The dreaded cycle

 Every month, there is a particular date which scares me. Around a couple of day ahead of it, I start planning, frequently checking my phone messages and bank account. It’s the day my credit card bill gets generated. I wait for it like a student who has appeared for a test and knows how awfully they have done, they are also very sure which questions they got wrong, so they are almost certain what the ballpark result would be. Yet. 

The morning the bill hits my inbox I am a veritable skunk, spewing stink all over. Why did I have to buy this, or that or the other are the top guilt ridden questions. Let’s face it, I am hopeless at financial planning.  Generally when people make blanket stereotypical statements like women are bad at driving, my voice is the loudest to protest. But when it comes to the stereotype of finances I have to quieter down. I just don’t know where the months keep slipping and so does my money. 

I make plans to keep a check and not make huge purchases or come such. But every now and then something comes up and I am back to square one. When will I learn?

I have tried it all - apps which track your financial pattern, making lists in notebooks, planning out minute expenditures. I start off strong but some day, I slip. Maybe it is that discount on pretty dresses, or the visit to the mall, or that must-get iPad. :(

We’ll, here’s another month almost to the end, I am having that funny feeling in my stomach again. Let’s hope I am better next month. Fingers crossed

Weightless

 I am often writing poems and stories and random sentences which I find pretty and loquacious, but I mostly lose them to some unsaved drafts or old newspapers. So I have decided to bring wha I could salvage here. Here is the first among them. This was a short story I wrote some moths back.

As she stood at the precipice of time and the terrace, for the first time in a very long time, she was overcome by a calmness. All she needed to do was take a step and all will be well, There was of course the weightlessness. Suddenly, all the burdens were lifted magically - she would not have to worry anymore, she would not have to work herself to the bone, she would not have to listen to the constant barrage of others. There for a moment and several moments afterwards she flew, fluttered like a feather blown away by wind. That’s when she realised - she was the feather, going where the wind was taking her, with no agency of her own. All she needed to do was spread her wings. So she took a step back and almost hit the cross-crossing clothes lines, and went down the stairs where real life awaited her.

How do you go on when everything seems to have come to a standstill? Nobody said this will be simple, nobody said it will be easy. As she took each step through the dampened stairwell, she wondered how life brought her to this juncture. Starting over at fifty was difficult , and if that starting over was a matter of heart it was even more so. But love is love after all, it doesn’t know age. Madhura had loved when she was young. It was the love of youth, full of promises and whispers, but it was not to be. The young man who had charmed her off her feet with his witticism and poetry was an intellectual whose politics brought about his downfall. He was one of those many unnamed numbers who lost their lives in some bylane somewhere, gunned down probably. He just stopped coming to college one day and no one knew of his whereabouts. She knew what happened to him, everyone knew but were too scared to say it out aloud. They said he was missing, and from that day she lost her love. She made a silent vow to remain bethrothed to him for this lifetime and that was the road she took. In a family of seven siblings no one really bothered her to get married. The family was happy with her handling the finances. 

Only now, when suddenly life threw a fresh breath of air her way that her otherwise disinterested family suddenly woke up. Rahul was so far away from the young poet who had stolen her young heart. Maybe if he lived, he would be somewhere close to this man? Rahul held her hand and promised a life of comfort and dignity. No more of living in a room which was getting crowded and then over crowded by the hoard of increasing nephews and nieces. As the spinster aunt it was her job to be the babysitter, the caretaker of the parents and the owner of every other odd job that her married and hence otherwise occupied siblings could not take up. Somewhere between feeling sorry for her when grief first struck her and leading their own lives, everyone forgot about the girl and eventually the woman who was tending to a wound. Rahul was perhaps the first to understand and love her more for it. She was never considered a grown up who would have any opinions even though she would be financing things from painting the house to renovating the kitchen. It was only now, in the last couple of weeks, when Madhura told them that she was planning to get married that everyone suddenly woke up. 

‘Getting married! At this age?’

‘ what will people say?’

‘It’s your age to retire and you want to go for your honeymoon?’

‘Have you lost your mind?’

Taunts came thick and plenty from every quarter. Even the young children sniggered behind her back. As Madhura walked down, she thought to herself, all of them were so comfortable till I was paying the bills and behaving like a furniture. This real person with a heart and mind of her own had no place here. She stepped into her room where the nephews and nieces were scampering for space. They fell into a silence as she walked in. Madhura looked at the little faces, all rife with judgement and admonition. She got together a couple of things and started to leave when someone called her, ‘Are you going to that Rahul?’

Madhura looked back and smiled, ‘Maybe. For now I am going away from you.’

And just like that, she flew, not weightless, but soaring.

True Cringe

 When I wake up in the morning and the sunlight first hits my shut eyes, the first thing I want to open my eyes are to my phone screen. After checking if something earth shattering has happened over the night on social media I scourge for news on Google. Every now and then something interesting or outrageous catches my eye. Today was not a disappointing day either. 

After India’s recent win in the Olympics, everyone is a sports guru in this country. Which is a great thing for sports and sportsmen all around, if it was limited only to sports. Our media has gone bonkers - digging up histories of all medal winners, their humble beginnings and love life are the top of mind these days. So it was sort of obvious that our gold winner Neeraj Chopra who is also called “easy on the eyes” (insert eye roll) would not be spared. But a recent post of Red FM really baffled me. 

There are a bunch of RJ’s singing “Ude jab jab Zulfe teri” to a visibly uncomfortable Neeraj Chopra on Zoom call. Thank God he was not in the studio. I shudder at the thought of what the gyrating ladies would do if they met him in person. So we have a world class sportsperson, who won an Olympic gold for the country and we call him on a show and “tease” him? The video ends with the RJ saying “zyada cheda to nahi humne?” What if a couple of male RJ’s had done this with PV Sindhu? Umm, no comments. Rant over.

Annoying WhatsApp Forwards

 We are all part of some or the other WhatsApp group out of the sake of social courtesy. Generally the silly jokes shared or totally sexist and overall wrong remarks being made are ignored by me. But as the volatile situation in Afghanistan is unfurling a whole new arena of horrors await us very close home. 

I generally do not write about politics, or opinions that people express in these groups - these could be memes, jokes, videos or even news (fake news). If grown up people have decided to feel in a certain way they will. You can take a certain line of argument, but that is about all. But I am going to break this rule today. I am appalled at the way that people have reacted to the crisis a nation is facing. It’s closer home than we realise. 

Forget the political bigots and the uneducated. When I see absolutely/apparently educated and accomplished citizens be insensitive it boils my blood. Over the last two days, I saw so many posts all over social media which parade as jokes but are downright disgusting. They are to the tune of “they had it coming” right to being insensitive at a whole new level. People who speak out asking for solidarity of the world (read celebs) are trolled as to why they were quiet on other issues. how does it matter if they were quiet on another issue. Right now - this is the burning issue, do you have anything meaningful to contribute? If not, kindly shut up. 

If you feel forwarding jokes about cheaply available real estate in Kabul is witty, I really can’t even begin to list the number of things wrong about it. Forget the Islamophobia latent in it, this is a slap on the face of humanity. There are people dying, families being torn apart, I cannot bring myself to believe I actually saw a video of people falling from the sky. What kind of apocalyptic helplessness must he have felt, that he chose to tie himself to an aircraft rather than stay on the ground? Yet, we sitting in our comfortable homes, watching our plush TV sets can’t spare an ounce of humanity, we senselessly forward sick jokes. Jokes which come at the expense of dead children and a very very scared country. And all this from us, Indians who know what the pain of being uprooted is. Some of us have families which know how moving everything you called your own overnight feels like - are we dead inside?

Have some shame. If you do not have an opinion, keep quiet. If you do not know what to do, don’t do anything. Don’t spew hate. 

Jeans

 I cannot recall the last time I wore jeans for more than two hours, and that is kind of the top limit. The only way I wear jeans nowadays is to cover the shorts which I sleep in and walk out of the doors to fetch something like groceries. 

A baggy T-shirt and shorts or pajamas are my second skin now - I have made Jockey or nothing a reality. I mean I live in my house, I work in my bed (this is for dramatic interlude only, of course I sit at a table, I don’t want to get spondylitis) - why o why should I dress up? Now when someone thinks wearing jeans is dressing up that’s another problem, but we’ll tackle that some other day. My honest opinion is that the skinny jeans is dead. Why would you stuff yourself into those oh-so-tight denims when you have it’s more aesthetic and super body-friendly sister -read yoga pants - available?

So my 8-10 year old jeans which are exactly the Mom jeans/Girlfriend jeans which are in vogue now could have been really the rage now, but I say chuck it. I’m good with my pajamas or shorts. And the dresses, I can’t have enough of the dresses. This staying at home has definitely developed a condition in me where I cannot stand super skinny fabric (read jeans) on my legs any more. So, bye bye jeans, maybe we’ll meet again some time.

Shershaah

What is an Independence Day if you don’t watch one patriotic movie? Now I have grown up watching Roja, Gandhi, Gadar- Ek Prem katha, LOC, Border et al. Except for Gandhi all are Bollywood products and hence have their fair share of jingoism, songs, inspiring speeches, heroic feats and not to forget some kind of a prem katha. So when I started watching Shershaah, I had similar expectation if not more. After all it was coming from the production house known for it’s hyperbole. Karan Johar cannot make realistic films, that’s what I started out with. 

Happy to say I was proved wrong on many accounts. The writers have not taken much liberty in trying to make the story of this hero into something larger than life. The dialogs are realistic, the merging of the true heroes and their casting at the end is a very nice and professional touch - almost gave a feel of global cinema. also, the casting was really awesome, everyone stood out in the roles they played. Really happy to  see Bollywood come of age, trying to keep up with the standards of OTT production qualities. 

NB: This is not a film review, this is what I expected and what I found.

Navarasa

Since we are confined just to our home, we watch a lot of TV. Recently came across this Tamil Netflix original Navarasa. I have not completed watching it yet, but the first few. I am watching something in a regional language after a really long time honestly, so following the language only by the subtitles took a little more effort from me than the mindless sitcom watching I generally indulge in. Following subtitles while feeding a child is even more difficult, but I accomplished it, so yay me. Spoilers ahead.

Sometimes you watch some things in cinema and you laugh at it. The episode, or volume as they call it, on “Hasya” (laughter) was just that. A very cute little story involving a dog which falls into a shit hole, and then the shit hits the fan, literally. Then I was ambling through the rest of the episodes. The episode on wonder, was a brave attempt at sci if, but mostly was me reconciling with the fact that Arvind Swamy has become old AF. Then I found myself applauding the fact that they first pick up lines from Nolan unabashedly and then actually talk about how Nolanesque the idea is, I mean, the gall!

But what really hit home, and perhaps I can’t go on watching now is the episode on “Shanthih” (Peace), where the episode ends with a question mark at the end of the word. A man goes over beyond enemy lines in a war zone to rescue a puppy but gets killed. I mean, as if the premise was not gut wrenching enough, they had to keep a baby, a puppy, a dead brother story line and a guy who believed true compassion exists in every human - made the audience hope for a moment there and BAM! I knew all along it was coming, but pretty cruel, that ending. 

So I made a humdrum about so many chores to complete because that’s how I channel my frustration and went to sleep. I don’t think I can watch the rest. Though I hear the next one on anger is great. Let’s see, may be I will watch it today (but I have to sneak some time away from the kid).