Book Review---"A Calender Too Crowded"

Book Title: A Calender Too Crowded.

Author: Sagarika Chakraborty.

Born in Kolkata, Sagarika Chakraborty studied law at National Law University, Jodhpur and is currently studying management at IBM Hyderabad.
She is an avid salsa enthusiast.
Apart from her contribution to the field of research, she writes light fiction and poetry for online and print media.


Price: Rs 295/-

Publishing House: Niyogi Books.


A smile crossed my face as i switched on my laptop to post in a review about the book i had just finished savouring.
The calender reminded me it was the 24th of January---The National Day Of The Girl Child..What better day to write about a wonderfully crafted book on the need of emancipation of women and awareness about their status in society than today?

"A Calender Too Crowded" is a collection of poignant stories that revolve around the theme of womanhood and their continuing subjugation in society.
It deals with the need for emancipation of the fairer sex in an unfair society.It reveals the ugly truth carefully camouflaged by a hypocritical society of so-called 'equals'.

The book is divided into segments based on the calender months, carefully listing out the special days heralding woman rights in each month---before proceeding to narrate heart wrenching tales from rural and urban India.
While stories like 'The witch without a broomstick' and 'When the Ganges ran dry' speak about the injustice stemming from widowhood and biased mindsets, there is 'The homecoming' wherein a woman is given complete freedom to make a difficult decision and how her heart helps her in sorting out the confusion.

Repeated mention of characters from The Mahabharata helps the reader relate an era gone by to the present day world and likewise the position of women in each.

One amongst my favorites is a beautifully written letter addressed to Krishna by Panchali, wherein she reminds him on how a sense of equal friendship had prevailed over her as she ripped her Saree to dress his bleeding wound, when he was attacked by Shishupal.
Her innocent questions like "If the same was acceptable then, why is a hue and cry raised today when a woman stands up for a friend, who incidentally happens to be a man?" makes one ponder whether we are really living in a progressive society or a society in which women's emancipation (that we believe we are fighting for) is something that had already existed since time immemorial and is just covered under layers of dust?

The myths associated with the glamour world is discussed upon and so is the concept of the 'nice girl' who deserves much better.
With an equally sharp razor edged cynicism, Sagarika speaks of the insensitive remarks passed by society on rape victims 'inviting' it upon themselves, by blaming it on the way they dress or the timing that they return home.
Topics like prostitution, dowry deaths, infertility and single motherhood are also woven into stories that make one not just feel a lump in their throat but also swallow the acrid taste of reality and bitterness that surfaces up from time to time, while reading---the reality and bitterness that comes from the guilt of living in a society where womanhood is still cursed and trampled upon.

"Daughter-in-law's can never really become daughters and mother-in-law's can never really become mothers, but when do they cease to be human beings with minds and hearts?"
In her story about the dowry system, Sagarika makes us wonder whether the mark of the vermillon is a reason for security or the cause for insecurity.

Not disclosing a single name (neither real nor imaginary) in any of the twenty-two stories, Sagarika stands totally justified in saying that each of the story represents millions of oppressed souls, waiting to be heard.

Poetry is another strong form of expression which has been successfully made use of in "Can you hear me, ma?', 'Beyond those whispers' and 'The 'positive' negativity'.
Behind the rhyme and verses lies the harsh truth, subtle cynicism and a hint of optimism carefully wrapped in a neat little package.

The letters exchanged between chipku and her ammi in 'selling a body to gain a mind' are indeed heartwarming and speak volumes of a mother's love---ready to sacrifice every bit of her life for her daughter's good.The realisation that it is only when the girl child is educated that she will be able to get out of the drudgery that her mother had to face and will be able to live a life that is different and better than hers, is something that should not be ignored amidst the sea of emotions here.Very cleverly crafted, this story makes a special place in your heart.

What i particularly liked about Sagarika's writing is her optimism---the tiny beam of hope that is reflected in each of the stories, no matter how dark and sombre they may be---a hope that things can change..the optimism that things will.
The easy language and interesting flow of the stories compels the reader to be pulled into each of the stories and stay engrossed.
Sagarika Chakraborty's choice of topic has not only managed to impress me, but has also fuelled the flicker of hope that in the age of better selling romantic novels and Chick lit's, there still exists young minds that choose to write about topics far more important and yet far less discussed.

However, I only wish some of the stories could have had a little dialogue exchange between characters as that would probably have had a little more of an impact on the reader's mind.

All in all, I really liked the book and highly recommend it.

Rating: 3.5 out of 5


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A million brilliant lies...

You had a million brilliant lies,
when I asked if you missed me...
You had a million brilliant lies,
when I asked if you cared...
You had a million brilliant lies,
for every time you kissed me...
You had a million brilliant lies,
and at last, the truth to speak you dared...

You tell me now that you love another,
and that things are not the same...
You tell me you see a bit of heaven,
whenever she calls out your name...

You tell me she means something,
but think i am the one for you...
You tell me that you love her,
but say you love me too...

I have a million brilliant lies,
when you ask me if i will stay...
I have a million brilliant lies,
to promise to 'share' you this way...
I have a million brilliant lies,
to keep this wedding band...
I have a million brilliant lies,
to vow and hold your hand...

You chose to speak the truth at last,
and now I should do that too...
I have to let you know today,
that i am no more in love with you...

When i asked you if you missed me,
I could never believe your lie...
Everytime that you kissed me,
I would whisper a silent goodbye...

I had a million brilliant lies,
to think our love hadn't faded...
I had a million brilliant lies,
to tell myself we were fine...
I had a million brilliant lies,
to keep my heart from getting jaded...
I had a million brilliant lies,
to say that you were all mine...

But creeps in reality-through slits and cracks,
and paints the whole world blue...
And as she entered into your heart,
I fell out of love with you...

For a heart that loves always knows,
when someone else arrives...
and love is just a matter of trust,
not a million brilliant lies...

Life as a doctor---The Hippocratic Oath

A sharp mind should know to care,
a fiery tongue should neither curse nor swear,
for a caring mind is the one that wins,
and a tongue that swears is a tongue that sins...

"Mr Dattatray Dessai, you can go home today.You are completely fit for discharge" I said handing out the discharge card to the dhoti clad man sitting upright on the hospital bed.
The air smelled of incense sticks and talcum powder.Entering that private 'VIP' hospital room was like entering a parallel universe especially after having inhaled the smell of savlon and betadine dressings in the general ICU outside.

There were no follow up details to be mentioned and neither was there any prescription to be instructed upon.The patient had insisted on getting admitted and much to my disdain, the authorities had decided to humour him.
But there was not much a humble intern could say in such a situation---and so I had watched a perfectly healthy Mr Dattatray Dessai (bag et al) comfortably walk into the private room with a cheeky grin on face and an apparently long holiday in mind.

It was just the beginning of my internship then.After the tumultous 4 and a half years of MBBS torture, I had finally started living my dream (one that every medical student looks forward to, right from the first day of medical school) in the department of internal medicine.

...life as a doctor had just begun.

"I have already informed that i would like to stay here for atleast another couple of weeks" frowned Mr Dessai, like an angry tenant who had been suddenly told to vacate from a comfortable lodging.

A little taken aback by his rude reaction, i said "You are absolutely fine, Mr Dessai.Yours was just a case of mild diarrhoea which could very well be managed at home itself."

I was trying my best to smile but my patience was wearing thin.
On the one hand, there was this Mr Dattatray who had been seeking shelter under a hospital roof, in the comforts of a private ward in the ICU for the last one week for no specific medical condition.While on the other hand, there was a shortage of available ICU beds due to which a lot of patients had to be shifted out into the general ward as soon as they would show the slightest sign of recovery.

"Doctor, we have spoken to your senior in charge about this.You seem to be new here.The matter has been settled." snapped the relative standing near the bed.

He then proceeded to punch some numbers in his cell phone and talk to a man he addressed as 'bhau'.
All this while, Mr Dattatray was comfortably peeling oranges and popping them in his mouth.
The room now smelled tangy and soon it would smell of all the other fruits kept on the side table.
This man was a threat to the fruit kingdom, i thought to myself---there had not been a single time i had entered his room and seen his mouth at rest.

Visions of mafia had started drifting in my head with the utterance of the name 'bhau'.
I whisked it away as a case of over imagination combined with a rather generous dose of bollywood influence and thought it was better to confirm what the senior resident in charge thought about the case, before i said anything more.

"You don't understand, Priyanka.This 'Bhausaheb' is a very powerful man.He has a lot of political connections.Dattatray Dessai has been working with him for over 15 years now and is almost like an older brother to him.I cannot take the risk of declining him any sort of privilege, no matter how unreasonable.One call to the dean and my job can be at risk."

In a low voice, he continued, "Look, everybody at the hospital knows that this man does not require any treatment anymore.In fact he never needed any hospital care to begin with.
When he insisted that we admit him, we tried to talk him into being shifted in the 'observation room' in the general ward.
But the private room is the only room in the whole medicine unit which has a functioning AC and now that he is so comfortable with all the other VIP facilities there, he is refusing to budge."

"But sir, there is a serious case of Falciparum malaria in ward 115.We cant deny that patient intensive care.You know that there are only two interns in that ward and 80 beds there.He needs to be here instead...under constant vigilance."
I could not believe my ears.We were bargaining a life for a stupid air conditioner.How much sillier could it get?


"I know about that Falciparum case and i have discussed it with the consultants as well.Everyone knows the seriousness of his situation.His latest blood reports show a haemoglobin level of 4gm% which could prove fatal." He looked at me for a second, his eyes reflecting a helpless guilt.

"We had planned on shifting him on to Mr Dessai's bed....but..." he stopped with the realisation that i already knew the story.
Looking at the residents crestfallen face, i realised that he was pretty much helpless.
From what it seemed, the Dean was in a vulnerable spot too---the pressures of hierarchy.

I was on call that night and i couldn't sleep a wink.As i repeatedly called Ankita, the intern in ward 115, i was informed of how much Gangaram Shirodkar--the F.Malaria patient, needed to be moved to the ICU.
While we cribbed and ranted about the hypocrisy of the entire system, i saw Bhau Saheb's relative sleep peacefully, snoring away to glory in the cool confines of the air conditioned room which was now smelling of what seemed to me, a nauseous mix of fruit salad and sandalwood.

I had to wake up for a few RBSL (Resting Blood Sugar Level) checks at 5.30 am.That meant there was hardly a couple of hours left and all the patients were stable.
The only sign of instability in the ICU was the whirring motion of the ceiling fan in the duty room and the racing thoughts in my head which kept going back to Gangaram, who should have been there instead of Dessai who could have very well gone home.

Since i was not sleeping anyway, i decided to go and help Ankita in the ward by then.Asking the nurse to call me on my cell in case of any emergency, i walked out of the ICU.
Along the long corridor which connected the ICU to ward 115, i saw one relative of Mr Dattatray Dessai, leaning against a wall and talking loudly into his cellphone, like he owned the hospital.
On seeing me, he smirked a little---as a sign of acknowledgement.

When i reached ward 115, Ankita greeted me with a nervous look on her face.She was entering with two pints of blood in hand.

"for the Falciparum patient?" i asked.

"Yes Pri, I don't know what is happening.There are so many patients here.I cant manage all this at once.Rashi has called in sick.I'm the only intern managing all this commotion." I was almost beginning to feel Ankita would collapse any moment.Her teary eyed face spoke volumes of responsibility.
Besides it was unfair of Rashi to have not arranged for another intern to compensate for her absence.But then, we couldn't blame her either---Sickness doesn't come with warning, does it?

I took the pints from her hand and asked her the details.She seemed like she could need all the relief one could possibly give her.I had one hour and 50 minutes to offer, if all went well back at the ICU.
Walking towards bed 22, i noticed a scrawny man of about 30.He looked pale and emaciated.The charts showed a fever which was peaking every two hours that day.Gangaram Shirodkar 32/M, the case papers read.
Below in big bold letters, the diagnosis read 'F.Malaria' with the used falcivax kit taped to the paper, showing a line at the place marked 'F' for falciparum.
As soon as i reached the side of the bed to transfuse the blood, a woman who was sleeping on the floor crawled out from underneath the bed.
Adjusting her tattered but clean cotton Saree, she greeted me and asked when her husband could be discharged.
When I told her that we would be shifting her husband to the ICU for better care, she immediately asked me when that would be possible.
Snippets from the conversation with Mr Dessai and later with the SR came to mind, and I fumbled for an answer.
"soon" I muttered.

She said nothing.She just smiled like someone who had been promised life so many times, that she did not believe in life (leave alone 'promises') anymore.

Behind that smile, i saw pain---pain of seeing her husband suffer in the suboptimal conditions in the ward when he needed intensive care.
Behind that smile, i saw hurt---hurt that we doctors were not doing anything about it and still claiming that the govt organisation was there to help the needy.
Behind that smile, i saw terror---terror of the unknown, of the darkness that lied ahead had the sole earning member of her family to disappear, leaving her and her three children in the jaws of poverty and inhumanity.

That was when i couldn't take it anymore.As i transfused the pint of blood, i felt a hot shame flush my face.

If we doctors ignored our judgement skills and refused to take action on something as simple and clear cut as this, then what use was our medical education, our long hours of burning the midnight oil to study for the exams and vivas that we rejoiced so much on clearing, the Hippocratic Oath we had taken such great pride in reading on graduation day?
What use was a medical degree if it enabled us to save a life and we still refused to save it?
My chain of thoughts was interrupted by the sudden grunting sounds coming from Gangaram.Even in his sleep, his wheezing could not be ignored---a sure sign of respiratory distress.
His rapid breathing, chest retractions, weak appearance screamed of his ailing condition, albeit in silence.

As i saw the woman fold her hands and shed tears in front of me, a surge of anger came over me---anger at the hypocrisy...anger at the injustice...anger at the politics...anger at the indifference.

Leaving a baffled Ankita alone to deal with the patients, i rushed back to the ICU.
Some things could not wait.

"Mr Dessai, can i come in?"
It was 5 am in the morning.A sleepy Mr Dessai mumbled a lazy 'good morning doctor' and shifted his posture from one arm to another.
I went inside and switched on all the lights in the room.By this time, he was fully awake and covering his eyes to accustom himself to the sudden brightness in the otherwise dimly lit room.

"Look Mr Dessai" i continued, "this is a Government hospital and the first duty of a Government hospital is to treat patients who cannot afford treatment elsewhere.I am not saying that you don't deserve to be treated here..but the simple fact is that you do not require any treatment and you should be extremely happy about being so lucky."
He was now sitting upright and staring at me.I felt like a ghost and hoped that he was awake enough to comprehend what i was saying.

"There is a patient in ward 115 who needs critical care.He is a daily wages labourer on a construction site, has a wife and three children to support.
While your relative is constantly with his ear attached to the phone, his children are crying in the hospital corridors because they are starving.
There is an intern in that ward going crazy with the workload and still trying her best to make sure that all her patients there receive at least half the treatment they are actually supposed to be receiving, hoping against hope that her effort will be enough to keep them alive.

and do you know who is responsible for all this?"
He looked at me like a lost child now.

"YOU Dessai...its you." The bitterness had started to surface in my voice.

"You mean to say that I am responsible for all the people suffering in your ward? how many people do you think would fit in this room if I vacate it?" he snorted angrily.

I had to maintain my cool now.I reminded myself of the power this identity had over the authority and I still had 11 months of internship to finish.

"Well, you are a wise man.You should understand that its not of luxury or comfort that we are debating about.
One case of Falciparum Malaria, if admitted in the ICU can receive much better care and optimal monitoring than in the wards which has over 80 beds.In fact its not even about the private room or the air conditioner.
These comforts are of no significance to that mason or his family---all they want is to get out of here...get out of this hospital, so that he can start working again and feed his hungry children.
Unfortunately, for that he needs your help." my voice trailed off again.

Mr Dessai was quiet for a while.

"Watch it, Doctor. Do you know who you are talking to? One call to the dean and you could be interning in some Godforsaken rural place instead." he said, in a haughty tone as he pulled the plate of fruit near him.

It was true, i had gotten myself into a sticky situation.But by now i no longer cared.

In a firm and clear voice i said, "Very well sir.If that is what it takes to stand up for what you believe in, i don't mind that at all.
Because no matter where i am, that one family out there will never forget me for what i tried to do but could not...
and never forgive you for what you could have done but did not."

"These are VIP rooms.You cannot depend on these.As far as i know, they are opened up only when special people are admitted." he muttered.
I noticed his tone had sobered down.I was not going to give up now.It was true that the room was labelled as a VIP room and it was also true that someone who the authorities feared, was considered a VIP.
I had to come up with a satisfactory reply to convince him.

After a moments pause, i asked "Mister dessai, what does VIP mean?"

"Very Important Person" he answered with a quizzical expression wondering where this was leading.
"Exactly!! Now take a wild guess, between a patient with F.Malaria requiring blood transfusions and one admitted for a simple bout of treated diarrhoea, which according to you would be more important to treat?"
I smiled and continued "You mister dessai, might read this sign here as 'Very Important Person' but I as a doctor would always read it as 'Very Important Patient'.
The abbreviation is the same.But when used at a hospital, it changes meaning and that makes all the difference."

The chair creaked as i got up to leave.

"Have a good day" i said and walked to the door keeping my fingers crossed, hoping the man would have a change of heart.
But this time he did not say anything.

As i continued with the BP (Blood Pressure) check, sugar level monitoring and morning rounds, i noticed that the lights in mister dessai's room never went off...they stayed on, just like how i had left them.

Tired from the night's duty, i dragged my feet back to the hostel at around 8.30 in the morning.
It was lucky that our new time table gave us interns a day off after night calls---I silently blessed Vithal, the ward boy who had helped us make the duty time table.
I slept the whole morning and woke up right on time for lunch.

There were 3 missed calls from Ankita and one text message waiting to be opened.

I could not help but smile as i read the text.
It was from the ICU SR and it said, "Dessai agreed to the discharge--told me to thank you..Falciparum patient moved to ICU.Good job!"

...life as a doctor had just begun!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A special thanks to KFC and Indiblogger for the KFC gift voucher---a small excuse which stood testimony to a wonderful day out with friends.

The above post has been written for the contest 'Sets you on fire'organised by KFC on IndiBlogger.
If you liked reading this post, do vote for it here.

Cheers to faith,
cheers to life!!! :)

Moody 'water' colors...

Whispering clouds and thundering skies,
lightening dazzles the night so shy,
as I wander lonely on the street,
I notice people around me scurrying by...

The pitter-patter of these drops of rain
The scent of the earth much divine
The musical sway of leaves on trees
Wild flowers with a freshness that shines...

I meet a girl with olive skin,
with a smile that does not meet the eye,
a deep sadness she must harbour there,
her heart seems burdened by a lie...

In silence as I watch her restrain,
I wonder how she hides her pain,
and then it dawns on me--she is trying,
but in the rain, who can see her crying?

Next, I meet a man complaining,
who frets and sulks because its raining,
talks about the muck and mud,
like an angry cow chews cud...

I notice his shirt---its dirty now,
a car has splashed a puddle somehow,
his mood is foul, his anger fair,
it's raining, but he does not care...

As I walk by another lane,
I see a man with his lady love,
sheltering her from the lashing wind,
a match made by the heavens above...

Dancing and jumping mad with glee,
soaking wet and drenched insane,
I greet them, children of innocent age,
oblivious to worry or worldy gain...

Someone trying to hide his pain,
someone revealing his disdain,
sometimes a blessing, for some a bane,
it's a wave of magic---this January rain!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Writers note: There was a sudden downpour in my head, and as Henry Wadsworth Longfellow rightfully said, "The best thing one can do when its raining is to let it rain" ;)

cheers!!!

Hello 2012

♫ ♫ ♫ "Choti baaten...
Choti choti baaton ki hai yaadein bani,
Bhoole nahin beeti hui ek choti ghadi,
Janam janam se, aankhen bichaaye,
tere liye in rahon mein...♫ ♫

There are dreams from the past we wish we could just pick up and get into the present.
There are friendships cherished and tears shared.
There are stories lived and moments cherished.
There are realisations dawned and lessons valued.

No matter how far we move ahead, there are memories we might have to put behind us but can never let go...



Cheers to another round of 365 days.
Cheers to another chance at life.

CHEERS TO A HAPPY YEAR AHEAD! :)

Turn offs list #3---"there's something about facebook"

A friend who knows about my Facebook addiction a bit too well suggested that I write about the annoying aspects of the social network.

Now for those who do not know of this 'Turnoffs' series on 'Nostalgic Moments' , allow me to explain. Sometimes when we feel extremely important and haughty, we like to believe we are the Queen of May whom the world is trying extremely hard to please (for reasons unknown to anyone on the planet). It is times like these that we let our imagination run a little wilder and also complain and crib and nitpick about the things that put us off, all the while suffering from delusions of grandeur that there are millions of people out there reading us and treading on the path of self improvement while silently blessing us day in and out for our favor on mankind/woman kind alike.
Also when we have these bouts of excessive self confidence, we start addressing ourselves as 'We'. Sometimes we think it might be our borderline schizoid personality at work, but our personal shrink has disposed it off as just a case of attention deficit.
Of course we yelled out "Off with his head" to an invisible guard in an attempt to express our disappointment at his peasant like diagnosis, but he just proceeded to ignore and say that we are beginning to lack creativity and stealing lines from Lewis Caroll, thus bringing us falling from the throne, crown et al...sigh!

So after that little rant of madness we had up there, let us proceed with the point of the post (if there is any in the first place..or is there?)
Ahhh..yes, Facebook it is then!
*braces herself and counts one to ten*

Please don't get me wrong..though I'm quite often found to haunt Facebook much like the famous 'Betaal' was known to haunt the infamous Peepal tree, the truth is that nobody ever asked him what about the tree he did not approve..maybe a sofa here, a little clearing of extra leaves, a little chopping down some branches, a rosewood coffee table there..err! (you get the drift?)

So when I was asked what I would like to change about Facebook, I had just one thing to say (Yes, we are totally non-fussy like that)---"FACEBOOKERS"
Let me explain in point form what I find irritating about some Facebookers, so that you busy creatures who hardly frequent my blog nowadays and have accidently dropped by, sit up straight. Please know this is serious stuff and take notice.


1) Improper use of the 'like' option---Someone is burning with fever...someone has lost his car keys...someone just had a breakup and decided to update their status about it.
Facebook is their way of getting over it perhaps---GOOD!
You are not commenting nor asking them how it happened---BAD!
You are instead 'like'ing their status message---FUGLY!

2) Pics with self-distorted facial expressions---No! I'm not talking of bad photography skills or poor quality cams. I am talking about those 'I-am-so-kewl-I-dont-give-a-rats-arse-YO' wannabe's who deliberately put up a weird pic to show that they do not give a damn.
I often wonder if they have ever considered the possibility of people like me who believe that they actually put those up because they know they cant look better and want the world to think that they can....hmmmm.

So the next time you put up a pic with squinted eyeballs with a tongue sticking out on one side and a hairstyle which could give Einstein's fashion sense a run for his money, please continue---I YUM DIAGNOSING YOU!!! (with my shrink in tow)
On the flip side, portfolio pics have their own letdowns to offer. Such formal behavior scares us, you know. *goes and hides under the bed*

3) Food on Facebook---If it is something you have whipped up or a festive spread then that definitely is something you can be proud of.
But going to a restaurant and clicking pics of food and wine does not deserve any credit.In face in my opinion, going to a restaurant and clicking pics itself is a little strange. (Your family is going to thank me for this tip, trust me. I am saving them some major embarrassment.)
Of course updating them on Facebook (to top it, some do that with messy plates, half eaten stuff around...Sheesh!) is a total different blasphemy altogether.

The polite way (just in case it is actually so important to you) would be to do a photo session after a good meal-that way everyone would be in a great mood as well (depending on the company that you are of course) and you would be saved from the burning glares of the waiters who cant help wishing you make up your mind over the damn menu, gobble the chow and race back home, instead of delaying them over your petty Facebook pic issues.
Of course you'd never notice that---because their rage and pent up frustration would be cleverly masked behind the wide molar to molar smile as they would politely offer to click a pic (and get over with it).
After all, you can never tell if they spat in the fresh basil pesto you ordered...the smile would remain right till you leave the place.

That was me digressing--but you would never be offered that pearl of wisdom if it wasn't for that. *glows with pride*

As for food pics on Facebook, I think it's no big deal..so why act like you are someone coming straight from Somalia, new to those morsels of food all ecstatic over seeing it?
(pretty much like those tourists who click pics of cows on Indian roads)
but then again, it is sometimes fun to see someone fussing over things like that.but I wouldn't be caught dead being that someone.

4) Facebookshadi.com
This is what is done to those poor tortured souls who keep miles away from 'matrimonial aunties' and web based marriage services.Some distant relative or over enthusiastic kin is bound to direct people to the Facebook account of Ms/Mr Whosoever, and in will come emails requesting details and stuff.
I frankly fail to understand how much one can gather from a profile pic and a few lines written as bio data for a social network? I guess, society like God works in weird ways.
A still bigger turn off is the aunty-uncle clan who are on Facebook, mainly for the purpose of matchmaking.With no better thing to do, they befriend you---a harmless unsuspecting victim and then slowly but surely subject you to the torture of the apparently quintessential hypocritical 'saat-phere-saat-janam' concept they have in mind.

The best way to avoid these kinda friend requests is to put up the most ambiguous profile pics ever---better still would be pictures of a deserted beach or an eerie mountain place...or a cold winter (the more isolated the place, the better it is). You could alternate it with pictures of clumsy looking overweight toons like Winnie the Pooh, Garfield or a confused genius like Calvin---a sure shot to keep them away from your profile by implanting the seed of doubt that you are either too kiddish or too crazy for a compromised situation like an arranged marriage.

There you go---yours truly has a quick fix to it all! Tadaa!! (You are welcome)

5) Supposed-to-be-friends who play 'dead'
You keep thinking that the so called friend is extinct on social networks until you notice that he/she is commenting and scribbling on all other walls except yours.
Well, the same goes for unanswered wishes, greetings, text messages and emails---if I don't receive a reply, it's quite likely that you will never hear from me again.Not even the thought of you being run over by a bus or your Facebook account being magically hacked will surface to mind--no not even for a second.

I believe in giving explanations to people who matter and I need them as well...that is just who I  am...not even me can change that.

6) The 'Check out the rich me' attitude
Subtlety is an art, I say!
now maybe you can click a pic focusing on the bright red rose you are gifting your girlfriend while a hazy Lamborghini stays parked waiting for you two to get in---you get the drift?
your friends on Facebook are not visually impaired..they will notice the Lamborghini.but the trick is you are not shoving it in their face (which by the way my friend is very 'loser-ish' and a big turn off as opposed to the former tactful charm).
What happens in the former case is that you present an illusion---an illusion that the rose and the girl matters more than the Lamborghini. It's a different thing that you would rather get married to the latter if asked to choose, but at least your initial impression wouldn't be a let down and people (read 'me') won't think of you as an ass!

and with that, we rest our case...

7) Why doll up dolls?
One of my friends has this absolutely adorable 2 year old who she dolls up with loads of makeup.When i first saw her pics on Facebook, I was aghast. Each and every pic had a little bit of blush, lipstick, eye shadow, glitter and kohl.
Totally flummoxed, I called her up and asked her if she had used some Photoshop application on the pics, to which she laughed and said it was makeup she was using.
2 years old and makeup??? I screached into the phone..and she told me that she had entered her baby in a kiddo beauty pagent which had first started the obsession and then she had started finding it so extremely cute that she would doll her up every now and then.
she further told me not to take it so seriously and check out how many 'like's the pic had got.
The pic had a whooping number of 312 likes and 150 comments..most comments read out "Wowww" , "awesome" ," she's a total fashionista", "miss India" and the likes.not one had mentioned that she shouldn't have dolled up her baby like that.

I feebly clicked the 'like' option (out of fear that she did not take my lecturing the wrong way) and mentioned that she looked like an angel even without the makeup. It made me feel like a hypocrite 'like'ing something that was a total let down.

Kids are best when they are treated as kids.
We don't need kid-ults---let their innocence thrive!

8) Excessive pleasantries
You bitch behind my back---FUGLY!
You are still there on my Facebook friend list though we hardly comment, like or acknowledge each other---FUGLIER!
You *mwwwaah*, *kucchus*, *hugggggg* me and i almost die out of shock every single time---FUGLIEST!
Seriously, why this kolaveri di!!! :-|

To sum it up, there are days...there are people...and there are days with people on social networking sites.
Like every other things in life, Facebook too has its own set of 'good, bad and fugly' and like always we concentrate mostly on the blot on the canvas.(c'mon guys, this is the 'turn offs series'..what do you expect?)
You do know that everything I write should be taken in tequila style anyway---with a dash of salt, a slice of lime and all in one shot ;)

All in all, I sheepishly confess that despite all its flaws, I still am very much a fan of Facebook.



SEASONS GREETINGS EVERYONE!!! ;)

The treadmill called 'life'

It's funny how small day to day events can sometimes make you introspect about the deeper aspects of life. Well it's getting a little common with me nowadays though. Everything from non-laundered clothes to messy rooms have started showing signs of a deeper philosophy which prevents me from clearing or making any changes, lest the philosophy vanishes and I'm left with an ordinary, mediocre, non analytical bend mind---my explanation for what others might consider just an ultra lazy attitude of a chronic procrastinator.
err..its a different thing that not many buy my story..but nevertheless I'm sticking to it! *grins nervously*

Now without further digressing, let me narrate the life changing incident which brought about this sudden flash of brilliance.
*points to the halo of enlightenment on her head and goes into flashback mode*

Like any other bright and happy day, I was lazying around at home thinking of new ways of wasting time when I suddenly thought I should work out a little (with the festive season just around the corner, I would need to make space for the goodies I'm going to stuff myself with, or so I chided myself)
So with songs of yester years playing in my Ipod, I got lost in a sweet little dream world of my own when the tread mill I was working out on, suddenly came to a halt with a crazy (in-a-life-threatening-kinda-way) jolt!

As the whole world started reeling in front of my eyes, I somehow gained control of my self by clasping tightly onto the sidebars for dear life and stepped off it.phew!!!!!

Cursing the power failure that caused the sudden catastrophe, I tried to regain my normal composure--but in vain.
My heart rate felt like it was competing in a marathon..the color had drained off my face and in one small moment, I had experienced one of worst panic attacks of my life..

But then this incident left me pondering on it long after, and I couldn't help relating the whole episode to life.

Life too is somewhat like a treadmill isn't it?

---You keep running and running exhausting yourself out. But at the end, you realize you are right where you started-full circle!

---The point of all the exercise (read 'effort') is not that its going to lead you somewhere, but that it is going to change you into a more fit and healthier individual..

---Sometimes there can be a sudden power failure, and if you are not equipped with a crisis-management-auto-power-setup, it is most likely that you suffer a sudden jolt just like I did..sigh!
Likewise, life also has a few rude surprises along the way.the challenge lies in facing them and then leaving them behind and moving on.

---If you start speeding up too quickly, it will only end up tiring you faster. The same logic holds true when you are ending your session.

---Warming up before a treadmill session always betters your capacity.your body needs to have an idea what you are preparing it for.
In life, we are not always guaranteed warm-ups. But when we are, we should make it a point never to miss them..Hope for the best and prepare for the worst!

----Last but not the least, the most striking similarity. Life just like the treadmill, does not give immediate results. Hence, patience and perseverance is the key.

Being human, we always crave for fast results. We give up a little too early if our unrealistic goals are not reached. The tread mill is a constant reminder that it's a long life and we got to keep going even though it might often seem that we are not getting anywhere..

At the end of it all, we are here to enjoy the workout and feel good about ourselves.

cheers and keep smiling!!! :)

Ae kaash chalte milke---a tribute to a legend...

...and the whole nation is deeply mourning the loss of one of the most priceless gems of Indian Cinema...

"Dev Anand died in a hotel in London on 3 December 2011 (4 December 2011 by Indian time) of a cardiac arrest" the headlines revealed, breaking the hearts of millions of fans all over the world.

As I shuffled between the innumerable melodies saved in my favorite folder, I could not help but fondly remember the sweet and charming face of the legend who lisped them.

Those who know me would think that SRK is my favorite Bollywood star. But only those who know me really well would be able to tell you that it has always been this man---this man from an whole different era, much much older to the one I'm living in, but nevertheless being able to make my heart skip a beat on watching him on the silver screen in his prime days...this man who with his silk smooth acting skills and charismatic attitude not just managed to be the heart throb of the 60s but also earn the respect of millions of fans all over with his never-say-die spirit and enthusiasm.

Dev Anand was and will always remain an inseparable part of Indian cinema. His passion for cinema and enthusiasm for life is indeed commendable. His exemplary performance in movies 'Guide', 'Johny mera naam', 'teen deviyaan', 'Jewel thief', 'heera panna', 'hare rama hare krishna' are unforgetable---this acting genius was someone who could move you to tears and light up passion with equal intensity.
His unique style allowed him to carry off the most bizarre of fashions (which included the 'scarf and hat' look of the 60's) with so much panache that it stuck on to his image and even now is fondly imitated by people paying tributes.

I had the opportunity to meet this man for a film festival a couple of years back.
What I saw in him was a very humble personality, soft spoken and down to earth, taking the time to exchange a word or two with each of his fans gathered there.

"Jo Mil Gaya Usi Ko Muqaddar Samajh Liya
Jo Kho Gaya Maein Usko Bhulata Chala Gaya"

As people flocked to get his his autobiography autographed, I stood at a corner quietly looking at his face...wrinkled, old, tired and yet somehow there still was an unsettling calm about it---the calm that comes not with awards and accolades but with the satisfaction of having led a life he was proud of.
On being addressed as the 'evergreen' Dev Saab by someone from the audience, he crinkled up his eyes and laughed.


When an interviewer asked him the percentage of honesty in his autobiography, he immediately answered with "It was tough. But before writing it, I had promised myself I would be 100% honest".
It was right then that I wanted to believe that man, with the charming smile, with the strange calm, with the soothing voice...the man who I had traveled back in time and fallen in love with.
On reaching home, I picked up 'Romancing with life' from my library, a book which I had put down to read another day, mainly because I always ended up YouTubing my collection of 'Dev Anand' songs instead. (Yea, you don't just listen to Dev Anand songs, you YouTube them!)

"Dhup thi nasib mein, to dhup men liya hai dam
Chandani mili to hum, chandani mein so liye"

But I had decided to know more about this man, and so I read into the journey of his life.
Written in a wonderfully honest and interestingly soulful way, I could then understand the reason for the satisfaction on his face---this man kept no secrets!

From then on, my respect and admiration for him grew much more.
I would google interviews just to hear him speak about the simple complexities of life.
His song "main zindagi ka saath" will always remain my all time favorite, the others being haunting melodies---like "hai sabse madhur woh geet", "kabhi khud pe kabhi haalat pe", "jeevan ke safar mein", romantic tunes---like "abhi na jaao", "phoolon ke rang se", "chhoodi nahi mera", "yeh raat yeh chand", "accha jee main haari" and countless other tracks.

Even though I personally admire his acting qualities much more than his directorial abilities, I cannot help but admire this one man who ventured without the fear of getting lost...who stumbled but never fell...who kept on going his way no matter what others said...who lived as per his own terms.
A legend who romanced with life and loved it to the fullest.

"ae kaash chalte milke,
ye teen raahi dil ke,
chand aur main aur tu"

So let us travel back in time and express our fond admiration for this superstar who will stay 'evergreen' in our nostalgic moments for ever

We will miss you, Dev Saab...