Bleeding.. Turquoise?

Since when did Pakistan become our biggest adversary? And no I haven’t been living under a rock =/.

Like how about either of the teams opens a couple of beers and says, “In peace bro, enough of this nonsense, you can have the match if you want to.”

I know I know, this is not practical. And the game should go on, no need for this idealistic blabber. I agree with you. I’m just saying, for argument.

Its quite terrifying for me to think of the millions who have called in sick today or are not studying for exams, to sit at home and hope that Pakistan loses. I was asked to pray that India wins. Why do we Indians wait with bated breath for Pakistan to LOSE?

Exhibit A: “India has taken peace talks with Pakistan a bit too far by gifting them a place in the finals of the World Cup.” This is what a friend of mine had to say. This is racist, as far as I'm concerned, and hardly nationalistic.

I have never feared for my life, more than after this post =/

Extortion to Axetortion

You know, I often think of Facebook as a friendly neighbourhood. But that’s for another post, and I promise to link it here (I have finally figured out how to do it).

Today however, my aimless amble around my community turned into a hit and run when I was tagged in a picture for a gig this week at a club in the city.

The gig is called 'Axe-tortion' and indeed, it is promising to be night of face melting guitaring with four very prominent guitarists in the country! The montage of pictures of these four rocker men, were taken from various sources and put together in a line. Below the picture line-up was a list of their names. One of them is a friend of mine so I was able to immediately put the name to the face. That left me three more names and faces to match. However, something was amiss with the first two pictures and their names. The second name said Milind Deora. Milind Deora.. Deora, Milind.. And then my eyeballs began to grow unnaturally large as I took a closer look at the first guitarist. Was that a club dude waist coat, or I'll be damned, a neta suit? Or is that Mukesh Ambani? No fool, that's ridiculous!



Quick, give me Google!

So I googled his name. I had to be wrong, I'm sure I'm wrong, of course I'm wrong, I WILL BE WRONG!

I wasn't wrong.

Hello young India, guess what, your Member of Parliament from South Mumbai plays Jimi Hendrix.

My reaction to this news was violent to say the least.

So I YouTubed his name, and a long result of 'Milind Deora addresses parliament, Milind Deora on RTI' turned up… but then you hit the 'underound culture' that this side-parted MP also endorses. And you see his name in the same video title as 'Stevie Ray Vaughn', 'Freddie King' and so on.


You've heard of teenage girls turning starry eyed when they see their heroes haven't you?
Well it was like that for me (except that he's not my hero), only that my eyes were glazed and I suddenly received an image of a large tri-colour with a sex-drugs-and-rock-and-roll button badge occupying the central position. Oh sorry, in these days of sedition, it is distasteful to talk of such things.


Anyway, this is not some pseudo guitaring that he does, or some sympathy gigs he is given along with some paid audiences. He's actually playing- no sheet music, no hangs. He's playing real riffs, not faff like the odd chords that I play. And he's playing hard stuff, by blues legends.


He is not much of a performer, and maintains a largely impassive face. But this in itself sent me into fits. If I played footsie with him under the table, would I find him tapping to some song? If I stole his iPod, would I find BB King? Does he sing in the shower?

Ugh.

So to greet his screaming fans, his one hand does the open-palm sign of the Congress at a political rally and his other does a sign of the horns at a gig? And then he brings both those palms together in a namaste?


If I swore, I'd swear now. And spit.


I have a feeling I am the only one who finds these things funny. Why am I flipping about this? Politicians can't play music?

No no, politicians can. Like when Bill Clinton played the sax, see now that was cool.

But our politicians are usually more beast than human. Just like our film and sports stars are more god than human. If Milind Deora was proficient in Hindustani music, I wouldn’t be this aghast. If he played chess, made a damn good chicken curry on Sunday or pursued taxidermy, it would still be passable. But this is music that is said to be from the devil, it's foren music! There is nothing remotely politically correct about Jimi Hendrix. This, is like a ball of wool falling out of Manmohan Singh's briefcase causing him to admit that he knits all the sweaters for his grandchildren. It is as random and ridiculous as that.


As a young person who loves her music like any other young person, and is trying to be a good citizen like any… never mind that, I'm being honest- I am not so sure any more.

Like my mum always told me that clubs were not safe, and my daddy told me to never trust a man with a drink. But Ma, Pa, Milind Deora plays on a stage with a large Tuborg sign behind him!
"Ma, Pa, I want to serve my country. Politics?"
"NO!"
"Ma, Pa, I want to be a musician!"
"NO!"
"Ma, Pa, but Milind.."
"Ma, Pa, I want to be a political musician.. " *pleased at the sound of that*
"Dear Child… " "I never did like Dylan."

So you can be a nine to fiver and a nine to twelver also? Hahaha just who says!


This is more than just a gig, at least for Bangalore, and I see this as quite significant. Bangalore currently frowns upon alcohol and music at the same place [Don't look at me like that, yes it's true, you go figure and we are not discussing this here].
"This is the police. We're breaking up this party."
"Good evening gentlemen, my name is Milind Deora."


When men of steel and women of iron become flesh and blood, when they are close enough to touch the hems of their robes, what do you do? Throw your panties on stage of course.

Everyone was hopeful last elections, when we realised there were so many young people- Sachin, Rahul, Varun, Priyanka, Omar and Milind. Sounds like my best friends at college. And now one of them sits in the general spectator stands at the CWG and the other, well, I wont start all over again.


Hey Milind, I presume I can be on first name basis with you, and that neta suit makes you look fat.

Kapde- complexities and misnomers

Do you know the difference between the kurta, the kameez, the salwar and the churidhar? Do you know what Indians mean by the term ‘suit’?

For a long time when I was much younger, I acted, dressed and even sounded a lot like a boy. Wearing traditional Indian clothes, was not something anybody expect from me. I loved Indian clothes, just not on myself.

This last one year though, has seen my cupboards fill up, with kurtas that I pair with skinny jeans, a host of shoes/chappals, scarves and chunky jewellery to go.

I thought I knew my Indian clothes, but a recent conversation with a Punjabi friend unearthed some personally astounding facts.

She: “Hey, so do you have a saree ready? Have you stitched your blouse?”

Me: “No.. I’m not wearing a saree.”

She: “What?! But you’ll look great! You’re tall and thin!” (>_>)

Me: “Well erm.. I should’ve planned for it earlier. There’s no time now. But I got the material. I’m going to stitch a salwar. Its purple!”

She: “A what?”

Me: “A purple salw.. “

She: “You know.. all you people keep saying ‘salwar’ and it makes me so irritated. So what now, you plan on going only half clothed, with a bare chest?”

Me: “Huh?!”

She: “Salwar!! Salwar means only the bottom part.. salwar is only the pants! Kameez is the top part, the kurta!”

Me: “Oh, umm.. Well yea, that’s what I meant.”

Geez.. You think you know something..

Here's the next detail of Indian clothing I was unaware of.

While at the tailors (yet another Punjabi) to get my kameez stitched, she asked me: “So how tight do you want your suit?”

Me: “No! I said I wanted to get a kameez stitched!”

Her: “Huh?”

Me: “I don’t want a suit stitched out of my beautiful purple raw silk! I told you, I want a kameez stitched.. “

Her: “Ji, suit is same as kameez. Salwar-suit. We say like that na?”

Me: “Ah.”

A couple of weeks later, nearing the time of the event that my friend and I had been talking about earlier, I became desperate. I needed a matching white dupatta and white pajama to go with my kameez. I rounded up 15 aunties and accumulated a total of 17 dupattas (I was supposed to get another 8). They were all supposed to bring their clothes to church that week. My event was in a few days and it was very important that they didn’t forget, because I wouldn’t be able to collect it from them otherwise.

As for the pajama, I called up my best friend and said, “Hey, so can you bring me a white churidhar tomorrow?”

When I met her after service that day, I asked her for the stuff. She took out a giant plastic cover and showed me all the dupattas she’d brought me. “Where’s the white churidhar, like I’d asked you?” “What white one? I only have this one black chuddi.”, she replied, taking out a black kurta with silver embroidery.

I was fuming by now, that she’d been so careless, and panicking over what I was going to do for the event.

Me: “No no no! I’ve seen it! You wear it with this very same black kurta of yours!”

She: “Huh?”

By now, I realized what had happened. She thought ‘churidhar’ meant ‘kurta’, and thought that I had asked her to bring something she didn’t have. But churidhar is actually another type of pajama, worn by both men and women in the subcontinent, below their kurtas.

Aaah. I couldn’t blame her. I myself didn’t know the difference, until a few days before.

So I took a deep breath, and decided to educate her on the complexities of the kurta, the kameez, the salwar and the churidhar.

Millionaires off our own slums

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Slumdog Millionaire is all the buzz now. India is visibly excited about the movie. And the media hasn’t been helpful in distracting us from it either. If anything, they’ve been fueling us further on.

In the last 2 days running up to the Oscars, India’s most popular news channel NDTV, couldn’t get enough of it. The news reader today was unable to wipe the smile of her face, verging on coy at times even. All other national and international news was suspended for these last 2 days, with 15 minute bulletins, every hour or so. Instead, they repeated the same footage over and over, which their reporter in the US had sent them.

It wasn’t just the media who was celebrating. Several images and videos of families and random people, in a state of jubilation, because of the success of the movie, were being circulated.

Sometimes I feel so disconnected, and wonder if the problem is really me.

I wasn’t celebrating the success of the movie. And when it won the 8 Oscars that it did, I wasn’t happy. I was not jumping in my seat for the movie, because it is yet another white man making money out of us. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the world thrives on disparity.

The success of the movie was not ours. Indians nothing. It was directed by a non Indian. The screen play was by a non Indian. The movie was financed too, by a foreign company. Its their creativity that has been showcased in the movie, not ours. It happened to be about Indians, set in India and used stumble-upon Indian actors in it.

And yes, thank goodness there happened to be an Indian musician and sound mixer on set, who were talented and got recognized. Of course I’m happy for Rahman, Pookutty and the kids. But what if they had not won? We here in India were celebrating the movie even before news of Rahman’s victory. We were celebrating the movie because we thought it a big deal that such an Indian flavoured movie should have made it so far in the Oscar race, when several earlier entrants by Indian directors, had failed to cut it.

I was very agitated today, with this news. I picked up a conversation with a bunch of friends, but was literally asking for a fight, and wanted to find if I was judging this situation wrongly. One of my friends said something which accurately summed up what was going on in India. He said that people in India are seeing this as a Bollywood/Indian movie making it to Hollywood, when really it is Hollywood that has come down to Bollywood. And Hollywood won, but we think Bollywood did.

Danny Boyle doesn’t ‘love’ India, and so came with the noble intention of taking an Indian story to America. He came with the sole intention of creatively challenging himself. And the movie got points not because of highly unusual concepts, amazing special effects or jaw dropping acting. Sure it had a good story with universal appeal, and hey, there’s a million bucks involved! But this movie got points for the novelty of it. I don’t think even Danny Boyle thinks he has done India a service, by drawing attention to our immense poverty. He’s just made a movie. There’s nothing wrong with what Danny Boyle did. Nothing wrong in directing a successful film, that makes a lot of money. So I have no accusations of him. My only accusation is of the Indian public, that is being so gullible and weak.

Why didn’t Lagaan, Taare Zameen Par, or a much older Malayalam movie called Kala Pani get this far? They definitely had better stories, and great acting too (presuming these are some of the criteria involved in picking Oscar winners).Were they too brown for someone's liking?

Everything about this movie was characteristically Bollywood. If a person who was unaware of the details of the movie had watched it, he would have presumed it was directed by some Chopra or Mishra. There was song and dance. There was even a train scene at VT, so dear to Indian cinema.

Any Indian could have made this movie.

It so happened that the foreigner was smart enough to make Indians act in a movie about us, but in English, so that it reached a larger audience, who were intrigued by a culture they had never been exposed to before. He mimicked us. The style is ours, the glory is his. The slums are ours, the millions are his. He is the millionaire, from our slums. The foreigners are always smart. That’s why I’m so sore.

And what’s also sad is, that Indians have made movies about the trash in our backyards before. But we failed to appreciate and encourage it. As another friend of mine said, we here in India are always quick to rush off to Switzerland to shoot, when we have so much here that we can showcase. And finally, a wise white man came along, who saw the potential in our slums, and used it to his advantage.

Yet another friend said that no matter what, she was proud because ‘India made history tonight.’ I can give the movie credit as a movie. But saying that it is of historical importance to India or has ‘put India on the international cinema map’ is naïve. I just don’t understand how this was an honour for us.

When the Namesake began to do well at international film festivals and awards, was Australia celebrating because Jacinda Barrett had played a role in it? Are we celebrating every time Kal Penn gets a role in an English flick? Also, in the hypothetical situation of an Indian making a movie about Guatemala, it would only be a cause of celebration for India, if the movie won big. However if only won of the Guatemalan actors won awards for his acting, it would not be our party. And in a role reversal, it would be the people of Guatemala who will be celebrating.

The movie wouldn’t have been as effective if a rich man had won a million bucks. It needed a poor man in squalid conditions to win it. And welcome to India!

I know I cant generalize, but a lot of the western world already thinks India is over populated, polluted and under developed. A movie like this, even though it has only depicted the truth (and I don’t have a problem that it did), has perpetuated this notion of India being Third World, in thousands of under developed minds. And we are dancing in the streets about it?!

What I want us to realize here, is that in this movie, India was only a subject.

What of those children who were recruited straight from the slums, Rubina and Azhar? They are going to grow up thinking that a white man changed their lives. And indeed he did. But when they think that the white man saved them, they’re also going to think their country abandoned them, thus perpetuating the cycle, of us coloured people constantly feeling subordinate to the ones without colour.

Why are we clamouring so? Why are we fawning for attention? Why do we need a pat on the back from the white man, to feel good about ourselves?

Some of the ideals that Gandhi built this country on, are Swadeshi: of one’s own, self sufficiency and self reliance. These ideals do not just pertain to not purchasing of foreign goods and wearing of khadi. It also urges us to take more pride in ourselves, and what we have. Nothing we are today is truly indigenous. Everything is a leftover from an earlier invader. But when are we going to have confidence to be original and take pride in our own Indian kichidi?

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