Riding Up A Storm: Polo Players of Manipur

23 Saturday Mar 2019

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Features & Trends, Interviews: Lifestyle, Publication: Elle, Social Chronicles, Sustainability

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Daughters of the Polo God, Elle India, Manipur, Manipuri Pony, Polo, Roopa Barua, Somi Roy, Women's Polo

Published: Elle Magazine, March 2019
Photographs: Ashish Shah

Manipur’s growing polo sisterhood has put the birthplace of the sport back on the global map—and may well revive the endangered local pony too….

On a hill around Heingang village, on the outskirts of Imphal, there is a pony shrine to Lord Marjing, the god of polo, where the Meitei (the majority ethnic group of Manipur) come to worship, and where the local polo players go to light candles before a game. There is mystical energy at the shrine as prayers are offered to Sanamahi, the patron god of every Meitei household, who created the Samadon Ayangba—a fast and fierce pony with wings.

The legendary Manipuri Pony is symbolic of a culture that has struggled in many ways to ride forward. L Somi Roy, the grandson of Manipur’s former monarch Maharaja Churachandra, left Manipur for USA in the ’80s and on his return two decades later, found the pony listlessly ambling the streets of Imphal feeding on plastic. Despite its mythological and historical importance, the semi-feral animal’s grazing areas were lost due to negligent urbanisation. Today, the Manipuri Pony is an endangered species with an estimated population of fewer than 500.

Roy, who is a conservationist and a custodian of culture, realised that the only way to keep the pony alive would be to help build up Sagol Kangjei (Manipuri polo) by bringing international attention to it. Manipur is considered the birthplace of modern polo—the British later exported the sport to the rest of the world. Mapal Kangjeibung polo ground, situated in the heart of Imphal and surrounded by urban buildings, is one of the oldest extant grounds in the world. It dates to the early 17th century, with references that go back to the first century AD during the reign of King Kangba.

As polo has been male-dominated in Manipur, female players were seriously lagging in the sport due to lack of opportunity and direction. That changed with Roy’s initiatives. Drawing upon his contacts at the United States Polo Association (USPA) in 2013, Roy, along with his US partner Ed Armstrong, began inviting women’s polo teams from abroad to hold a local tournament in Imphal.

And thus began the Manipur Statehood Day Women’s Polo Tournament, India’s only international women’s polo tournament, in 2016, in partnership with Roy’s Polo Yatra (an enterprise for women’s polo in India), the USPA, and Manipur Tourism, with only one visiting team: USA. The annual tournament has grown exponentially since then. The recently-concluded season in January this year had four foreign teams—USA, Canada, Kenya and Argentina—along with the Indian Polo Association (IPA) team with the support of Manipur Tourism, Incredible India, and the Bombay Stock Exchange. It was produced by Polo Yatra and organised by the All Manipur Polo Association. In testimony to its growing global standing, Argentina put together a tournament called the Manipur Cup in 2018, where the winners of the 13 participating teams came to play in Manipur.

Daughters Of The Polo God (2018), an award-winning documentary film on the female polo players of Manipur, which had its India premiere on the opening night of the tournament, perfectly captures the spirit on the ground. Roopa Barua, the film’s director, says, “I had only heard stories of civil unrest, terrorists and army atrocities in Manipur. But when I went to Imphal for the tournament in 2016, I saw that women’s polo was a growing story—the symbiotic relationship between women’s polo and the endangered Manipuri Pony was a very unique concept.”

Roy points out, “Women have been at the forefront of change in Manipur—they are entirely fearless.” Three-fourths of the country’s female polo players come from the state. It has 26 polo clubs, many of which have women players (two of these clubs are even owned by women), with over 30 women players and five women’s teams in Imphal alone. Fifty-four-year-old Thoudam Thoinu Devi exemplifies the term “boss lady”: she owns the Chingkhei Humba Polo Club, which now has over 80 horses that belong to its members. Her niece, 23-year-old Thoudam Tanna, who was named Best Manipuri Player in this tournament, is as formidable on the field as her aunt is off it. “She was nobody in that world—less than 15 years old, she came in her old clothes—and yet she won first prize at the equestrian games,” says a proud Thoinu about her niece in Daughters….

The local polo players hail from humble backgrounds—in Manipur, polo isn’t linked to economic status and the players don’t necessarily own their horses. Khundongbam Habe, at 35, the oldest local player this season, sells vegetables to pay the bills. “Maintaining ponies is very difficult and expensive. The polo association contributes to their care, but there are hurdles, like the lack of grazing grounds and the decreasing number of ponies,” she says. An untrained pony could cost INR 50,000, while trained animals could range from anywhere between one lakh and three lakh rupees. And then there is the burden of gender inequality—the players describe how the men’s teams have many more facilities and are also sent for equestrian jumping and national games, while the women’s teams are not.

On January 17, at the opening ceremony of the polo tournament, 18 local and international artistes performed with a range of instruments including the Manipuri pena and the guitar in sweet synergy. It is symbolic of the camaraderie displayed by the local and international teams on and off the ground. Anna Winslow Palacios, from Team USA, who was in Manipur for the second time, was impressed with the improvement in the play of the local girls—they drew with Kenya and lost to Argentina by just two goals. At the insistence of Ricardo Mihanovich of the Federation Of International Polo and Ed Armstrong of Team USA, they received the first Most Improved Team award from Polo Yatra. Palacios says, “They are all so passionate and willing to learn—like sponges, absorbing all that we had to offer. On the field, they were right there with the top players.”

The Manipuri women players are self-trained—they don’t abide strictly by fixed international or Indian rules of polo. And the Manipuri Pony, unlike a thoroughbred, is no longer ideal for modern polo—it is small, even if it is swift and lithe. Delhi-based Monica Saxena, the captain of the IPA, says, “The horse is 80 per cent of the game. The challenge is that the Manipuri girls only learn and play on the local horses, but I see great potential in them. With proper coaching, they can beat any international team.”

Some of the foreign players take time off before the matches to teach the Manipuri players, often with the help of translators, as not all the local players speak English. And as recently as November 2018, The Tata Trust company, at Roy’s initiative, formed a centre in Imphal where 20 local players were inducted to undergo training. Mriganka Singh, from team IPA, says, “I have lived and played in Delhi, where there are very few women polo players and no tournaments like this that allow you to improve your game. Polo in Delhi is very competitive; my polo experience in Manipur with players of all ages, from 14- to 50-years-old—was unique and a reminder of the reason for my passion for the sport.”

Perhaps coming full circle the foot of the shrine to Lord Marjing is a 200-acre piece of land sanctioned for a pony preserve. “While saving the pony is an ongoing struggle, we have a policy in place, and it is declared an endangered breed,” says Roy. During the tournament, there was a pony preservation conference held at Manipur University, where the participation of players from the international teams further underscored the global concern for this breed’s conservation.

Meanwhile, fresh out of the tournament where their team gave their more-experienced opponents a run for their money, Tanna and 20-year-old Victoria Oinam and Neelu RK are on a high that their eventual loss hasn’t dampened. Says Tanna’s sister, Thoudam Sanajaobi, also a state polo player, as she sits out and cheers herself hoarse while her sister plays this season, “I dream of going to other places to play polo.” They turn to look at the foreign players, with wistfulness and the uncynical hope of youth, awaiting a time when they may celebrate the Manipuri Pony and its sporting tradition by riding beyond borders.

I, Me, Myself and No One Else

06 Friday Mar 2015

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Publication: Verve Magazine, Social Chronicles

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Published: Verve Magazine February 2015
Painting by Rahul Das

In the chaotic social babble, we may have lost the ability to hear our inner voice. Verve ruminates on what it means for women to be alone today

‘I think it’s very healthy to spend time alone. You need to know how to be alone and not be defined by another person.’ Famous words by Oscar Wilde. But do they stand true today? On the one hand, women are willing to be alone and not be defined by a man or a friend or a family. And yet, as a society we remain dependent on other people – the human race is driven by relationships.

In an issue devoted to exploring the ‘I’ in a relationship, do we sing soulfully about ‘me’ time, or is it a beacon call of a lonely heart? A happily married lady of nearly 60, asks, “Should I have, all these years, loved myself more than my husband?” And the regretful answer may have been ‘Yes’. As we celebrate ourselves, we are looking to find our identity and space, collect our thoughts and be who we want to be (or do what we would like to do), without interference, judgement or questioning.

In our race to please everyone, we may have begun forgetting what it is that we want. And driven by peer and social pressures, the very way in which we define ourselves has changed.

Women On Their Own
Some would believe that being alone is a gift of liberty, without having to depend on or account to anyone. For many others, it’s a lifestyle shift, a dramatic change in thinking, emotionally and physically. With the growth of meditation camps, single-person travel tours and no-companion-required activities, we foster a sense of metropolitan independence.

There are many women who do things on their own, in order to ‘find themselves’ or to meet new people. Does that make them social pariahs? With employers like Google – willing to foot the bill for their female employees to freeze their eggs, so that they are not pressured by nature to find a companion – we find the road for ‘aloneness’ made easier. The biological clock doesn’t need to tick in a foreboding manner any more; women can be free of the pressure to settle.

And yet it does not fall that we would like to be alone. Women have begun celebrating their personal time; but are women embracing an involved relationship with themselves? For instance, do women feel comfortable eating a meal by themselves, or watching a film in the cinema on their own? Perhaps the decision is linked to safety – we feel more secure being with someone, we feel protected.

Maybe we feel the need to establish to society that we are not alone. And in that lies the insecurity where we draw our self-worth from another being. The very fact that someone would choose to be with us makes us worthy. We are always seeking approval; we don’t have to deal with the ‘shame’ of being seen without another person.

Isolation Is Punishment
The primeval need to be a part of a community or have a companion – the reason why humans created societies – is so genetically deep rooted, that we are uncomfortable in isolation. After all, one of the rigorous imprisonment tools is solitary confinement. The inability to make conversation and share thoughts is considered a punishment. It is as if we are afraid of being alone with our own thoughts and feelings. What would we do without the people around us distracting us from ourselves? The claustrophobia of solitary confinement leads to the desperate need of togetherness.

Can Indians Do It?
As a society (and with the risk of generalising) Indians are more likely to be uncomfortable doing things like eating, going to a bar or watching a movie alone in their home city, unless they are travelling or living away from home. This draws from the fact that Indians believe in community life and an outing as a family or group. No one plans to step out alone – if they are alone, they stay home. Going out is intrinsically linked to socialising. They may find it easy enough to stay in on a Friday or Saturday night; while in the West, culturally among the single lot, it is considered uncool to be home alone on nights reserved for hanging out or partying. You angle for a date – as the Saturday-night culture portends that you ‘be there or be square.’ It is not unlikely for single women to be out at a bar abroad, or women willing to pick up a date just to go out, while that is not the norm in India. Locally, women – unless they have company – will most likely stay back rather than be seen alone outside, due to social taboos based the perceptions of how ‘good’ women should behave.

Are We Ever Really Alone?
Keeping aside social conventions, at one time, it might have been considered boring to hang out alone. Today, it has come to pass that we are really never alone when we have our smart phone with us. In a world full of gadgets that speak to us, engage us, challenge us and constantly supply us with information, we may find the communication of another person not required or even worse – not sufficient.

The physical distance between two people in conversation through social media provides security and anonymity to be yourself and push the limits more than you could have when meeting someone face-to-face. Will that change the next generation’s ability to ‘face’ people?

And yet, in an alternative study to technology creating social misfits, Australian researcher David Clark suggests, ‘People become less dependent on their families and need more specialised skills, which could lead to less interest in social support and more self-sufficiency. Over time, people are more individualistic, more extroverted, and have higher self-esteem.’

What Is Fulfilling?
We begin to compartmentalise our lives into time spent with people and time spent alone. Which is more valuable? A woman in her 30s, recently married (and potentially commitment-phobic), believes that it is possible to go an entire life, with a good job and international sojourns, without the need of a man. (Not counting casual sex and friends-with-benefits.)

But independent nights or weekends are a world apart from choosing to live and be alone. When you take a few nights off, you do so with the security that you have someone to come back to. That someone is a willing companion to the things you may want to explore and do. Without that security, are we lost and flailing or are we more aggressively ourselves?

We have yearned for a companion with whom we can be ourselves. But today, in a world of compromise, it may be easier to be yourself with yourself rather than change your personality to match someone else’s! Is a relationship with someone too much work?

The Fight Against Silence
While more people are comfortable being alone, because of the connectedness they feel at any point of time with their gadgets; they are automatically uncomfortable in silence. At a party, theatre, restaurant, even waiting for the lift, people find themselves whipping out their phones and ‘listening in’, ‘liking’, ‘sharing’ and ‘commenting’. They are uncomfortable with idle time or stillness. They must reach out to someone, somewhere or do something. The virtual world provides us sound and distraction at every turn. And we find ourselves choosing that distraction, because our uncontrolled thoughts quickly tap into a world of loneliness and insecurity. Do our cultural connections allow us the freedom to remain alone?

The Fine Line
For society to grudgingly consent that it is acceptable to be alone, it may become easier for people to take their time over choosing – or never choosing – a companion. Traditional relationships may move over to long-term friendships and multiple relationships. It is likely to create a lower threshold for tolerance – we don’t need to work on a relationship or a compromise if we can be happy alone. It is the fine line between finding yourself and moving beyond self-centeredness. A line that we must tread carefully, so that we may retain a strong sense of self, with the empathy, understanding and a desire to create a society of amiable coexistence.

The Leaning Effect

26 Sunday Oct 2014

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Publication: Verve Magazine, Social Chronicles

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Marriage, Musings, Verve Magazine

Vervemagazine.in October 2014
Illustration by Wyanet Vaz

Women are choosing to take their time before tying the knot, thinking fiercely about a potential loss of freedom, the pressure to start a family and career compromises in an increasingly driven world, wondering who will be on top….

Setting metaphoric innuendos aside, enough has been said about a woman having it all and playing a juggling act with everything including her own sanity. With home being the woman’s domain and the workplace being the man’s, guidelines are crisply divided – the lakshman rekha is sindoor red. What happens when those boundaries are crossed? Everything becomes grey and the girl doesn’t want any sindoor red. The man feels emaciated and the woman feels burdened with judgement.

Even when it became socially acceptable for a woman after marriage to ‘stay busy’ so that she basically wouldn’t spend the family wealth shopping, it was understood that she would do so in socially acceptable places, with timings and choices and clothes that kept her family maryada in mind at all times. Mostly, she either ran her own home business or she worked out of her father’s or husband’s office. It was considered taboo for a woman of means to work outside the family limits. It’s not like she needed the money after all!

And what about wanting to do something that is more than being the household accountant and ironing out domestic problems? An educated woman, who has worked before marriage, is likely to have a desire to build a healthy career of her own – one that may not be convenient, or secure or easy. But how does a man and his family knuckle down to it?

And then the ‘supportive family’ arrived. In an age of inflation and an era of success stories, there is a greater desire for families to accept their daughters-in-law’s careers and achievements. But that didn’t mean that a woman would stop doing what she was traditionally expected to – she still ran the house and ordered groceries and tallied salaries and cooked and managed and juggled her career alongside it all. This led to people beginning to question whether women could have it all….

So, it’s not surprising that women are pushing marriage to later in life, because while it is possible for a woman to metaphorically be on top, is it possible for her to be on top of everything without spreading herself too thin? There may be a solution, as Facebook’s CEO, Sheryl Sandberg pointed out in her book, Lean In. It talks about making your partner a real partner, moving forward to accept shared responsibility of building a life and family together. In our celebrated patriarchal society where women are relegated as dependent on men, it is empowering to think that there can be a chance for ambition and salvation in the same sentence.

Love Actually?

04 Thursday Sep 2014

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Publication: Verve Magazine, Social Chronicles

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Anti-View, Marriage, romance, Verve Magazine

Published: Verve Magazine, September 2014, Anti-View

Does love play an important role in Indian marriages today? A country that survives on celluloid rom-coms may be choosing practicality in real life

We grew up watching those regressive movies where everyone was always against love – marriage had to be a meeting of two families, economic status, caste, creed, sect, religion, language and mithai. Mishti doi couldn’t find place on the same platter as sevaiyaan for goodness’ sake! And then our Bollywood kings and queens would come swooping in with goose-bumpy tales of love, of love that conquers all.

We would sigh with pleasure when our heroes circumvented all odds and came together in holy matrimony. After taking the sacred pheras, no evil could befall them, and they would remain cocooned in the power of love.

Of course movies like Akele Hum, Akele Tum (1995), Chalte Chalte (2003) and Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna (2006) attempted to showcase the reality of marriage – that after the rose-tinted glasses are replaced with the horn-rimmed ones, it’s never quite happily ever after.

People can’t change and while their circumstances may, can love overcome it all? When director Imtiaz Ali and I sat together to concoct a love story by meshing Jab We Met and Love Aaj Kal together for Verve, he pointed out that there is a reason that love stories end when they do. No one needs to face the reality of actually making a life together afterwards – people need to walk away with hope.

In urban India, the youth is no longer enamoured by love. Where earlier parents chose the partners for their children and the latter rebelliously yearned to be with who they wanted to be, today, the youth decides upon marriage via a purely clinical checklist. If the top criteria are met, it shall make a successful partnership. So in a way, it has come a full circle, where choices are made based on practical external factors rather than mushy feelings and red hot desire – the only difference is that the youth is willing to make those decisions if the parents won’t. After all, people are getting more practical by the day – can one survive life on love alone; doesn’t a country club membership and a neat set of wheels make life a smooth ride?

What has changed? Love isn’t a benchmark any more. You are lucky if the one you love also meets the points on the general marriage checklist; but it seems that people are more and more willing to go for things most important to them – economic comfort, a nuclear set-up, an easy-going partner and similar ideologies on travel (including the pursuit of a deep-sea diving certification). And it’s not settling for someone, it’s a well-considered arrangement that is legally bound to end happily ever after. Who shall dare to ask for more?

The Secret Key

17 Tuesday Dec 2013

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Publication: Verve Magazine, Social Chronicles

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Published: Verve Magazine, December 2013 (Nerve/Trend)

Any social climber worth her salt knows that you can’t ever be seen enjoying a movie premiere or its after party. It’s scoring the secret after-after party invite that catapults you into the big league

Every girl dreams of the invitation-only invite. The kind that has a security code or a special key, or a map to a secret location; which means that you are someone special, or at least special to someone important. Subterfuge of some sort would be necessary for the kind of party that only a select few go to – for the kind of party that everyone including the media is dying to get into, but can’t. To get there though, you have to know which party to miss. For instance, plebeians die to get into a movie premiere. But really important people never really have time to sit through an entire film viewing. If you actually watch the film, you don’t exhibit the kind of class required to be a red carpet personality. Anyone who makes an appearance on the red carpet for a movie premiere is only doing it because they owe the producer one, or are a friend of the lead, or they are dying to be in the director’s next film. What they will undoubtedly do is beat a quick retreat from the back exit set up just for that purpose. (The wise reader never believes the reviews they spout to the media about how great the film is.)

So if you aren’t the person the paparazzi is tracking, then you have a decision to make. Will you be the non-entity actually watching the film, or will you be preparing yourself to hit the celebration bash? Every movie premiere has an after party. To celebrate the success…because the producers already knew the film would be hugely appreciated before the premiere! It makes one wonder – does the hype sell the film or does the film make the hype? Anyway, there is an enormous after party, where the Who’s Who of the fraternity must be seen in attendance. The booze is flowing, the people are making merry, but suddenly, once the paparazzi have got their entry photos, it seems that the revellers are once again, non-entities. Middle-aged men, dupatta-twirling women seem to be hitting the dance floor and all the pretty people have mysteriously disappeared or bypassed the event entirely.

There is only one place they could be at: the secret after-after party. You need to be in the know to know about the location and time of this happening. Generally starting in the wee hours of the morning, this is where the show hits the road. Booze of a different dimension, party elements in their element, over-the-counter offerings and clandestine liaisons. Only the in-crowd and their trustworthy buddies can ever see the inside of this party. Held in the suite of the hotel where the after-party was hosted, or at the director’s house, or in some special inner private room, the movers and shakers are moving and shaking here. So when I got my special invite to the after-after party – I knew I’d arrived. I didn’t even look for the movie invite. Who wants to watch the film when you can be a part of the show?

A Bag On My Plate

08 Friday Nov 2013

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Fashion & Style, Publication: Verve Magazine, Social Chronicles

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Published: Verve Magazine, November 2013, Humour

For a vegetarian who extends her ideals to accessory shopping, the luxe world of gorgeous handbags doesn’t really hit the spot

I’m one of those grass-eaters who is really into the principle of things. It’s a simple equation – you don’t eat animals, you don’t wear them. It may sound noble, but saying ‘no’ to leather isn’t glamorous. You don’t get to carry egg-shell blue Pradas to work or stunning little Fendi numbers to night soirees and you definitely can’t teeter in those fabulous Choos as you try to hold down that glass of Prosecco. You defiantly clutch your faux leather bag and use it as a status symbol of your principles rather than the ability to wear fashion and money well. You are relegated to high street choices while requesting the high fashion brands to come up with at least one non-leather article of choice.

You have pretty nearly given up hope, when they do! You discover the Fallabella world of Stella (isn’t the rhyme just darling?) and dance a merry jig when Bottega introduces its line of satin and linen knots in gorgeous hues. You gaze adoringly at the bright canvas totes that suddenly appear on the shelves of Ferragamo, marvel at the sheer hardness of the Jimmy Choo acrylic clutches. And you really are a kid in a candy store when faced with the riot of colours offered in Furla’s line of PVC candy bags.

And so it happens. You fall in love. But you can’t fall in love after debating the vast range of choices – you fall in love with the limited options you have. Or you quickly go and buy all the limited options before they change their mind and start using hide exclusively. As you swipe your credit card you think that you are only supporting the cause – they need encouragement to keep up the good work. And, if all else fails, you send a silent prayer to the fashion goddesses above to understand the sheer excellence of choices.

But dead animals aside, candy, colours and acrylic make you feel youthful again. Isn’t that what bags and shoes are all about? As a little girl you wear your mother’s heels for the first time and carry a bag with your little-girl possessions tucked away carefully and do you ever grow out of loving the feeling of feeling grown up? And as you grow up and learn to prefer one brand over another, you treasure the moments that make you feel like a little girl with her first bag all over again. There are feelings, moments, emotions and a lifetime all clutched in a purse and you simply don’t want to let go. And whether you wish to wear an animal or not, the girl in you feels quite the same way about the bag.

Waiting for the gang….

22 Friday Feb 2013

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Publication: Verve Magazine, Social Chronicles

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Verve Magazine

Published: Verve Magazine, February 2013, Nerve>Society

Cliques are strange circles, providing the ability to extend your own sense of self with a soulmate. But what happens when you get stuck with the one person whom you don’t get and one who just doesn’t get you?

You are the person looking in, waiting to be a part of the camaraderie, the shuffle, the Cha-Cha-Cha of conversation and friendship as if it were a graceful routine you can master. But then, on occasion, you may get stuck with a foolish wit, the Ernest kind, or daresay…a doppelgänger – someone who must be having a nefarious purpose in being a part of the universe, but appears unnaturally, and to be a part of yours.

One fine day, a major plan is made, wine and dine you must, to celebrate a special occasion, for which reason, the group plans to meet at a designated spot. Unfortunately the Wit and you are the only ones to arrive so far. Both of you sit in absurdist silence; manage to jerk out a few syllables on the day, the lateness of the others, irritated noises, frustrated gasps and a whole lot of grunting. It’s not too removed from the first time you have inexperienced sex while you are drunk and want to throw up. No one really knows what works. And it mostly doesn’t.

As most young women of today are trained in yoga for situations like these, deep breathing may work – and if you concentrate really hard, the unpleasantness of the creature in front of you can be ignored. And just when you are able to block him out of your radar, he chooses to launch. Into an involved conversation – to fill the nervous tension in the air. He’s grandly describing his immense and far-reaching connections – for a man with connections must be in want of an unfortunate sod to show them off to. He blathers on and you attempt to tune him out, painting mental pictures of a rose water bath or a peppermint scrub. And then you visualise his hairy arms soaking in the bath. Shudder.

You inadvertently look up at him and see a green leaf stuck in his tooth, and balk. Wondering whether you should mention it – for the sake of the group and everything. But that may mortify him further and create more nervous conversation. You suddenly notice he’s going on about lizards and earmuffs…what did you miss? You begin debating whether abandoning your gang at this stage in your life would be appropriate. Beat a hasty retreat, cut your losses et cetera.

While you never spent much time with this person when meeting in a group, you would never have anticipated being so incredibly out of sync. Do you all really work well together or are you merely victims of degrees of separation? Do you all exist as characters of a musical and the sounds of discord happen when each sur is heard separately. Perhaps you haven’t cultivated an individual identity – you are nothing more than a sum of all people. You hear a sound. The others have arrived. Snap.

Angry Bashers

15 Tuesday Jan 2013

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Humour, Publication: Verve Magazine, Social Chronicles

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Published: Verve Magazine, December 2012, Musings
Illustration: Wyanet Vaz

For the guests to be left dry and not high would be the death wish of a host trying to throw a successful party.

At a very chic soiree on Malabar Hill recently, we arrived bearing gifts, an appetite and a desire to while the day’s annoyances away with a quencher. As we air kissed and settled into the plush little seating arrangements dotting the landscape, we pecked on a canapé (corn and mushroom tartlet, if you must know), as a waiter arrived with a tinkle of delicate glasses, swirls of orange rind and whiffs of lemongrass. The eyes of the general populace lit up in anticipation – wine or pink champagne is generally the order of the day, after all we were toasting the arrival of someone special – but if our hosts meant to serve up a unique cocktail, so be it. After all, many hosts try to create a unique stamp of their own. In their personalised branded brandy glasses come concoctions of intoxication brewed under their eagle eye – a special mix that can only be served in their home. We reached out for the glasses filled with pale grey liquid in unison, swishing about with promise; and as we touched it to our lips I could see eyes widen in confusion, shock and then distaste in one fluid motion.

Coconut water! In whatever way it is served up, in however a fancy method of presentation, it isn’t rum. And as much as one pretends, one can’t get buzzed on it. The unfortunate truth about the parties of today is that it is less about the delicately-flavoured food and sharp repartees and more about the strength and calibre of the inebriating substance preceding or accompanying it. I could see the rumble of restlessness float through the guests, shifting eyes darting for an escape, some disbelieving glances flickering around for the host to come out and cackle, ‘Gotcha!’ and bring out the real stuff with a flourish. The men, whose throats suddenly went dry without their favourite tipple, found that their ability to hold the bejewelled lady next to them in witty conversation also faded away. A sudden appalling silence filled the room – and the brave ones continued whispering as they do when someone has passed away. The ambience of celebration and merriment became one of stilted sentences and uncomfortable silences. The charming hosts flitted from one gathering to another, in complete oblivion.

Bruschettas! They became the saviour of the party. Without the safety net of a drink in hand, the harried attendees began to stuff their faces. It would keep them safe from awkward conversations, for no polite company will talk with food in their mouth. If the servers appeared surprised that their trays replete with tasty little servings were getting depleted before they even reached half-way across the room, they were well-trained enough to not show it. And of course, they ran out of starters.

Meanwhile, as the older gentlemen bravely bore the no-show of their favourite buddies, Jack, Jim and Johnnie, and their wives tapped their arms comfortingly, the younger lot assumed that the youth of the house would have a bar tucked away in their part of the apartment. In fierce determination, the skinny little things and the six-pack guys flounced to the other side of the house in search for a better life. Their astonishment wasn’t quite as well masked, as they discovered that there weren’t even any miniatures tucked away under a silk cushion somewhere. After all, they were all game to pretend they were drinking nariyal paani – this was the generation adept at deception. At this stage, I could sense the beginnings of a rumbling – the signs of a no-booze-brawl were all there. The girls shifted uneasily in their sky-high strappies, the boys muttered angrily under their 8-o’clock-and-no-drink shadows.

The remonstrative voices seemed to get louder and louder until I was sure even the neighbours would soon realise that there was a teetotaller party happening on the premises. What if they called the cops? We wouldn’t even have a bottle of alcohol to gift them with! (In case you aren’t aware, the good man will meekly look the other way if you hand him a nice one over the security grill.)

As reality set in and everyone realised that there wasn’t much left to this party and even the toasties had run out, dinner was a quick affair. By 8:30pm dinner was served and by 9:00pm dinner was wrapped up. Everyone was now on a mission, with all the BlackBerrys and iPhones out and frantic messages being sent back and forth to find a place to drink to make up for the precious hours lost. Those who could bear eating on an alcohol-free stomach, piled their plates up high and freely commented on the delicious food. The hostess beamed with pleasure – she felt that she had, once again, nailed the party. The irony was possibly lost on her.

I salute the host who attempts to bring in a certain amount of sobriety to a social gathering. It’s become too much of the norm of polite society to have alcohol-laden veins to muscle butterfly evenings. Are we unable to conduct a decent conversation or enjoy the company of friends without generous splashes of booze? Is it our own inadequacies we need to overcome or are we suggesting that people around us are so intolerable that we need the crutch of intoxication? Shouldn’t it be the choice of the host to serve or not serve? Is a successful party one that lasts into the wee hours of the night where guests teeter and titter on pointlessly? Is it one where you can discuss the shenanigans of the evening with great zest all of the next day while nursing hangovers? Or is it popularly one where you can’t recall anything from the previous night, even how you got home?

At this particular one, I ate with great relish, enjoying the first party I had been to in a decade that actually laid out its meal at an earthly hour. At most others, we bravely nibble at the hors d’oeuvres trying to quell the loud hunger pangs that must surely be audible to all and sundry. Being soberly full is so much my choice of gathering than inebriated and hungry. But, as I observed with some amusement the various reactions to this party, I grimly made a mental note to pack in a punch at my own little do. Salt-laced Margaritas, I’m thinking. And apparently, nowadays, no one likes a virgin.

‘A Suitable Girl’ @vervemagazine September Bridal Issue

21 Friday Sep 2012

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Humour, Publication: Verve Magazine, Social Chronicles

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Published: Verve Magazine, September 2012, Verve’s Got The Nerve

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife drawing a good ‘package’

My darling Jane Austen would turn in her grave at the unsightly events taking place in the high society of Mumbai. The patrons of SoBo who may be old or new money (after all today who’s checking how mosscovered your tijori may be?) apparently want the best for their sons. Sarva gun samparna and seva are all in their place, and dowry may be a bit antiquated even if you do expect the Beamer with polka-studded leather seats at your doorstep, at the very least, but what you do question is whether the girl is happening – career-wise or not.

There were days when girls were made to study home science, because that made them imminently eligible in their green-thumbsewing glory. They were promptly married off about the time they were to graduate – or even right before their exams, so that the timing was just suitable to learning and never applying their knowledge. As society became more egalitarian, girls were encouraged to be thought of as equal to boys – taking up the glorious path of law. It seemed so much nicer to say, ‘My daughter is ridiculously smart – she can ensure you know how to write your will even before you decide to make one.’

The few parents, who understood that their girls possessed rare talent, were encouraged to take up science and dare-to-be-different medicine. A new breed of doctors emerged who then juggled clinics and medical practice along with raising a family. The wonder women: whom the fathers and fathers-in-law were proud of. They stood apart from the designers. Every alternate house had a clothes or jewellery designer in their midst, as if the world’s artistic ability had concentrated itself in SoBo. But this made the in-laws happy, because their daughters-in-law were ‘busy’ and yet, always at their beck and call.

But all hell broke loose when the parents agreed to let their daughters into what was formerly a man’s domain: accounting, business administration, marketing, banking and commerce – they didn’t know that they were unleashing a new wave of talent. As the Indian economy exploded and the multinationals came into the fray, the girls in finance (particularly those with a ‘foreign education’) became the ‘it’ girls of high society. Drawing massive salaries, often unheard of in polite company – it is rude to even mention those figures – the in-laws realised that it’s not just what you drive or what you wear that defines you as a person. It’s where you work and how much you earn. It’s the package. A school teacher stands no chance in the society meat market – even if she makes the best chocolates and candles – amongst the brainiacs that know their money and can bet on it. Happy is a father-in-law who can carelessly slide into a conversation, ‘She draws a six figure salary… every month,’ observing the jaws drop and then sitting back with a satisfied air.

As women struggle to become men’s equals, the men have decided to accept it. In fact, they find it deeply favourable. Fathers encourage their sons to ensure a suitable match – it will ensure a comfortable life forevermore, whether he works or not. Househusbands may become the new male of Indian society. The ideal scenario would be to produce three lazy sons. Get them married to a doctor, a lawyer and a banker respectively. You are so sorted. Just avoid the writer who can spill the beans.

Bored Games

10 Tuesday Jul 2012

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Humour, Publication: Verve Magazine, Social Chronicles

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Published: Verve Magazine, July 2012

In a swiftly-changing world peopled with inner demons, complex characters and spiralling violence, games and activities for kids have considerably morphed…

Remember the classic old-fashioned board game? The well-worn box that contained innocuous tools that began describing who we were to become as people, began giving free play to our subconscious personalities, whether dominant or submissive, as we learnt how to manage money, life, homes, countries, and even run medical check-ups, all in one night. We lived to spend hours in cozy drawing rooms and nurseries getting feisty over fake wealth, secret missions and die rolls. When did we trade in competitive fun for corporate ladders and managerial snakes? When did we keep aside the Monopoly money for hard cash and real real estate? When did we abandon Scrabble for SMSes?

Smartphones, iPads and computers make it possible to play games virtually. But having real people across the board to trash talk to, midnight feasts and conspiratorial whispers, and even reaching out to the board and flinging it across the room and watching all the little pieces scatter when you lose, is not quite possible in a stale, impersonal, virtual world.

Virtual games tend to walk on the evil side of life in their full experiential fantasy. Stealing cars, sniper games, subterranean ninjas, they make you more exhausted mentally and emotionally than relaxed. British nursery rhymes had a dark side that found roots in the time of war and the plague and served to prepare children for dark times. If our stories, games and activities for children are a sign of the times, we live in not-so-happy times. Building nuclear missiles, being trigger-happy, a desperate desire to save the world – it says something about the current state of society. Where childrens’ tales once spoke about an evil aunt or teacher, it’s our world that is now evil. We are fighting bigger and stronger forces than we ever imagined. We need armies. They have armies. Where once children were made to come to terms with death, today they are dealing with and becoming accustomed to killings. It’s mass bloodshed. Young boys hook up with prostitutes inside a stolen car and then kill the prostitute cold-bloodedly in the multi-award-winning satire on American life, Grand Theft Auto series. Its adult and violent content has not stopped it – in fact it aided it – in becoming one of the most popular video games worldwide.

What’s changed is that it is not as simple as good and bad any more. Characters have grey shades, they have a background, they bring baggage to the table. People are more complex as are the situations they are entwined in. We are teaching our children that the world isn’t a simple place. We are encouraging them to learn that it’s mean out there and to come to terms with their own inner demons. We are suggesting that they find an aspect of their personality that allows them to be bigger and better than the low-lives they are observing and role-playing.

It’s our subversive fascination with darkness and evil. If Shakespeare set the trend, then the gaming industry has perpetuated it. Clue would need to be updated to not finding the murderer, but being the murderer. Monopoly and Risk would go one step further: taking over and then destroying places and continents. Snakes & Ladders would be about killing the competition, not just winning over the competitors. Basically, playing fair would be taboo.