Category Archives: Musings

What It Takes To Be A Journalist

02 Thursday Jun 2011

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1. Writing the truth.

2. Quoting facts as they are and not as you would want them to be.

3. Making an effort: to verify and qualify.

Three basic things that it appears the Hindustan Times’ reporters seem to lack. While a gross negligence towards facts seems to be a common ground among the harried young journalists of today, a happy desire to pick up words and fling them about into convenient sentences has become an art form that should go on their resume.

Take the case of young Aakriti Sawhney, art and lifestyle reporter with HT City, Delhi. Doing a breathtakingly insicive piece (with Damini Purkayastha) on how Subodh Gupta isn’t hacking it in Sotheby’s anymore, they appear to have collected some quotes, and possibly feeling the need to add some more spice to the piece, decided to pick a random tweet by me and play scrabble with the words, ending up with a sentence with an entirely different meaning from it’s original intent. Of course, they didn’t bother to check with me (why would they when they planned to play switcheroo with the words) nor did they qualify who I am or use my full name – would have taken too much effort to click search on Google. After such hard work, here is what it looks like:

For those unfamiliar with Twitter, @Daffynitions is a clever alternative dictionary that light-heartedly invents alternative definitions of common words. A recent one was: “Symbolism:  a great excuse for having a sink full of dirty dishes.” I found that funny. And is also reminded me – IRONICALLY – of an artist whom I respect, Subodh Gupta. Famous for his installations of pots and pans, it seems ironic in the context of the ‘Daffynition’. Hence my tweet: “Subodh Gupta’s pots and pans, anyone? “: Symbolism: a great excuse for having a sink full of dirty dishes.”

Ms. Sawhney and Ms. Purkayastha, thrilled with the discovery of such a potentially juicy misquote, decided to take this innocent tweet into their clever hands and came up with this concoction: “Even fans are no longer buying it [Subodh Gupta and other artists’ worth]. ‘SG’s pots and pans, anyone? A great excuse for having a sink full of dirty dishes,’ tweeted Sitanshi.”
See full article: http://www.hindustantimes.com/Subodh-s-sotheby-s-shock/Article1-704468.aspx

I am left speechless (or not) at journalism full of such integrity and honesty.

At the moment, I am waiting for them to remove the words associated with my name, a polite request to follow the first 3 points above, if possible.

Update: Hindustan Times has removed the incorrect quote and has also issued a corrigendum.

Baby levellers

22 Friday Apr 2011

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To save time, we chose, on the spur of the moment, to go to the local park nearby instead of our country club. By we, I mean hubby, baby and I. As we got out of our chauffeur-driven car, assembled our one-touch baby travel system in front of curious eyes and strolled into the park, I could see what a picture we made. Designer shades, sundress, chi-chi baby outfit…it felt incongruous among the many who strolled along people-watching by the sea. As I reached forward to wipe some baby drool, I looked up and met the eyes of a simple, sari-clad lower-middle-class lady, who was resting her feet on a nearby park bench. She had a baby tucked into the crook of her arm.

There would be many differences between the upbringing of that child and mine, largely material in nature – those of opportunities. And yet they looked peaceful. Flashback to a conversation with a few new mothers, who spoke in feverish agony about the sorry state of schools in the city – the horrendous situation of demand and supply, where their kids may not make it to the best schools, may have to do with second tier and even then wheedle their way in. How different is life for a person with means and one without? Both often need to snatch opportunities and push to get in – just to different places. One believes that the best is a basic right, the other hopes that somewhere along the way a better life may appear.

What is a better life? A bigger classroom, a fancy school bus, a posh car, smarter teachers? Life itself is a great teacher and sometimes, we forget the most basic of lessons. We are all born with the right to live. How we choose to live is a complex twist of fate, luck and opportunity. Motherhood can’t be that different across the board – every baby will poop, cry and laugh while learning to crawl. Possibly one will poop in the comfort of Pampers and soft linen and soundless air conditioning. But at the end of the day, each process remains the same. Their self-worth should be independent of the quality of their lives, rather should depend upon their desire to be someone.

Can the two be separated? Aren’t we constantly defining ourselves by our ability to attract wealth and power and the symbols of such derivates? I believe a society’s material image emerges from the “best” that we want to give our children. We believe that a fluffy eiderdown will make a better person or human being when maybe a hard bed is what is required. (I don’t mean that one should make a child suffer the rigours of life when there is no need to.) The fancy trappings are – if we admit it – for ourselves. To make ourselves feel better about being parents. In our desire to provide the best, we often create the worst. A society of weakening self-worth. All children need love, affection and food. The rest is – as the word states – immaterial.

iManage iNDIA

08 Friday Apr 2011

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Our democracy has given us the ability to make so many choices – a few decades ago, we chose to leave for better opportunities elsewhere, recently we choose to return because of plum prospects in India. But whenever we have to choose to be alert citizens, we choose the easy road – the road of oblivion, escapism and feigned ignorance. Even worse – something I am guilty of, too – cynicism and haplessness.

When an elderly man decides to fast, we tweet. When scams are exposed, we update our status in horror. When our status quo is breached we respond with anger, criticism even shock, but no solutions.

We, the urban intelligentsia, have found no way out, and have preferred to let the zoo animals that are our bureaucrats and politicians rule roost while we hatch eggs – shaking our intellectual manes over the evils at fine soirées.

We may #tweetforwickets in a strong show of national spirit, we may cry in emotional joy at national wins, but we make no move to change what’s wrong.

It’s true, the answers are often not with us, there needs to be a collective consciousness that decides to take no more sh*t. Everytime there is someone who inspires us, or something that appalls us, we make a stir, think about a rising, and then, in one collective motion, sit our asses right back into our plush la-z-boy recliners.

It’s unfortunate that we have the option to leave, or the money to ignore the crap that goes on in our backyard, or the cynicism to empty every full glass – because the moment we run out of our options, we may be fasting like good man Anna Hazare for our future, as our men steal every morsel from our homes.

Gandhi fasted for independence, its a shame that 60+ years hence, a man has to fast merely to get a bill noticed in parliament. Elle Woods would be charmed. Tsunamis may be hitting the Pacific, but it is the wasteland of Indian inaction that requires attention.

The Unromance of Realism

07 Thursday Apr 2011

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With sexting and instant messaging, relationships have become just that – instant and ephemeral. Books and films have emulated these real-life changes with often not-so-interesting results. Has the romance in art – and relationships – died?

What defines society today is words and connections. What separates this generation from the ones before is the power of the spoken word. We think that technology is what has changed us, made us the people that move faster, think faster and behave fast. While that may be true in some part, what has empowered technology has been content – online jargon for words. Thoughts, bubbles, discussions, emoticons, replies, retorts, criticism, feedback, conversations, investigations, observations, retweets, status updates…the list goes on.  This generation has increased communication by communicating less and with fewer words. It faces the task of dealing with information overload while constantly putting out more information. The oxymorons define the mindset of today – a generation that wants everything, wants everything super quick and instantly accessible and doesn’t really have the time or the patience to sift, read, ponder. That is where texts, BlackBerry messages, tweets and status updates are the de facto means of communication. It is rare for anyone to pick up the phone and have a good old-fashioned chat, in the generation that prefers to stick to a far more impersonal, but rapid form of communication. It has its own personal vocabulary: insistent abbreviations – often indecipherable to the uninitiated – and instant communication. You find people with heads bent, eyes darting and fingers moving rapidly in practiced synchronisation: rarely able to maintain eye-contact for more than a couple of minutes, rarely can a conversation run its natural old-fashioned course without interruption, as we move into an era of distracted and continuous communication and therefore, erratic and easily dismissed short-lived relationships.

Popular culture represents the dialogue and relationships of today: faster, more impatient and often meaningless. Younger filmmakers have updated their scripts to emulate real life. While underworld films picked up the nuances of the underbelly through actions and dialogue, romance in the arts has been for the longest time linked to a larger-than-life drama. Case in point: the cinema of Karan Johar or Sooraj Barjaytya. Where they update the clothes and the music, the dialogue often remains over-dramatised and pedantic. While some may argue that romance needs the dramatisation, a striking example to contest the argument is that of Saathiya – where the dialogue is rapid, off-the-street and yet, is a powerful story. There is a strong resonation with the viewer, an easy relatability, which carries the film from run-of-the-mill to sensitive and meaningful. Farhan Akhtar’s Dil Chahta Hai made the trend a popular one, taken up by film-makers like Kunal Kohli (Hum Tum) and Imtiaz Ali (Jab We Met and Love Aaj Kal).

It is the language of frankspeak  or straightspeak. Where once “You complete me” was the sigh-generating dictum, now, “I need a break” is easily said, without much angst, furor or thought. Quick answers, rapid and sometimes thoughtless decisions and a sense of bubbling impatience mark the dialogues that often don’t lead anywhere special. This is the nature of relationships of today and the conversations emulate them. Easily said, easy to bed and quick to leave – all takes place faster than a thought, and what is left are non-events. How does this make and fill the artistic and aesthetic space of a film? While Kohli-directed Hum Tum talks about a meandering relationship, When-Harry-Met-Sally-style, he pumps the story with events – which hold the weight of the relationship between the protagonists that appears to be going nowhere. In an attempt to emulate real life and their easy-come-easy-go relationships, Kohli’s recent production Break Ke Baad, directed by Danish Aslam, is a slick film that lacks a meaty story, full of ‘non-happenings’. Conversations, while witty and fresh, would make a better radio play than a long commercial movie. While this may be a comment on relationships today, the art demands a certain balance between real life and cinematic license – it demands that elements, moments and events become at the very least marginally larger than life, to create entertainment, to be watchable. Ali’s Love Aaj Kal nearly crossed the line to become over-ripe with conversations, in the same quest to describe modern-day relationships. Where LAK teetered dangerously, Jab We Met remained fresh in its cinematic experience, particularly through the crispness of dialogue and emotion.

Deepika Padukone’s character, Aaliya, in Break Ke Baad is not lovable in the traditional sense – much like Sonam Kapoor’s Aisha, she is unintentionally selfish and possibly doesn’t deserve the good guy. The industry buzz has it that Zoya Akhtar’s debut film Luck By Chance missed it’s calling because the protagonist, Vikram, was not a nice guy. We don’t feel empathy for the characters and don’t wish them to reach a happy ending. And that is dangerous ground for a film to enter in the romance genre. And it is also rather disturbing seeing that these characters have been picked from real life. Is it true, then, that we prefer the traditional romantic notion of characters that may be slightly misguided, but are nice? Even if that is not real life? So as dialogues get updated, people shouldn’t?

Two recent books speak a local language, but in entirely different ways. Anuja Chauhan’s Battle For Bittora speaks real politik – the language of local and honest-to-good (sense the irony) politics, seen through the eyes of a girl of this generation. There is amusement, cynicism and wonder. While the romance remains honest to chick lit, and the dialogues are basic, matter-of-fact and emulating real life, it is the clever writing and story that lifts this novel from being mundane to a page-turner. Where Chauhan’s effortless writing excites, first-time writer, Rhea Saran’s Girl Plus One is trying too hard, as are her heroines, to become a desi Sex and the City. Saran is not wrong in suggesting, rather obviously, the fact that Indian girls today are openly emulating Manhattan’s popular TV series; however, Saran misses Candace Bushnell’s witticisms that make all the difference between real life and drama. Would a real-life Carrie really talk in continuous innuendoes? No. She simply finds a correlation between her column and her life.

However art is updated to make it believable and real, it is obvious that the artistic license must be used to lift the dullness of real life to a heightened sense of real-life drama. In creating a believable sense of inclusion in a person’s daily, often mundane life, while bringing art into our homes, drawing rooms and bedrooms, we need to maintain a certain distance that allows us to appreciate the nuances of every character, story and relationship. These elements need to interesting and memorable, and often, real life is not. That doesn’t mean we need to regress and run around trees dancing amid roses, but it does mean that we need to assess the dramatic intent of the medium: does the film justify being larger-than-life? Does the book deserve to be printed and propped up on the ‘New Arrivals’ bookshelf rather than be a basic online blog? All in all, while pointing out the casual and matter-of-fact manner of everyday relationships, are we missing the romance in the written word and the spoken dialogue? And are we losing the romance in relationships?

And that leads me to question – do we want the old-fashioned nature of romance, or does that not matter to us anymore? Does a quick sext or a couriered designer bag charm us more than an old-fashioned hand-written note with a love song? Are we so accustomed to sentimentalising love and romance that we are unable to accept it in its matter-of-fact form anymore? If the written word stands for the way we think, then are we changing so dramatically that we question and often thwart sentimentality in its old-fashioned sense? Do we love, or do we ‘like’? Or are we confused because it is ‘too complicated’?

Lack of Will

18 Friday Mar 2011

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Possibly one of the more unacceptable human failings is a lack of will power. To deal with what life has to offer, one needs a strong will — and when I encounter a weak mind, I am filled with a deep sense of regret, frustration and even annoyance at a life, moment and time wasted.

The very fact that your emotions, desires and wants – even habits — overpower your better sense and mind points to a flagging spirit and not much steadiness in the soul.

What prevents us from fighting the battle to better ourselves, to control ourselves? Possibly nothing more than our own self. I believe we often lack the courage, conviction and self-belief to make us who we can be and remain stranded as who we are – floating aimlessly and limply along a mire of weakening self-worth.

We invent reasons for being such, turn a deaf ear to those who try to help us, and basically put up a wall against change. Because it means giving up whom we have got accustomed to being. We believe that staying so will give us greater joy than changing. That change implies giving pleasurable things up. What we fail to realize is that it means being proud of whom we can be — replacing the weak, irascible spirit with an infinitely positive one.

Those who wish not to – or can’t – change, are ones who appear to be listening, but never do, who have a ‘but…’ ready at every instance, whose glass is always half empty, coz they can’t stop drinking from it.

Five Times Archer

18 Friday Mar 2011

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So, one of my favourite mainstream fiction writers, Jeffrey Archer (thank god he continues to live and write prolifically) is out with part one (of five parts) of what he described last year to me as the ‘Clifton Chronicles’. Is it different from his other books, particularly the sagas he is so famous for? NO. In fact, it revisits the tenets that make Archers sagas what they are: classic and true to their eternal premise that there exist connections between individuals.

1. These would most likely be men separated at birth, sharing parents, having some sort of birth mix-up – you get the point. These individuals grow up in separate conditions – mostly a strong economical divide – the fortunes of one are juxtaposed against the nurture-disadavantages of the other. While one leads a blessed life, the other has to struggle for everything.

2. Of course, the author gently nudges the reader into empathy for the more disadvantaged person – he remains Archer’s eternal hero, but, most importantly, the one with the advantage is also dealt with lovingly. He is generally a nice guy – you are unable to fault him for the fortunes of birth, and he often, wittingly or unwittingly, comes to the aid of his potential future nemesis.

3. They lead parallel lives, often mirroring actions in their own ways, both destined for success and chalking their path as they deem fit until they meet towards a dramatic finale. Archer doesn’t comment on right or wrong, rather he believes that success is paramount, along with being a good human being. His characters often set their own rules, are not always moral, but they are unable to alienate the audience in these minor misdemeanours because they remain good at heart. (Aside: Is this what Archer tries to prove about himself?)

4. Archer appears to have a strong belief in destiny – so much so that he could be Indian in his ideology. (Think astrology that believes that every individual has a path charted out, and when individuals’ paths cross, there is a greater meaning behind it.) Each of his characters is simply living out their destiny to the fullest – and incidents unfold along the way, making their lives interesting, because of the people they are. Other characters that come in to help/ aid/ or desist are mere catalysts in the greater purpose these individuals are meant to serve.

5. Archer’s hero is the quintessential hero that is living to fulfil his destiny through a greatness that lies dormant within him, that needs to be tapped, explored and unleashed. His is not the anti-hero of contemporary times; and the fact that we still like and want more of his hero, proves that we believe in the bigger hero over the popularised anti-hero.

6. His contemporary from the same country, Barbara Taylor Bradford was a master storyteller of sagas – think the one starting with Woman of Substance. The power of her story remains eternal, unfortunately, she no longer writes (I am quite certain a ghost writer writers under her name – churning out weak, insipid, badly written romance novels). I can only hope Archer doesn’t go the same route. While his story-telling skills remain as powerful, I do feel that his language has been toned down and made simpler than his older sagas. I wonder why?

7. The circumstances of his novels’ mise-en-scene remain the same: juxtaposed against the World Wars, dealing with England and no further than America or Australia, possibly areas that Archer knows well and understands best. This time around though, he takes his sagas into contemporary time: the Clifton Chronicles will span decades and enter the contemporary age – this is what will set it apart and I can’t wait to see how he deals with placing characters in a far newer age and era of technology, quite out of his usual comfort zone.

8. Even though Archer’s Clifton Chronicles, starting with Only Time Will Tell, remains Archeresque to the point where they offer nothing new, except a recycled version of his previous sagas, his stories are still knowingly and willingly consumed with as much interest because these sagas work as strong tales. The foundation that every Archer saga shares remains eternal and eminently readable. I am surprised that no movies have been made on any of his sagas. I only wish his publishers and he would not tantalise the readers with breaking the story into five parts and releasing them so far apart from each other – with no clue when the next installment is even due.

The Mad Maid Brigade

12 Saturday Mar 2011

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The moment the world discovered I was expecting, the most common and oft-asked question was, “Have you got help? Have you found a maid?” Apparently, maid-less in Mumbai equals having no life.

It’s trite that on my sabbatical I would be reduced to writing about baby maids, but there is a point to the rant. Pritish Nandy’s recent column on the greed of people (A Nation of Banias) echoes what I have been thinking for the past few weeks. There is something strange happening to the world of working people – and that defines our new middle class. The best comparison is to the maid market.

At a recent evening tete a tete, a friend advised me about a maid, Suvidha, affectionately known as Su, who is magical with babies, but just needs to be given a sense of importance. “Without you, I am nothing – you are my whole and soul, you make my world go around….” These words must be in effect repeated often to the said maid, to ensure that she sticks around. Or there’s Deepali, who came from a Calcutta bureau to take care of Baby, began fighting with the entire family after a fight she had with someone one the phone (love gone bad?), slammed doors around the sleeping baby, banged Baby’s legs, shook her head when holding her, and made her wail no end. We happily bought her return ticket and couldn’t wait to see her go. Another day maid, Sushma, lied about her hours of work on the very first day – because she got a call for another night job. So, she planned to abscond early, go home take care of her kids and then run a full night duty elsewhere. So when would she sleep? Would she manage a baby on no rest? Valentina, came with references and a well-stamped passport. She had just flown down from Switzerland the night before, and after touring much of Schengen world, was looking for a job that would take her to greener pastures yonder. Another claimed to be a governess, she wouldn’t clean, she would play with the baby. So was the mother supposed to clean while the governess played? Another one called Deepa came with emotional baggage from a bad childhood and child marriage (scary stuff), but touted working at ‘big houses’, name dropped and spoke about how she would work where there were at least 3 maids handling one baby. The mother would watch or party. Not used to being responsible, she brought with her a boisterous temperament, mood swings and a dollop of immaturity an carelessness. Another young girl hopped onto a train from Calcutta, begging and pleading for a job (she had no experience) because she needed the money. And then there was Manu, dear Calcutta Manu, who spoke about perfumes, matching nail polish, gold jewellery, mobile phones and air tickets.

And all of them have one thing in common – they are interviewing you. You may well please yourself thinking you are maid shopping or looking for the right fit, but there really isn’t much in your hands – they are house-hunting (size does matter), and will take the call depending upon the wealth, material comforts and perks offered by the house. Not only have their salaries tripled, as a prerequisite, they want to be provided with additional help for themselves – watch them boss over the rest of the household-, a mobile phone, jewellery, perfume, saris, the same quality soaps and such as used by the mother, air tickets to be ferried back and forth from their home as and when they please, frequent and fancy trips (preferably abroad, but if in India then exotic places only). And only the best must be used for Baby – they even judge you on the brands of products and appliances you use. “The one from ‘foreign’ is the best didi. Don’t use ‘local’ – ask someone to bring it for you.” If you can’t provide any of the above, you are on probation. They also want to know how many people in your house, what age group, what kind of child (temperament and such) and how often the child wakes at night. As  27-year-old Deepa openly said, “I am looking to buy a house in Calcutta. I give myself five years in Mumbai – and am looking around for the perfect house to spend those five years in, before I make my move back.” She also (two days into work) yells at the household help (who’ve been around decades) to keep the noise down, buy a pressure cooker that makes no noise, and in effect ensure that she gets ‘rest’ since she’s been so baby-busy. Surprising, when she sleeps more than the mother.

At the end of the day, you need to market your house, family and child to them, to lure them into staying; and thereafter begins the rat race to keep them happy. If you suggest a method to the madness of keeping your baby clean, happy and peaceful, they take objection and feel insulted. Of course they know better what is best for your baby. Even if they have just arrived the previous day. If you think otherwise, and dare to show it, they walk.

I’m told, maids have certain predefined lines: if they have scoped the scene and don’t wish to work there, they invent an excuse of a cold (so they can’t be around Baby) and beg off time to start. They then disappear. Or, if they’ve worked with you, they speak about their child’s wedding so that they can get you to gift them stuff like gold or money.

Also, they are trying to one-up the mother. They think it is a job well done if the baby responds to them rather than the mother. Deepa proudly told me, “The baby would eat from my hand only. If the mother fed her, she would turn away and look for me. The mother begged me to stay, to not leave, for the sake of her baby; but I couldn’t handle her mother-in-law’s interference any more. It was a perfect place, otherwise. So I moved on. And yet, I love children – I’m very attached to all of them. I got so much love there.” See the irony there? From all the gossiping (read: bitching or showing off) about other houses these maids are wont to do (annoyingly in the middle of burping or putting Baby to sleep), you realize that there is a trend of women, who quit nursing, who want to get back to their own lives and who then become highly dependent on their hired help. It gives the help an unhealthy sense of importance, and the effect on the child is something for another blog post. But who’s to judge a parent’s choices?

One realizes that a woman resuming normal life after motherhood is as good as her hired help. Does that mean that we must join the race to keep the maid? At what stage do we succumb to the insanity that has become a part of the child-upbringing-world? As I shopped for maids (or so I thought) a friend remarked, getting someone to help you get a maid is worse than getting a friend to help you with a guy you’ve both fallen for. No one likes to share maid numbers, what if they need someone too? Demand exceeds supply and people tenaciously and jealously guard their maids (from poaching) and refuse to give out any information, lest they may need one in the future.

It has given rise to the Bureaus. Whether they are formalizing a system for the better or leading to a lot of issues, is yet to be seen. These are offices of great self-importance, they run a maid delivery system based on the insane demand and take commission on every placement. Some even ask for a non-refundable registration fee up front and then keep you on your toes, calling them for a maid – a few times a day, everyday. There are contracts, they interview you, they check YOUR credentials…there are even scams galore, eating into the desperation of harassed new parents. And what do you know about the women who are given access to your home and child? Who knows where they have been, what they are carrying, what issues they are harbouring? Suvarna, my local masseuse maid points it out – “You need someone you can trust, bhabhi. We know the local maids, who knows about these bureau ones? You know what the world is like, nowadays….”

A few days of the runaround, and I gave up. I believe there be a greater joy and more peace in raising your child yourself, rather than having the stress of finding the right help. So what if it leaves you knee-deep in diapers and burp cloths? Parenting is all about learning the ropes the hard way. That’s how nature intended it. Maybe that’s the way it’s meant to be. And besides, I hear it’s uber cool to be managing Baby yourself, having a maid take care of Baby is so not nuclear-21st-century-gobalista.