Tuesday, January 30, 2007

And we all fall down

And I too fall victim to the mediocrity that the media is. They say you can run, but you can’t hide – it certainly be true with this post.

Of course, Ms Shetty was being paid a happy amount for this 4 weeks of ostensible imprisonment, nonetheless the entire nation’s heart went out her. The generous souls that we are.

Shilpa Poppadom! Personally I think it’s rather funny. What would you expect out of low IQ-ed, reality show scavenger for the tiniest bit of prominence? On a show that thrives on controversies? Nothing more and nothing less. Jade Goody delivered. The ratings flew through the roof. Endemol’s mission achieved.

Our indignance on racism? Aw please. We Indians are one of the most racist people in the world. It’s out there, disguised sometimes, blatant on other occasions – but we are and more so when we’re on our own turf. That gives us power. Or perhaps an opportunity to do unto others what was done to us for 200 years?

I’ve not been given a house on rent in Chennai because:
• I’m a girl.
• I’m single (Jesus Christ, a slut?)
• I’m not a Brahmin (me – scum of the scum left behind by an earthworm)

Yes, doors have been shut on my face and I’ve had tears in my eyes wondering if I should just pack my bags and run into the welcoming arms of my parents back in Bombay? Parents – ah yes – they’d like for me to get married. At this age – they’re willing to take any boy I bring home. Christian boy? Ummm, yeah if you insist. A Muslim boy – you must be out of your mind?!!

In restaurants, service suddenly improves when I’m accompanied by Caucasion looking friends. I’ve been told not to walk alone at night on Colaba Causeway because of the number of ‘blacks’ who hang around there.

Don’t even get me started on all those ads with scientific research backing the fact that success will come to those with fair skin and it’s only 6 weeks away. So Hurry before opportunity knocks on someone else’s epidermis.

She lives in a slum. How dare they! But Shipa’s neighbours actually agree to that statement. The condition of the roads outside her colony in Versova, Bombay is so awful, it is almost like living in the slums. “What is wrong if Jade Goody said that it looks like Shilpa hails from the slums? It’s true. We all hail from the slums. I cannot believe that I paid a bomb to stay in this so-called posh locality of Mumbai called Versova,” says Anu Mishra whose house is in Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel Nagar, which is considered a prime location in the western suburbs. On an average, flats in Versova command up to Rs 5,000 per square foot.
“But each time I step out of my building, it feels like I am staying in the slums.”

My favourite part is Ms Shetty’s reaction upon hearing the won the contest (is it what they are calling it?) - "Chicken curry rules! Thank you so much" Shilpa yelled as she was led out of the house by Davina. "I just want to thank the people of Great Britain for giving me the opportunity of making my country proud," Shilpa said.

Back up the bus here. Making my country proud? Right, now did she win a gold medal at the Olympics, save someone’s life, or closer to her field of work as it were, commended for some skilled piece of acting? Nothing so trivial, she won a few hundred thousand pounds, probably non-taxable. Now that certainly does make this poised India proud.

Birth of a new phrase: Doing a Shilpa ShettyTaking up a left over job with not many takers out of desperation or well, lack of lucrative livelihood – and accidentally becoming famous (and successful) because of someone else’s stupidity and a whole lot media sympathy.

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Saturday, January 27, 2007

The one thing you hate about love

After the first kiss when you wake up,
You swear you’ll never break up again.

A dulcet flavour that promises to be a salve for all fatigue that was, and will be. You nestle happily, eyes closed loving it all, as it is. In all its imperfections, you know you’ll swim always.

Wholesome and pure?

The east wind blows in and whispers the Zen of old saying ‘ just when you think you’ve got it, its gone’.

snuggling up against his warm body under the quilt

and the lazy Sunday brunch of cornflakes and sliced apples

or those fingers pulling you to him so he can smell your hair

or those 3 hours you took to choose his birthday gift

and his kiss

and….his kiss

the number on the speed dial

random memories, yearning of bruised bodies…you wish them away. Ah and brilliant. The powers that be won’t let me play my music.

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