Govinda gela re!

Photo Credit: DNA

Was meaning to write on Janmashtami quite earlier… or as us Mumbaikars fondly
call it “Govinda”… But a wedding got in the way! Here’s my take on it:




They piled
their faith or
the lack of it
onto trucks,
Volvo buses,
tempos, carts
and all things
with wheels.

Scores of ‘em
turned
foot soldiers
running riot
on the roads.

Several were
reborn ‘Rasta’farians,
draggin’ on ganja…
while others
downed cheap
beer holed up
in rickshaws.

Brandishing
flags of
mandals,
Shiva’s militia
and maha
rashtra’s
new architects
insignia;
the politics
of the festival
played out.

Human pyramids
rose and fell
faster than
real estate prices;
as new-age
maakhan chors,
clambered atop
each other.

The puny kid
came into
his own
as he
pussyfooted
his way
to the top;
head-butting
the handi
and bathing
in the deluge.

Spoils were up
for the taking;
money strung
on the pot
and five minutes
of TV coverage,
fame in the making.

The task done,
triumphant boys
revelled astride
their vehicles,
whistling,
jeering,
hissing at
women.

In the name
of religion,
libido
spilled
onto the
streets.

Premature Poems

Born before
their time,
severed,
pell-mell;
they were
diagnosed with
incomplete
rhyme.

When I saw
three Ganpatis
dancing on
one leg,
I turned believer,
not in God,
but in the phrase
teen tigda,
kaam bigda!

Poignancy
evaded me
when I
hunted for it.

In my
waking dream,
I let colourless
green ideas
sleep furiously.

On a blog,
it’s rudimentary
to give a
running
commentary
of your life.

Finishing the
unfinished
is an oxymoron.
There is always
something
more to be done.

It wasn’t even
my wedding,
yet, I was
turned into
a clothes horse.

Out of order.
Down for Maintenance.
Out for lunch.
Pain is good for art.

For my Amoma

Sprinting through
rice fields
in hot pursuit
of appopam taadis*,
free falling
in the puzha*,
pretend-eating
mann appams*,
pinching mangoes
to add
to the feast;
undulating
on the
banyan tree
uunyaal*,
racing across
the bridge as
a vallum*
passed
underneath,
feeling
the wind
tug at your
paavada*
and the rain
wash away
the chandana kuri*…

With mouth
wide open,
I drank in
the quaint
village scene.
A coconut-oil
head massage,
and a handful
of my
grandma’s yarns
is all it took
for me to pine for
a Kerala
I never knew.


For the uninitiated:
Appopam taadi literally translates to 'Grandfather's Beard' and means dandelions.
Puzha: River.
Mann appams: Appams are rice pancakes that are soft and spongy in the middle. Mann appams are mud pancakes that kids roleplay with in Kerala.
Uunyaal: Swing.
Vallum: Boat.
Paavada: Petticoat
Chandana kuri: A sandalwood tikka.

(This post was written under duress... for my sis wanted to usurp the computer from me. HELLLLLLLPPPPPPPP!)

Footsie

Koliwada prawns in the
fisherwoman’s tokri
were as stale as
her shriveled toes.

Worn-out bichhiya
became the
much-married behenji.

The six-year-old's
shocking pink shoes lit up,
just as she flashed
her mischievous grin.

Menacingly inching
its way,
graying capitalist’s
crocodile boots
moved in
for the kill.

Muscular contours
of the sporty shoe
stretched out
as sprightly teen
jumped onto train.

As stilettos dug
into her heel,
corporate bitch
decided to
fire her assistant.

Flag-selling
urchin lost
his sole chappal
whilst running
to avoid the
oncoming traffic.

Preoccupied on
cellphone,
college gal’s
flip flops stepped
into puddle.

…And I looked
down on all
from high ground
— my good ol’ platforms!

Aaata kya?

Jiggling breasts,
skin show,
cat calls,
once-overs,
groping
innuendos
and of course
salivating men,
My office is
an incognito
dance bar.

Keralafornia

Nostalgia, a yearning to get away seems to egg at me...

Guess I'll have to be content reminiscing through these pictures I took on a trip to Kerala some time back... Seems like years ago now. Am posting it now thanx to a friend who encouragingly said, "You enjoyed it then, now let some of us go there through those pics ." So here goes...

Testing The Backwaters



It Dawned On Me

 

Flowering Hoarding



Road Whizzes Past


Sari For Spoiling The Scenery



Shore Leave



Poster Perfect



A Watery Map of India



Bridge Over Water Way



Breezing Past A Tharavaad



Red Brick Univ



Adrift in Black & White



School's Out



Parallel Universe



My Dream Houseboat

This is what i feel like today!

FUCK: Fornication Under Consent of Kerala (churches)

My first thought when I saw this article titled 'Make love, says Kerala church' (http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/1874589.cms) was wats wrong with TOI… Why this preoccupation with procreation?
First they ran this hilarious story as an anchor yesterday about an 88-year-old who had just had a child by his third wife. Well, what was hilarious was how this toothless wonder was endorsing sex and stating to all and sundry including the mesmerised journo who penned the story that camel milk worked wonders for him and that life was futile if you didn’t bang your woman between 2 and 4 am daily… So, that’s what constitutes an interesting read now-a-days. (I’m sure the demand for camel milk has gone up from the time the paper hit the stands!)
And then I came across ‘Make love...’ on their online version…
Ok so, this is one horny ovulating paper going by the two articles commissioned. Not really! To be honest, I simply wanted to comment on the old man’s cheek… on second thoughts lets not go there anyway!
So this TOI story on Kerala churches urging all to ‘breed’ is actually a good read. Its about how the Catholic Church in Kerala has given out a call to all to go "back to basics" and have more babies if they are economically well-off. This spiritual advice on a worldly matter comes in the form of a pastoral letter, which would be read out in some 2,000 parishes in Kerala on Sunday.
I kinda would’ve loved to be at a Changanacherry church in my Sunday best when the pastor sermonised to all the devout congregated saying “go have babies and deliver yourselves out of sin”. Ever heard 100 jaws dropping at the same time… well, like I said it would be quite a sight!
Only, what sort of a solution is this? According to the article, the Major Archbishop of the Syro Malabar Church, Varkey Vithayathil, extols the sanctity of the institution of family and decries the modern "market mentality" of childless pleasure-seeking, which is the root cause of many social evils like drug-abuse, prostitution and violence. Market mentality of pleasure seeking?
What in heaven’s name is that? With all due respect to the bishop, I don’t think Catholics choosing not to have children are Beelzebub reincarnates or hedonistic heterosexuals.
For one thing, if a couple chooses not to have children it may be because they aren’t mentally prepared or would rather spend their time with each other. What’s wrong with that?
Though I do see a point to the Churches stand that there’s more of a grey population than a younger generation in Kerala… Gosh, I can vouch for that too… The last time I was there, every corner, every kavala (market) had more old geezers getting nostalgic about better times than I say “shit” in a day!
Still, no faith has any right to thrust a way of life on its people, especially if it is more so that the Catholic population wouldn’t diminish in due course of time.
Ok, coming to the amusing part… the pastoral appeal goes so far as to say, "The Encyclical of Pope Benedict XVI based on the words from St John epistle, 'God is Love', deals with the sanctity of sexuality. And the Pope likens sexuality as an exodus of man from the prison of his selfishness to a state of deliverance through self-giving… What?
After some researching, I found on the Vatican website this: True, eros tends to rise “in ecstasy” towards the Divine, to lead us beyond ourselves; yet for this very reason it calls for a path of ascent, renunciation, purification and healing…
Where does procreation feature in this virtuous scheme of things?

Bored to death

Its way beyond six,
there’s still no fix
on what we are
to do,
so I've indulged
myself in three
CNN quizzes.

According to one, I’ll go down in the history as the one who drowned in the sea of office politics?

Here’s an excerpt from my “What's Your EQ at Work? quiz”

My final score is: 70 out of 100
According to the CNN analysis: Emotional intelligence is not a fixed quantity. We expand it as we go through life. (Reallyyy………that’s reassuring.)
A score below 70 indicates a problem. (Phew…that was close!)
But don't despair: EQ is not unimprovable. (Sure if there was a word like unimprovable maybe my EQ had sum hope…)
"Emotional intelligence can be learned, and in fact we are each building it, in varying degrees, throughout life. It's sometimes called maturity," says Daniel Goleman, author of Working With Emotional Intelligence (Bantam, $25.95).
(So, I guess I’m about $25.95 away from reviving my emotional quotient… Maybe I’ll have the money to buy the book after all… Guess a call centre job in the day would suffice… Even if I went missing from work, they’d only look for me by nightfall…)

Annie, my trusted agony aunt, did pitch in with a brief interlude of humour….

This is a question a lost soul like me put to her...

What do I say to my boss, and anyone else who asks, about why I am ducking out of the office for an hour or two? I'm really going on job interviews, but must I say so? I don't want to lie, but the truth would probably count against me. -Old Scout

Dear Scout: If you absolutely can't schedule these interviews at lunchtime, or very early in the morning or late in the day (when your absence might be less conspicuous), you can always offer a vague explanation - "I have an important errand to run," or "I have a few things to attend to. I'll be back by 4." As longtime readers of this column know, I never recommend lying. For the record, though, people often do fib about this. A recent poll by recruiters Korn/Ferry International found that 27% of job seekers say they have a family- or child-related appointment to keep, and 23% say they're going to a doctor or dentist. The largest group, at 34%, said they "give no excuse and just sneak out." Why not try that?

Just sneak out… Hmmm… More than anything else, I’m tempted to do that! Coming back to the dilemma... But of course, everyone fibs… If you have made up your mind to make the switch, then you gotta ditch that goody-two-shoes pitch! Come on, are you telling me you can’t tell ze big boss with a straight face that “I think I’m gonna puke…or "my dog's water broke”...ok little over the top...but can-do! So, like I was saying...sure, you can fib, in fact, do it ad lib.

(Just checked.. I still don’t have anything to do! This stab at doing nothing isn’t doing anything for me)

The last… but more interestingly quirky quiz I gave was: Work and baby?
Apparently I’ll be successful in combining motherhood with a career (or even a job hunt!!! I supposedly can pull it off if I manage to get some tips from those who “have it all” and make some lifestyle changes!

How bored am I? Alter, get the damn mandrax quick…

Vex and the City

From wannabe Saki,
I've been
reduced
to depraved
desk jockey.

No,actually
it's more like:

Once an architect,
now a brick layer
I be,
what did I do
wrong...
beats me!!!?

So here’s my
ramble
on the new
gamble
that I call
the city
desk..

"Madamezee"
who would
rather
be called Nosh,
obsesses over
her scraps and
everything
else is
pish tosh!

Leggy is
betrothed
to her
engagements.

Foot in mouth
has a
exclamation
that rivals
my own.

If it wasn't
for Chelna's
south Mumbai
delights
— cheese straws
and scrumptious
potato sandwiches
alike —
our frustration
won't be fed :)

Mr Sub-well
smiles through
editing mistakes..
But neva let's
one forget
that a little
more attention
is all it takes.

The others
I still
haven't sized
up yet...
Will surely
have interesting
quirks, I bet!

Nonetheless,
as zeboss
put it,
what are we
but "bakras",
spoonfed
synonymous,
in this
Mumbai
Anonymous.

Whoever thot there was a blogging personality...?

An innocent bystander touted this and I was sold... Try this out

And it rained...

The acquired
accent drawled
a lazy “Good
morning.”

The train
sprayed me
with where
it had been.

The rain whipped
some sense
into the children
hanging out
of the train.

Lech,
how much
will you stretch
your imagination.

Ruthless rain
turned the
left-wing newspaper
into pulp.

Slow motion
train drove
the commuters
insane.

The windows
did a jig
and the handles
tangoed
in this rocking
musical.

I went
for a swim
with the
whole of
Mumbai.

Drenched
to the bone,
I was quite
a sight;
fools
pitied
my plight.

Only, I
revelled
in this
long overdue
dip,
savouring
the rain
and biting
my lip.

Epilogue

On a three-day
vacation,
I sorted
out my life.

Met a
memory
pressed into
a book
ages ago.

As I washed
the past off
my hands,
I didn’t
regret.

Folding
expectations
away,
I ironed
reality.

Savouring
the quiet,
I climaxed
on silence.

On the road

Snatches of
conversations
walked past me
in the crowd.

Seems like
half of
my life
has been
spent in
rickshaws…
The other half
has been
squandered in
taxis;)

I thought
how to
make it
perfect
and
spoilt it.

Ganpati bappa
looked on
helplessly
at the
road rage.

The pot-bellied
God’s silent
prayer to
stop the honking
went unanswered.

Even God
was left behind
when the signal
turned green.

The magic word:
"Sale" dangerously
lured the shopaholic.

My massaged hair
misbehaved
in the wind.

Nerd sneaked
a peek
at the
off-shoulder.

Where are
those legs
going today,
wondered
rickshaw driver.

Four...

Fake smiles
peeped out
of a
photograph.

The wind lifted
her hair off
her shoulders.

Mumbai minute
passed by on
a speeding bus.

Trapped
in the TV,
he forgot
how to think.

Things I’ve learnt thanx to my new “profile”:

1. Padded Brassieres:

They aren’t those thingammies that simulate fuller Simon and Garfunkels for ‘em gals accidentally blessed with …well, 3dimensionally-challenged breasts. Instead, in the newsroom this term (surely created by a male chauvinist swine trying to make a dig at the archetypal woman who pleases ‘man’kind with her voluptuousness) refers to stories that are 99 per cent faff and 1 per cent news.
Ironic, that I didn’t find the reference funny… maybe it had something to do with the prurient look that followed it.

2. Mandrax:
Not to be confused with its bacterial cousin Anthrax, is the name of a barbiturate type sedative drug called methaqualone which was commonly prescribed as a sleeping pill by doctors in the 1960s and 1970s. Both medical and non-medical use led to many fatal overdoses and the drug was withdrawn in the 1980s. In other words, it was a habit-forming drug used as a sedative and hypnotic.
So, does anyone know where I can get my hands on some? ;)

3. Cute:
He who checks out his wife is damn sweet.

4. Sigh!
I miss being the darling of an all-men desk… :)

I‘ve been…

Hung out to dry in the rain.

Left wounded among the vultures.

Buried alive in the valley of the dead.

But,
I guess I’ll die another day…

Contretemps \KAHN-truh-tahn\, noun
An inopportune
or embarrassing situation
or event; a hitch...
was Dictionary.com’s
word for the day.
Couldn't put my
predicament more aptly.

Vain

The wind waged
a war with
the window…
Banging incessantly
at the glass panes;
leisurely at first
and gradually
building up to
a violent tempo,
in its bid
to get in…
It yearned,
seeked,
clamoured
to envelope
the space within.
But it wasn’t
meant to be;
for what was
without
wasn’t welcome…
instead,
it was feared
and shut out.

Uprooted

As usual, I’m the “sitting duck.”

New boss. Another desk. High drama.

What I’ll miss due to this:

My walking in at hmmm… 6!

Crazy Frog and Anshuman’s frantic antics.

Kala Ghoda & Nautanki’s mesmerising melo-“drama”.

Deep’s piece de resistance, his Gossipnama.

Sexual innuendos flying thick and fast.

Debates on Bongs, bangs and busts…

Maoist inclinations, reservation and perpetual politics.

Being across my gang at International.

Having an ever-smiling and uncomplicated boss.

Ergo, it ain’t a win-win loss!