared ‘Women of the Year’ in 2008 alongside Hillary Clinton and Nicole Kidman by Glamour magazine.      

Today her story is being told through her memoir "I Am Nujood, Age 10 and Divorced " composed by a French journalist and is appearing in about 19 languages world over. She and her sister are attending a private school at her hometown with the funds she received from her book. She says with a smile, "All I want now is to finish my education. I want to be a lawyer."

I simply couldn’t stop imagining her plight and how disgusting and insane people can get. It’s great to know how successfully she fought her way out through the agony but it’s heartbreaking to realize the pain in her at the time when she should have played with her dolls.

We all have been truly blessed with a roof above our heads and satisfied with our never ending desires to carve out our lives better than the others. One thought of what girls like Nujood go through, is enough to make our stomachs turn over.       

http://www.glamour.com/women-of-the-year/2008/nujood-ali-and-shada-nasser

The Unexpected!

Believe it or not! I have been awarded with the beautiful blogger award! Yaayy! It finally feels great to be recognized for what you write rather than estimating one’s blog by the number of visitors dropping down for a peep.

Anyways, I have been awarded by my little friend Magali @ Life etc. Thanks a lot! XOXO!     

There are a few rules for the award, some of which I thought were absurd. I will just put up what is necessary.

1. Share 7 things about yourself.

2. Pass on the awards to 6-7 different bloggers who you think are the best.

It's as simple as that. So let me kickoff with my 7 "characteristic features".

1.Born and breed for more than half of my life in the tiniest pearl island - Bahrain. Proud to be part of two unique countries.

2. I dream on opening up my own book store when I get really old. Books on everything you could possibly imagine. I even have ideas on having small reading sessions for kiddies (inspired from 'You've Got Mail'). Reading makes up most of my life and is absolutely necessary for my survival.    

3.I used to be a super nerd back in school with real geeky glasses. But I guess I straightened out alright in the end. I used to be the typical teenager with pimples, mouth full of braces, long stubborn hair and yes my dorky glasses.

4. I have to spend at least an hour everyday on my own. Maybe to reflect on varied ideas, think of how or where I will end up in 10 years or just sit there staring into the green and play with my hair with music.

5. Close friends say that I am a lot sweeter than required and that people get an incredible urge to take advantage of this. It’s true to an extend but the fact is I ain’t that meek people!  

6. As a kid I have had a blend of transitions of what I would want to become when I grow up. Starting from being an astronaut, archeologist, painter (inspired by my mom), news reader cum reporter, author of a thriller (always been a dream), designer, social worker, a kindergarten teacher, editor and lately the bookstore dream.

7. I am an engineer by profession but it was never my cup of tea. I quit two jobs in a year and I am still in search of what I want.

So this is what I have got. And as per the tradition, I would like to present the awards to:

Anirban @ It's a Miracle!

Anand Nair @ Like a Fish in the Net

Dave Fry @ Dave Fry's Picture of The Day

Magali Vaz @ Life etc

Prerna Malik @ The Mom Writes

Sachith Rajagopal @ Perception

A Tribute

This is a tribute to a magazine that made up most of my childhood and teen years. “YOUNG TIMES – CELEBRATING THE SPIRIT OF YOUTH” by Khaleej Times. I still remember when my dad got me the magazine way back in 1995 and from then on I simply fell in love with it. I waited for every Tuesday evening after dad got back from work to grab on to my favourite comic strips (which included Marvin, Blondie, Hi and Lois, Archie, Hagar, Beetle Bailey and a bunch of others), those short fiction columns, awesome posters, classic cover stories, Sanjeev Kappor (of the Khana Khazana fame) columns, word puzzles, Stampaid by Uncle Malik, music countdowns and what not! Call me childish, but I would always make sure I wouldn’t end up reading everything in a single day and would carry on till Monday evening and get ready for Tuesday. Oh those days bring in such warm memories and truly wish I could go back in time.

This time when I got back to Bahrain, I must have gone to every single store in the island in search of the magazine, though in vain. I thought they must have stopped their sale in the country but ultimately a few day back I heard (via facebook) they halted the publication altogether which is why I was prompted to write something about this incredible journal which I am sure has been cherished by millions of children for the past 25 years or so.

After a dig into my old treasures, I caught hold of a few old copies dating back to 1999. These are a few snaps. (Apologies for the terrible flaw in my shots)