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sitanshi talati-parikh

sitanshi talati-parikh

Tag Archives: Partying

Not Just Child’s Play

03 Wednesday Apr 2013

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Parenting, Publication: Mother's World

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Mother's World Magazine, Motherhood, Partying

Published: Mother’s World magazine, April-June 2013, Comment

What’s a child’s play without an elephant and a circus? Should toddlers be left deprived of such pleasures of civilized urban life, and how far are we willing to go into this material carnival…?

What’s happening?

You don’t realize how incomplete your social calendar is until you have a child. The ‘in’ gift for a newborn is either a smart-phone or little black calendar book so that the Mum may then ably ‘manage’ her child’s events and invitations. Because you will have that many, if you have worked the new-mother-society right. You start right from when the child is in your womb, and begin collecting the numbers of other eligible mothers from the gynecologist’s clinic and Lamaze classes. You keep up the work until you reach the pediatrician’s clinic – it’s imperative that you take your child regularly there, to amass the greatest number of mums on your database – to ensure that your child always has a play-date or a party to attend.

No self-respecting mum would keep her newborn or toddler at home to get bored. It is a bit lame if someone calls you up to fix a play-date and you have a free day – your child’s day should be free only in event of a cancellation, which may be surprisingly frequent seeing that children have to cope with a hectic social life. And always have a roster of backups: the kind of people who may be related to you or whose mums are too involved to work in such a systematic approach to child rearing. They would be grateful that you thought of them, even if it is at the last minute. And a play-date isn’t really a play-date unless it is well thought out and planned, describing the educational level, skill set, calibre and hosting skills of the mother. From intricate arts and crafts that pop open in a box and musical events that define the dormant skills in our children to more elaborate ones where a little circus is organized. After all, what is a play-date without a real elephant or a few horses or a juggler and magician? Where ideally, a play-date is meant to be a one-on-one evening to encourage activity in your child with a slight nudge towards sharing and accommodating, today, mothers have confused them with carnivals.

You must go with a gift to every play date or event you attend, and it would be best to have a recycling cupboard and you are likely to get as many gifts, most of which would not match the exacting standards you have for your own kids, but would do very well for the others. You must also maintain a gift diary – who gave you what and of the approximate value. You can’t goof up by returning the same gift to the person it came from, nor must you over-spend on someone who gave your angel a silly little do. Of course, you must expect that the child you are gifting is smarter than their age (even if you are internally wishing they are slow), and therefore give an age-appropriate gift that’s meant for a kid at least a year older. After all, mums know that the age on the box doesn’t mean anything – you need to show off to other mums that your kid plays with older-kid toys.

Now if you have socially arrived, or want to prove that you don’t just exist, you must ensure everything that you gift is personalized. So you will need to painstakingly take every child’s name with the correct spelling – after all, parents are prone to complicated versions of names for uniqueness – and ensure that you get the gifts personalized as per age, sex and party theme. For this purpose, it’s best if you hire a party planner. No sensible mum will get involved in the nitty-gritties herself. Your job is to play mediator – between a demanding child, an exasperated dad (it’s his wallet after all) and a scheming party planner. And as a mum, you must invite the whole town, if possible, because that’s the kind of friend circle your child is destined to have. Your child must know everyone. And by default everyone must know your child. And therein lies the path to fame. Simply – by throwing the party. Everything is directly proportional to a better life. The grander the party, the more talked about it will be. Each child arrives with an entourage – mum and sometimes dad, and the nanny. All of the décor must be three-dimensional, because for your toddler, the world is not enough in it’s meager one or two-dimension-ness. There must be a string of games and stalls and events, because children need options today. There must be a spectacular buffet of palate-teasers – variety for the kids, variety for the mums and a staple box of goodies for the nanny. And if you are unable to provide food for the nanny, you can always hand out envelopes of cash – it’s smart, after all, that’s what the have-nots really value. And when your kids go to playschool, one must ensure that we have one-upped the gifts given by the other kids. If they did one personalized gift, we will do two. Paradoxically, budgets are infinite and money is not an issue when your child’s future social standing is in question.

 What happens when that happens?

Children are picking up material values as they go along: they understand luxury brands before they know the meaning of money or even know how to count. Before the child has held a book, the child has discovered the difference between an iPhone and a Blackberry. Apple was a healthy fruit, today it’s products are prized possessions and bargaining chips. When parents are asked to send their children to school with an object from a letter from the alphabet and the child comes in a Ferrari for ‘F’, when children have come home sobbing because of the injustice and severe humiliation of having to show face at school in a Toyota car when the others arrive in Mercedes’; you begin to question how you can battle the problems of a materialistic society that survives on the luxe market to prove it’s self worth. If a child is linking self-worth to a material good, it won’t be far that we have a society of no-gooders. With the desire to get bigger and better, faster and to prove that we are very ‘with-it’, mothers have begun to forget the basic idea of parenting – the fact that children don’t need more than the most basic tools to learn, an attentive parent to guide them and a controlled foundation from which to build upon and become a better human being.

 What you can do to not let that happen….

But in a world full of negative peer pressure, how does a sensible mother keep her head on her shoulders and bring up a child that the world would be proud to have as an adult? Not a child that wears Burberry and carries Prada with aplomb and has nothing else to say for herself, but a child that values human worth before material gain: to make the child understand that it’s not who you wear but who you are that counts. For a mother to decide to be different from the madding crowd and to stray from those that wish to derail human values, it is important to believe in oneself and have an unwavering faith in doing the right thing instead of doing things right. What does that mean in real terms? Not sheltering your child from the reality of the world for one. Letting your child explore options and letting your child know brands. But through it all, ensuring that he doesn’t begin to value the brand as something to aspire towards, but as a choice. Explain the differences between engine power or threadwork rather than revering a price tag. Let your child understand the value of money. Don’t allow your child to become spoilt because you want him to have everything his friend does, or everything you didn’t. Listen to what he wants. Where do his interests lie? For instance, is he keen on painting or building? Then invest in something that you feel he really enjoys. Keep innovative parties, involve him in the party decisions, deliberations and creative ideations. Ask his help in choosing colours and décor, get him to help with cutting and pasting. It will be a fun activity and he will value it. He won’t compare it to another, if he had a hand in creating it. When you make your child a composer, he is less likely to find the music of another sweeter.

It’s also important to find like-minded people: the madness of many as opposed to the rationality of a few. Whom you talk to – with respect to schools, parties, events and activities – makes a difference to the way you begin to think. Your child trusts your judgement – make sure it’s the right one and based on the right decisions. For instance, a mother may tell you to apply to a certain school, “Because it’s the best!” But it’s very important to understand what that means – find out what is special about the school. You’d be surprised how much people consider things that you may not care for. A school may be great for them because it pulls the ‘right’ crowd, prepares your child academically or even has imported equipment! You need to see what you value and what kind of an education or influence you wish your child to have, and accordingly make decisions. The moment you choose for the right reasons, you will find it easier to attract the right peers for your child and surround yourself with the right influencers. Or at least the ones that match your own thinking. Because somebody’s Potter could be someone’s Voldemort.

Mumbai On The Rocks

19 Monday Feb 2007

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

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comment, Goa, India, Lifestyle, mumbai, Nightlife, Partying

Published: Verve Magazine, Musings, January 2007
Illustration by Farzana Cooper

Sitanshi Talati-Parikh meditates on Mumbai, a city where sex, drugs and alcohol race through the party circuit, Indian traditional values are discussed over sheesha and bhang and the hippest people are those that find a perfect balance between the raciness of the culture and the values that are harped on at home

Musings01

Hip, trendy and captivating. When the season to entertain is here, the tourists and diaspora start floating in with the cool Queen’s Necklace breezes, looking starry-eyed and thirsty. Coconut water or lassi isn’t their cup of tea; the quenchers are fresh sugarcane martinis and melon caipirinhas. They move to a beat that is ultimately Mumbai – trippy techno, remixed goldies and American hip-hop. Their cuisine of choice isn’t kebabs and bukharas, but French fusion and Thai curry. The melting pot of cultures that they want to experience isn’t Punjabi, Gujarati, Muslim and Christian, but a svelte girl in a miniskirt, getting ‘hammered’ on a vodka-with-wings, grooving to hip-hop and making eyes at a wannabe American frat-boy. Where sex, drugs and alcohol race through the party circuit, Indian traditional values are discussed over sheesha and bhang and the hippest people are those that find a perfect balance between the raciness of the culture and values that are harped on at home.

They flock in hordes, flooding every fashionable place in sight from Colaba to Juhu, experiencing the way of life that is Mumbai. The Gateway of India is just a landmark for the Taj Tower or Privé, the lounge bar and Elephanta, Ajanta and Ellora are mystical card patterns sold at traffic signals. From breakfast at popular bistro, Basilico, late lunches at Indigo Deli, percussion and cocktails at Henry Tham, wine at Intercontinental’s dome, sushi at Shiru, sheesha at Souk and dinner at India Jones, these tourists are here for the nouveau luxury and sophistication that is creeping into the bumpy roads that still continue to get dug up every few months, whilst fabulous new buildings and sparkling malls pop up at every intersection. The chauffer-driven Mercs and Beamers, bearing Armani and Zara, chandelier earrings, platinum credit cards and stiletto heels, accompany them to all the hot spots, where the conversation is no longer about what is going wrong, but what is going right.

As my friends start holding their designer exhibitions in happening nightspots like Red Light, instead of staid shops, homes and galleries and art is displayed and discussed over wine and hors d’oeuvres at Saltwater Grill and at evening shows at Dusk, before a nightcap at Olive, one begins to wonder whether the city’s nightlife is pervading our everyday existence. Ryan Tham, restaurant owner, believes that it is the constant need to do and try something different. I wonder: are we really so different, or are we aping a culture that we have brought home with us, after our sojourns abroad? Is this who we want to be and is this an organic social change, or one that is racing headfirst towards collision with an intrinsic culture that is no longer in line with what is considered ‘in’?

Sunday brunches are the new buzz in a city that apparently has no limits – it is no longer chic to throw a party into the wee hours of the night – rather, it is delicately suggested to drop by for a Sunday brunch at one of the happening lounges – Vie, Squeeze, Taxi, Ra. As the sophisticates stroll in by 2 p.m., the welcome drink is a shooter – tequila, kamikaze, and slammer. Inside, the liquor and rhythm are readily flowing, replicating a night-time soirée. The only noticeable difference between the partying a few hours prior and the afternoon lies in the designer pair of sunglasses that must accompany every man and woman, to be considered fittingly attired for the occasion. To be seen without one of those, is a faux pas of the biggest sort! It is mid-afternoon, after all, and what better way to hide the previous night’s hangover than with a pair of gargantuan Versace or Gucci shades that cover most of the painstakingly made-up faces? Fabulous summer dresses, skinny heels and matching totes are perfect for the occasion, where conversation gets tiresome and the music gets louder until the invitees inevitably get completely inebriated by early evening. The ‘lunch’ is of course served by 4 p.m. and eaten in most part by 6 p.m. As I wondered why these invasive, but inordinately jolly, gatherings sliced straight through my routine massage on my only free day of the week, I was perkily asked by one very tipsy girl, what better day to party than that of the Sabbath? Besides, the best way to get rid of Saturday night’s hangover is to simply roll out of bed and drink some more! The future of cosmopolitan India suddenly looked painfully bright through the skylight.

This is the much-touted ‘McDonaldisation’ of Indian culture. Our Art of Living has found a new form of materialistic meditation, where money flows like a brook, as easily in as out. I am not surprised to find friends under 30 with complaints of high blood pressure, premature balding, cholesterol and heart trouble. Stress amongst the youth is as common as a Louis Vuitton at a party and as high as the sensex. In the race to become a Manhattan, we are quickly becoming mad hatters. Life is on speed dial and a party’s calling.

For those aching for a different scene, Goa is the ultimate weekend spot right around the corner. From ramshackle beach shacks to exquisite luxury resorts, they zoom in by the hordes. Bathing, tanning and getting ‘stoned’, Goa is their escape from the reality of their lives. They’re quietly raving but not ranting; the youth has given up complaints in lieu of escapist complacence. From Manchester to Mumbai, people ironically swoop in to hide in this ecstasy-driven pleasure haven. King’s beer, Goan curry, Domino’s pizza served on the beach, entrancing music, bohemian culture and a pace of life that refuses to speak of stress or worry, ease the harried nerves and form a balm to the acid of each day.

From the palaces of the North, to the spas of the South, India has now begun selling a lifestyle that is contemporary and current, instead of the history and glory of the past. Whether this lifestyle is appropriate is no longer the question but the worldly Mumbaikar has arrived, with luxury, sophistication and ideas galore. The icing on the cake is his endless desire to party, every night, every day and on any occasion. As the visitors flicker in by the dozens, they feel more at home, away from home, where the metropolis buzzes with excitement every minute, laced with an intoxicating flavour that is truly, Indian cosmopolitan.

My American-born-desi friend looked scornful and shocked when my husband and I announced our decision to leave the Bushy ‘country of dreams’, to take the rickety and bumpy ride home. The same person, while visiting us recently, was culture-shocked by the life that was now Mumbai. After 12 event-packed days, he left, hung over, a few kilos heavier and determinedly clutching the business card of a real-estate agent in Mumbai.

From the Scandinavian girls in small-town Italy, who speak not of the Taj Mahal (monument), but of plush Indian resorts with fabulous swimming pools and massages, to the Argentinean couple touring China, who talk of the cultural differences and expensive lifestyles in cosmopolitan India, foreigners are no longer bewildered and querulous of this poor, once-rich country. They are now in awe of this rich, poor country that is climbing the lifestyle ladder faster than they can build rungs to the top. What is it that amazes them? The ability of this Asian peace-haven to break the Lakshman rekha of tradition and dance on the bar-top of fire? Or is curiosity to see how this yogic nation can successfully climb out of the quagmire that has been sold to them by a country that failed miserably in doing the same? And can we, the brainiacs of the globe, manage to come a full circle and find material peace with the fire that burns in our souls?

|  Filling the gaps between words.  |

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