Randomly rambling ahead...

O.k. I haven’t said this in a long time…but Gene Kelly is the original cat’s pajamas (although I have absolutely no clue why a cat would need pajamas, let alone boots). Don’t believe me? Watch him do the newspaper routine in ‘Summer stock’ and don’t you dare blink. You just might miss something. Watch any of his movies actually. He’s so incredibly fluid, agile and graceful…and he’s still ‘all man’. No effeminate vibes to make you cringe and ask “Why, God…why?”. Now, how many men you know can do that? Seriously? The swoon-bit is of course his impish, romantic, mobile face…hmmm…What a dreamboat. The kinds that make you sway from side to side with a loony look on your face.

I’ve come to the conclusion that they don’t make men the way they used to. Probably has something to do with the fact that women have morphed into part-time men. Which leads me to another conclusion – men, as a species may soon become extinct. I mean, seriously…I change the light bulb, I fix the pipes, I handle my investments (a tad warily). Heck! I even open jam jars. And I know tons of women who do the same. And I also know we are an increasing tribe. 

So, what exactly would be the role of man in let’s say, the year 2080? Would we be walking on the debris of egos of men? Or would women have completely taken over the planet, considering they have superior manipulation powers and an overdose of emotional strength? With women growing more self-reliant, androgynous and independent these days, I wonder… 

O.k. this random rambling is going nowhere. I, for one despite my fondness and undying loyalty to my species, would still like to have men around (the more evolved ones, that is). I donno…life would probably be quite boring without them around. And it’s no fun blaming all your problems on a woman. 

But, I think the reason why I would like men to be around (and I’m not talking about the more obvious reasons!) all the more would be because they tend to bring women closer. Let’s face it. We have an invisible and strong bond because of men. Our easy camaraderie stems from realizing that quality female company can soothe any heartache. And more often than not, it’s a man causing it.

Conclusion to the conclusions? For all our claims, we still need men around. And if they look and dance like Gene Kelly, bring them on. Preferably to my doorstep.

Both sides now

I won't write a thing today. I won't even mouth a word (I know, I know, that's 2 sentences already). I will just copy-paste an all-time favourite, which a very dear and lifelong friend said was all 'me'. 

My dearest friend, this is in fond remembrance of those endless days of youth. With you.

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Rows and flows of angel hair

And ice cream castles in the air

And feather canyons everywhere

I've looked at clouds that way

 

But now they only block the sun

They rain and snow on everyone

So many things I would have done

But clouds got in my way

I've looked at clouds from both sides now 

From up and down, and still somehow

It's cloud illusions I recall

I really don't know clouds at all

Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels

The dizzy dancing way you feel

As every fairy tale comes real

I've looked at love that way

But now it's just another show

You leave 'em laughing when you go

And if you care, don't let them know

Don't give yourself away

 

I've looked at love from both sides now

From give and take, and still somehow

It's love's illusions I recall

I really don't know love at all

 

Tears and fears and feeling proud

To say "I love you" right out loud

Dreams and schemes and circus crowds

I've looked at life that way

 

But now old friends are acting strange

They shake their heads, they say I've changed

Well something's lost, but something's gained

In living every day

 

I've looked at life from both sides now

From win and lose and still somehow

It's life's illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all

I've looked at life from both sides now

From up and down, and still somehow

It's life's illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all...

Rev. Spooner, my apologies

"So, what can I do you for?"

Nope...not a spoonerism, not even an unintentional typing error. At least not on my part. This was actually a sentence used at a very serious, prim and 'propah' board meeting. 

And guess who laughed??? 

30 pairs of disapproving eyes of all colours turned in a matter of seconds towards the source of laughter. I tried (a little unsuccessfully) to look back at the perpetrator and glare, only to stare at the glass door. 

A quick apology later, I was wishing the prophecies of doomsday were proved right at least this time. Of course, no such luck...just ended up cursing Nostradamus for misleading me. again.

C'mon people!! Where's your sense of humour? What's with these guys anyway? They look like they swallowed a septic tank...so poker faced! O.K. fine...i give in. The next pasty Korean who says 'boooss" instead of 'booth' doesn't even get a chuckle outa me. 

So there!

From the frying pan...

Yawwwwn. First day at my new agency and I'm bored to death. This place is so  claustrophobically professional, it’s weird! For the 1^st time in my life, after 6 years in the business, I have had a 3-hour ‘orientation’ with  133-pg. PPT’s thrown in for a major snooze fest. Seriously, who does these things in an ‘ad agency’??!!?? It’s unheard of and so pseudo! Who gives a rat’s ass for your KISS strategy? (which  if you are curious, is the ‘Key to Impact Sales Spots’. Why, oh why, does a writer need to know that fudge?? Although I admit the word shook me awake and I thought ‘now, we are getting somewhere!’ I should have known…)

Seems like I’ve signed up for the military, with a skewed helmet and without my camouflage. Serves me right for choosing a multi-trillion dollar conglomerate over a fun, mid-sized thought shop. 

Oh well…the decision was purely for the moolah and my plans to retire early. Or alternatively, to afford a toy-boy in my senile yet sensible years :) 

I miss my ol’ team though – a bunch of whackos, my partners-in-crime. We always dreamed up schemes to raise hell and I miss that – that whole ‘agency’ feeling of laughing as you work, fighting as you work, scheming as you work. The guys call me every single minute to give me updates and nostalgia bites me in the rear.  

Hmm…maybe it’s the first-day blues, but you can get a feel of a place from day one. I’ve always had a feeling of the ‘feel’. The ‘feel’ this time is of a laughter-less, jaded, hostile, pressure-cooker environment. And I don’t hear music.

 Sob. So this is fire.  

In the contingency of bekaari, I'm feeling poetic...so here goes.


A million stars skip across the water,
Glazing it with a silver hue.

Every night, I dip myself in this silver
And awake, to find me soaked in gold.

Back to the past

Finally! An impending and long-pending trip to Egypt materializes out of the sand. Plans, re-plans and re-re-plans later, we booked tickets. And that’s just about it. Now it remains to be seen whether we’ll actually make it. So often, our plans have come crashing down…much like the nose of Giza's sphinx.

Sigh! So many plans to travel and so little time. Between work and work and then some more work, there’s not much that can be done. But, hold it…I do have a list. And it's long.

I'll roll of just a few to keep you off a doze-a-thon. Some of my must-see’s and must-go’s include all the historical sites in India, Machu Picchu and the ruins of Petra, besides the valley of the kings. Being a complete sucker for history, I so often see myself brushing away piled on years to get a glimpse of the past. Watching the people of the Indus Valley lead their organized, urban lives thousands of years before urbanization. Or stumbling upon Tutankhamen’s tomb and dying of his curse, clutching a scepter, crying wildly. Oh well… :)

I envied Agatha Chistie’s life as the wife of archeologist Max Mallowan (of course, the lousy lout cheated on her…but that’s another story). Imagine what adventures her already fertile mind would have spun, while coming face-to-face with remains of the past.

The impact is best summed up by Christie herself while watching the city of Ur come alive –
“The lure of the past came up to grab me. To see a dagger slowly appearing, with its gold glint through the sand, was romantic”

I couldn’t agree more.

Romance aside, there’s something of the past that’s searching and magnetic. It’s like this shadowy creature waiting to engulf you and take you away…into a world frozen in time. Waiting, watching…seeing if you ready.

And God knows I am :)

An ode to a Mockingbird

I'm reading 'To kill a Mockingbird' all over again...because years have let the little bits trickle out of my memory. I read it when I was 12 and felt closer to Scout than Jem, despite the latter being my age. Scout’s eyes always remain adult-cataract free, transparent, seeing and perceiving as is…and not what should be. Believing in good, its all-encompassing quality and its ultimate triumph, however long the wait.

On another tangent, it also gets me thinking each time…we, as Indians were victims of racial prejudice for years, but are we above it ourselves? I have so often heard the term ‘kaala’ (or ‘kariya’ down south) for an African, or even a dark-skinned Indian. I have a very dear friend who tells me that in her childhood, some parents didn’t allow their children to play with her because she was dark-skinned. The logic being that touching a dark-skinned person would make you one too!! (if you are lucky, you buggers…). We place ourselves a notch higher when we label somebody an ‘untouchable’, and although the bias seems to not exist on the surface, it still has its noxious seeds waiting to sprout somewhere. Trust me on that one.

Even a show of tolerance or brotherhood can’t hide a festering hideout of bias and intolerance…towards anyone who’s not as pretty, as smart, as successful. For me, racial bias is not just towards a particular nation’s people. It extends towards particular labeled ‘races’ as well – what we term the ‘losers’, the ‘poor’, the ‘disabled’….all those we wouldn’t associate with or touch with a barge pole.

How come we never have patience for anything less perfect, when we aren’t perfect ourselves?

What does it mean to be human really? Is it just to constantly hanker towards perfection or embrace everybody’s else’s so-called imperfections and admit to our own? What if we had a society full of self-confessed imperfect, flawed people, telling all and sundry their fears, doubts, hopes?

I have a sneaking feeling that the day we voice out our shortcomings and gather them to our bosom, we would be free of all prejudices. We would then refrain from derogatory terms and look instead at the richness in a person. At chocolate, coffee coated skins, at a struggle inside a pupa, at survivals despite the condition.

Maybe…just maybe...then, there would be no more ‘race’…except for the human one.