Ravishing (?) Ravs

So many worthy and justifiable posts happening about the guys that 'rock'...namely Farhan Akhtar and Arjun Rampal. Yes, they're on my sweet-dish too; caramel coated, chocolate covered and rolled about in roasted almonds. Along with some other delectable pieces, like Johnny Depp and Hritik Roshan. A connoisseur's delight! (You hear a funny noise, you say? Oh! That's just me smacking my lips in true vixen style!)
Anyway, the Man I Married has been watching me express my not-so-subtle interest in all the man candy with emotions ranging from disdain to derision, from to HAHAHOHOHEHE to hohum. The smiles on his face have essayed many roles too. Let's see...there's been the Snotty Sneer, the Sardonic Grin, the Stupid Smirk and, oh yes, the Grumpy Grimace. Sometimes, Sarcastic Snorts and Mocking Laughter make an appearance, but only if my declarations of unbridled ardour seem especially outrageous to the MIM.

All these various smiles and guffaws have made their appearance in our marital existence and played their part really well, ever since I let slip to the MIM that Johnny Depp and I were spiritual soulmates in another lifetime. I think I also may have mentioned the fact that in another birth, I was Hritik Roshan dancing muse.

Yes, I have also had opportunity to mock, grin and sneer in all these years of wedlock as well. A certain someone by the name of Raveena Tandon has been the object of devoted affection for my husband. But ever since she's fallen off the map of Bollywood, my samples of jests, jokes and jibes have been gathering dust amongst a pile of other unused or dormant feelings and expressions.

I had resigned myself to this fact since it seemed like it would be a while before anybody else could ever be spectacular enough for my sweetie, when two nights ago, we were watching a news channel and suddenly, there she was! The Raveena herself, looking rather remarkable and quite living up to her moniker of Ravishing Ravs.

Immediately, the MIM's back straigtened, his eyes unglazed themselves ("All the better to ogle her with Grandmaa!") and his hand went up to his head to straighten his hair...in the remote chance that she had somehow acquired bionic vision that would enable her to zoom through the satellitosphere and settle on this ardent suitor of hers, clad in tattered tee and shabby shorts, but hair firmly in place. Who knows, maybe that one little detail, the not-a-hair-out-of-place-even-though-it's-time-for-bed detail, might be the deal-clincher in the MIM's favour. And a smile that hadn't seen the light of TV glare and felt the evening stubble of the MIM's facial landscape in eons, suddenly made its appearance...the Drooly Doggy Style, oops! I mean Smile...hehehe!

I felt the beginnings of Snotty Sneer twist the corners of my mouth. As the interview progressed, the Sneer, long unpractised yet not forgotten and therefore comfortably familiar, settled itself happily on my face. But soon, the Sneer made way for Open-Mouthed Outrage. I glanced over at hubby and noticed that the Drooly Doggy Smile had become a Perplexed Pucker.

She was so mean! No, no! Mean is nice, compared to how she was behaving! She was rude, condescending, loud (as in volume-wise) and down-right nasty! The journalist (I don't know who it was, she was off camera and I didn't catch her name), asked her a series of questions (silly questions, I admit) of the "Who is an over-rated actor?" kind, in rapid fire style. She answered all of them, but her attitude was obnoxious!

And from the baffled look in the MIM's eyes, I could tell he thought so too. I even said as much.

Ever the loyal admirer, he rose to vociferously yet ineffectually defend her.

I welcomed the Sardonic Grin on my face and noted that she had brought Gusty Guffaw along with her for the sheer pleasure of mocking the besotted, bespectacled, boyishly-behaving MIM!

I love it when tables turn, whirl and salsa!

Bad Mummas Anonymous

She was new. You could tell. She sat amongst the ring of women looking scared and teary-eyed. She caught a couple of women trying to catch her eye and when they saw her looking at them, they gave her a sympathetic smile. Could they hear her heart playing drum riff too? Why couldn't it calm down and stop knocking against her ribs? At this rate, a few were bound to break!

Finally, it started. A kind-looking, grandmotherly woman stood up and said, "Welcome to our September meeting. We have a new sister amonst us and let's all give her some encouragement. Stand up M4, and tell us your story."

The woman gulped a few times before finally standing up on wobbly legs. She took a deep breath. She was here, wasn't she? She had confronted her inner demons and now it was time to face her fears. She looked up. The circle of women all looked at her expectantly, kindly, non-judgementally. Most of them were either in their late-twenties or early-thirties and she recognised the similar looks of pain, etched against their mouths, the looks of guilt and remorse lined about their eyes. There were some slighly older women there, who looked more relaxed and content with themselves. Maybe they had all completed the program and had learnt to forgive themselves, but they still attended the meetings to keep their faith and cool intact while keeping the guilt at bay. Then they were at a place in their lives and minds, where she wanted to be. And she knew the first step towards that was to open up. She knew she had to get it off her chest, so she started.

" Hhh--elll-lllo", she stammered to a start. My name is Mamma Mia Me A Mamma. M4."

"Hello M4", the group welcomed her.

She took a fresh gulp of air which nearly choked her as it collided with the words that came tumbling out..."And I'm a Bad Mumma. I neglect my second son so that I can spend time with my first!" And she looked at her wacky, purplish-painted toe nails. The colour made her think of a bruised heart and two soulful eyes belonging to a curly-haired imp. The reason she was here.

She was waiting for the rotten eggs, putrid tomatoes and smelly shoes, or some boos and name-calling at least. Nothing, She looked at the gathering through lowered lashes. Everyone was nodding sympathetically, knowingly. Ok. So she could get through this after all.

" Yesterday, I decided to take my elder son out for an afternoon movie, the new one that had been released last Friday, WALL-E. I normally take him on Saturdays, but we all had plans that day, so we couldn't go then." She realised she was garbling, but she knew she had to get the words out. "Well, a friend of mine and I hadn't met in a long time and I hadn't seen her new baby in ages. In fact, I saw him once, when he had just come home from the hospital and that was over three months ago, so she invited us over for lunch, saying that it had been ages! I agreed and asked her whether she and her elder son would like to go for the movie with us after lunch. She readily agreed. I was really happy! I love going for movies, especially with friends and family and most of all with my son. Tthe happiness on his face is indescribable. The best part was, that when he left for school, I didn't tell him our plans for the day. It was all going to be a surprise. And I had this big goofy grin on my face thinking about the big goofy grin that would soon be on his face when we would pull up in front of his friend's house just a couple of hours later! Then I suddenly realised. I would be away from home from 11a.m. to 7 in the evening!! Eight hours! Away from, aawwway fffrom, frommmm..." She couldn't continue. She felt the tears start to flood her eyes and voice. She noticed some of the women had their eyes closes at memories of their own. Some were dabbing the corners of their eyes with their hankies. Some were looking fixedly at their twiddling fingers.

The kind looking woman who had asked her to share her pain, gave her some gentle encouragement. "It's ok. You can do it. You can say it. Go on now dear. We all know and understand'

"My, mmmy second-born!!", she wailed. "And he didn't even understand. My baby loves to go out! He looks forward to it the whole day! But I couldn't take him for a movie. He's not old enough yet. But still, that didn't stop his mamma from making plans that were going to keep her and his elder brother away from him for virtually the entire day. He just followed her around with his happy face all morning, dancing, being cute, repeating new words and phrases. Just being adorable and loving...the way he naturally is. When it was time for me to leave he sweetly asked me, "Mamma, dada ante jacho?", which means, 'Mamma, are going to fetch dada (back home...not said, but implied)'. I said yes, picked him up for a quick cuddle and kiss and left. His endless stream of 'Bye Mammas' followed me all the way down the lift. As the car pulled out of the garage, I looked up at the balcony and what should I see, but my little one with his face pressed against the grills and turned slightly upwards so that he could fit hit chin and nope through the gap, his little hands clutching onto a grill on either side of him. His eyes were following the precise movements of the car. I rolled down a window and started yelling my head off, 'Bye baby! My sweetheart! I love you! Byyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeee!' Nothing. No bye, no wave, no flying kiss. He just looked at me soulfully, like a monkey put in a cage at the zoo. And just as the car was about to disappear...I noticed that a little hand went up...and waved!"

And remembering the image from the day before, she started sobbing as if her heart would break!

Showing-Off the Blues...

So after the MIM and walked into my Ma-Janoni's place (yes, we're still here and the carpenters are still there!), he went to kiss our sleeping muppets, and then he unpacked, changed and we sat down for some unwind time in front of the TV. My parents left us alone so that we could chat and catch up.

The MIM and I always 'watch' TV together at night. I usually have my laptop open and he surfs mindlessly from channel to channel searching for something to hold his attention. It's his way of destressing, so I don't interfere much.

Anyway, last night, I decided to keep the laptop shut and concentrate on my sweetie instead. I sat down next to him, got comfortable, put my feet up on the coffee table, did some foot rotation and wiggled my toes. Then I sighed. Loudly.

No reaction.

So I cleared my throat. Loudly.

Still nothing.

I coughed. Loudly.

Zip! Zilch! Nada!

So I put snuggled up next to him and he absent-mindedly patted me on the head, without breaking his zombiefied eye-contact with the TV set.

Finally, I had to say it, "You haven't noticed my wild and wacky toe-polish, have you? It's sparkly, witch blue, for cying out loud, how could you not notice?"

The MIM had the grace to look sheepish, but then when he actually saw the colour, he looked horrified!

Ahh, men!

From Burping to 'Shararat-karo'ing

Have you seen the new Tata Sky ad? The one with Aamir Khan in it? Where he's got this ardhnari-maanav thing going on.


Now, I love Aamir Khan. He's one of my all time favourite actors. He's my Tom Hanks of Bollywod. 'Lagaan', 'Dil Chahta Hai' and 'Taare Zameen Par' are cinematic delights. 'QSQT' caused my heart to skip a beat or two, even 'Mangal Pandey' was paisa vasool.

However, my all-time favourite Aamir Khan oeuvres are his Coke ads...the ones where he puts on the skin of different Indian stereotypes and entices us to guzzle my favourite black bubbly. I love them all so much, I wish they would air again and never be taken off! He got them all so spot-on and each one was hilarious! My personal fave? Oh, undoubtedly the Nepali tour guide! Perfection indeed!

And then of course he burped. On TV. As a server on a train who doesn't miss an opporunity to swig back some Coco-Cola during a 2 second sojourn through a dark tunnel...an idea many other passengers also seem to have had. Now, logic defies how so people can lap up a quarter bottle of a cold drink in two seconds without their hands oing the bumpity-bump in the dark. But this is TV land and we all do tend to suspend our disbelief. Now, who could the Coke-chor be? Twenty odd burps from Indians of various communities, backgrounds and creeds are supposed to give us the answer to that one. There's supposed to be a nationalistic message hiding behind all the collective burping somewhere. Apparently, no matter which part of the country we're from and on which rung of the social ladder we belong too, we all steal a sip of Coke in the dark and we think nothing of holding a burp fest in a train compartment!

And so he burped! On TV.

And now this. A half-man, half-woman Punju concoction fighting over Tata Sky. Where he makes out with himself.

Please AK...stick to the movies, or at least get better ads created for you!

To the Airport and Back

Yesterday, the Man I Married came back home after a five-days-four-nights trip to Bombay. He's been away quite a bit. The weekend before, he was in Puri and then too, it was for five-and-four. So that means, we only really got him last week for two whole days, Wednesday and Thursday. Actually, cancel that. His office got him for two whole days, while the rest of us for a few hours pre and post snooze time.

The MIM doesn't travel much. In fact, he doesn't travel at all. Maybe a day-trip every now and then where he's back by nightfall, but believe me, even those are few and far between. There are times I actually wish the MIM had business trips taking him away for a couple of days a month!

Anyway, after ages, and I literally mean ages, like three years or thereabouts, I had the opportunity to go alone to the airport to pick-up my man. And it was wonderful! The hour-long drive to the airport at night was lovely. I have always had this thing for night-drives...goes way back to my childhood. I love watching the twinkling lights of a big city. I may suddenly focus on a single light coming from an apartment somewhere and I am suddenly filled with this curious desire to know about the family that lives there; how many people there are, who does what for a living, their names, their joys, their sorrows... I know I'm strange at times, but I do wonder! How great it must be to be a God or Goddess and just know. To know everything and everyone. They have the Third Eye, probably a super-powerful, high-magnifying, ultra-modern, ultra-everything telescope, Infinite Wisdom and I'm pretty sure that They don't need Google Earth.

So as I was saying, the journey to the airport was one of the best kinds possible...relaxing and full of whimsy. Stray thoughts sauntered into my head and stayed for a while, before flying out through an eardrum and making way for others to whirl about.

I got to the airport with 25 minutes to spare, so I bought myself a ticket to go and sit in the arrivals lounge. With a steaming, hot, wonderfully aromatic elaichi chai from the Nescafe booth in one hand and Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan's "You Are Here" in the other, I made myself comfortable and looked forward to delving into the whines and epiphanies of 25 year-old Arshi. Except I found that I couldn't concentrate on the book. After reading the same three words for the fiftieth time, I decided to shut the book and let my gaze and attention wander instead. I looked at the faces of those waiting for their loved ones, their expressions and I wondered about the thoughts lurking about in their heads. I looked at this adorable brother-sister duo munching away on their chips and my heart flew to my EO and YO, so I made a quick call to Ma-Janoni to find out if the EO was asleep yet and whether the YO had had his dinner yet. After two affirmatives, I went back to my idle sport of people-watching. A striking-looking mother and her attractive late-teens-early-twenties daughter came and sat down right next to me. The daughter bit into a crusty, warm patty and the aroma seemed to invade my nostrils and trickle down to the pit of my stomach. Probably not the yummiest thing in the world and very frankly, not my favourite thing to eat either, but at that point in time, it smelled down-right delicious. I can happily say that I did not cave into temptation and get myself one. Oooh I am proud of my will-power!

I then saw the announcement board flash the green lights next to MIM's flight number and the letters quickly swiched from 'EXPECTED' to 'ARRIVED'. I waited for five minutes, got up and walked over to the steel 'fence' separating the passengers from their families. A not-very-young-but-definitely-not-old woman walked up to her husband?/boyfriend?/lover? who fondly told her that he couldn't recognise her because she looked like a teenager. I glanced over at her face and it was a joy to behold! I then turned my attention towards the stream of passengers heading my way, searching for one special person in particular. And then I saw him at exactly the same moment his eyes spotted me. He our gaze met, held and we smiled. I actually forgot to breathe for some time, because he was looking so handsome. Then he came closer and I say that he was also looking very, very tired.

But his smile said it all. Not that he was glad to be back in his beloved Calcutta. Not that he had missed his babies more than words could express. Not that he was looking forward to meeting his parents and brother after his trip. All that went without saying. But right then, at that moment, his smile was for me and me alone and it said that he was happy to see me there, waiting for him with a similar smile on my face.

Of Bookworms and Bookshops

Do you know where I love hanging out most in the world? (Oh alright! Besides snuggled between my two munchkins of course!) Bookshops!

They are my most favourite places in the whole wide world! No shop can ever be too big, or too small for me. I’ll elaborate on this point a bit later.

First of all, the why. And there are many becauses. The waiting-to-be-inhaled, soul filling, smell of books. The fragrance of ink, printing press and triumphant-joy emanating from a freshly published book. The brilliant mish-mash of colours. The unusual, sometimes beautiful and sometimes strange, titles that seem to call out to you with their different voices. The always-tempting blurbs that make you want to find an empty snatch of floor-space so that you can tuck your legs under you and start reading then and there. The satisfying feeling that you are in good-company…fellow readers, word lovers, spirits of dead authors, thoughts of the new ones, all right there, swirling around you.

When I am in such august company I experience either of two, distinct feelings. Either I am overwhelmed by the talent and genius that I am surrounded by, drowning in, gasping at and feel small and insignificant; or I am inspired enough to try my hand at it and I want to grab the opportunity, start searching the very core of me so that I may spill my guts and bleed my soul and write something of fantastic, take-your-breath-away proportions and I want to do it there and then!

But of course I can’t, I don’t. I come home and do either one of two things. I either start feeling stupid and silly at all my grandiose notions and so I shake my head, a little sadly, a little self-deprecatingly; or I sit down and reach for my notebook and start to churn out feeble poems which should never see the light of day!

Occasionally, when I do manage to write something that I would be more than proud to take credit of, I feel like showing off a bit. I do a little jig and I want to read it out immediately to someone. That feeling soon passes when I realize that there’s nobody I can call who cares enough, or is interested enough in poetry, to listen. So I switch that feeling off, and reread my newest poem for my hopefully sometime-to-be-published collection of poems.

Which brings me back to bookstores. I love to hang out in the poetry section, the children’s fiction section (the mythology segment especially) and amongst the Indian writing in English. Shows you my tastes, huh? Yes, it runs from the lyrical to the juvenile to the phantasmagorical to the happening. I spend time going through cookbooks, sometimes salivating and often storing a tip away in the corner of my mind. I leaf through the classics that I haven’t yet read but promised to myself that I will…eventually.

Yes, I’m a happy person in a bookstore. A free spirit in her element. It’s like a pub for me, where I can drown my sorrows in a tome of Eliot, or at least chuckle them away while admiring the whimsical drawings of Beatrix Potter.

In Bangalore, I used to love walking down M.G. Road, just so that I could pop into Gangaram’s…three floors of book-happy bliss! Another favourite was this tiny little shop, tucked away between other shops, looking dusty and innocuous, but full of precious treasures and an owner who knew just where to find what; Premier Book Shop. Soon opened Strand in Manipal Centre, and I loved the openness of the shop as mush as the openness of the always-there smile on the owner’s face. I left Bangalore before Crosswords opened on Residency Road and Landmark in Forum. Of course I visited both places and came back on full high.

Here in Calcutta, I was first introduced to Oxford, on Park Street and it still happens to by my favourite in the city. I used to go to Crosswords on Elgin Road but the staff there is rude, uninformed and unfriendly…yanking away from the whole experience and I so hate leaving a bookshop sad and disgruntled. The first Landmark, now of course renamed Starmark, is in Emami Building on Lord Sinha Road and it still rocks! I sort of feel lost there…but in a very, very satisfying and not-at-all frightening way. And the latest Starmark to open in South City Mall has the pleasure of my company at least twice a week. I just walk amongst the books as if they’re all my own, dear friends. There’s a new gigantic bookstore that’s opened recently, on Prince Anwar Shah Road, very near South City, and it’s called Odyssey…and I’m sure that’s what awaits me there! It’s big and huge and is calling out to me whenever I pass by. I’ve just managed a very quick stopover and I can truly say, I’m impressed!

So, now you know some of my favourite hangouts. What about yours?

Five Years Ago, Today

Exacly five years ago, today, I was still pregnant with my about-to-be first-born. I was nearing the end of my pregnancy and growing more and more excited with every passing minute. I just couldn't wait any longer to meet the little person that I had been growing, nurturing and sheltering like a tender sapling, a precious dream.

I was big (duh!!), but I was glowing! I could see it myself! Hormones, excitement, nervousness. Hmph! That wasn't it! I was surrounded by a halo of love and I could feel it's warmth seeping into my very bones, making me luminescent and radiant. In my adulthood, if I have ever been close to being, feeling, sacred and pure, it has to be without any doubts, during the last few weeks of pregnancy just before the birth and immediately after.

Five years ago! Really? That long? Sometimes it seems like yesterday. At other, more frightening times, it seems like another lifetime ago! How mind-shatteringly terrifying that feeling is! I don't want to forget! I don't want it to be so long ago, over and done with! I still want to bask in its aftermath, its glow, its essence.

Five years ago. Already.

Why so soon?