Showing posts with label Politics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Politics. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

The Image of Saffiyah Khan




First off let’s face it, this is straight up hilarious - this Chihuahua of a man nipping at the ankles of human decency. You can just about hear his ridiculous yelps (like our ruling party’s goons but with an accent) growing more and more hysterical as the mistress of bindi stares him down. “Should I swat him now?…Now?” I imagine her wondering which Louis Vuitton handbag he leaped out of. Bigot want a biscuit?

Look at her power stance – does she walk around like that, with her body angled for battle, her back ramrod straight, chest out, neck stretched, face relaxed yet ready to get into just about anybody’s face? Is this her normal life-condition*? I slouch, always have. That’s my normal life-condition. I have a weak core. My back is sick & tired of being sick & tired.

When I was 12 there were two Chihuahuas that would accost us on the way to our school bus stop. I remember being terrified in anticipation before I stepped out of my house. I’d pray they wouldn’t be let loose on the street that morning. If I saw them scurrying to get at our ankles, I would panic and slouch-run across the road. Maybe if I’d known, like Saffiyah does, that Chihuahuas live in handbags, I wouldn’t have been so afraid.

By her own account, when the image was taken, Saffiyah Khan was protecting another woman who’d been surrounded “360” by the same yelping thugs. Reports have interpreted Khan’s demeanour as ‘unfazed’. That’s bullshit if you ask me. She had to have been fazed, most fazed. You don’t get to stand like that if you haven’t been similarly fazed time & time & time again. You get to a point where the fucking Chihuahua has barked at you one too many times and you’re like fuck it, if it even bares its toothpicky teeth in the direction of your ankles, you'll swoop down, scoop it up and lob it into the stratosphere before its keepers realise that their dildo-themed pet has gone missing.

One might ask, why didn’t you swoop & scoop before? Why did you endure years of intimidation at the hands of these canine hobbits? Can’t speak for Saffiyah but when I was 12 they seemed bigger. Everyone at our bus stop was afraid of them, even the 16 year olds. Over years, they’d acquired mythic status and the stories had been handed down from seniors to juniors. ‘Did you know they bit so-and-so and they had to amputate his foot?’ ‘Their owner is a tantric yogi. His dogs have secret powers.’ (Ok that one I made up, such was the terror unleashed by these unleashed beasts.)



Obviously I don’t know what Saffiyah Khan is really thinking in these images but to me she has become the Monalisa of pussy power. She has run out of fucks to give and this fuck-deficit has allowed her insight into the Chihuahua’s handbag world. Sure it’s Vuitton (and that’s nothing to scoff at) but it is, at the end of the day, a dank handbag, made even danker by dwarf-dog sweat. Does Saffiyah Khan find this realisation amusing? Or did the Chihuahua pee in the bag just a little, its stench reaching everyone’s nostrils? Is that why Saffiyah is smiling? 

I’m no longer haunted by the Chihuahua twins from my school days but I have new challenges. The apartment where I live comes with neighbours, whom I would term ‘distinctly asshole-ish’. I realized this the day I moved, when the movers decided to use the elevator to transport a heavy sofa up two floors. My neighbour stood at the entrance of the elevator and threatened to let loose Jack – her 350 kilo vicious-looking dog. She knew the men were terrified of Jack, they’d asked her to keep him leashed. But she didn’t like ‘those men’ using ‘her lift’ and she let Jack loose. I slouch-stepped in and blocked Jack in a friendly embrace. Jack was confused. The men laughed. He jumped again. I slouched towards him again. This time Jack’s tail went insane, whiplashing his human-shaped asshole. She yelled “JACK! No!!”. I held out my hand. Jack held out his paw. We shook like adults who had no beef with each other. As we retreated to our corners, the men grinned and I thanked god that Jack didn’t live in a handbag.



Check out this beautiful Twitter thread:





* Incidentally, her stance has been described as an “improbably calm stance – smiling, slumped shoulders, hands in pockets” – I view the image very differently.

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

Kids Are Funny

Dear Amit Shah,

I want to tell you a funny thing that happened at this place where I work in Delhi. It's a small library and on Mondays I go in to hang out with the members (mostly kids between the ages of 4 and 18), help them check out books and every so often read books aloud to them and have chats.

Every Monday is funny, because kids are funny. Even when they're not trying to be. They have a funny way of observing the world that grown ups built. I'm convinced they've got a whole standup routine running in their heads about the absurdities they experience on a daily basis.

This Monday was no different. Actually it was. Half a world away, an angry man had opened fire on a nightclub full of people, overwhelmingly from the LGBTQ community. They were just there for a good time, but by the end of the night 50 of them didn't make it out alive. Because of that angry man with a gun. So we spoke about it, funny kids and grown ups.

Why do we fear the things we don't understand? What kind of responses do we have to the fear? Do we have a choice in how we respond? Do certain groups of people deserve to live more than others? The funny kids and grown ups decided to make a list of all the different kinds of people that are targets of hate, mockery, disrespect & oppression. The list was long and had all kinds of folks in it: weird shapes & sizes, weird skin colours, weird family names, weird ways of dressing, weird choices of romantic partners, weird ways of speaking, praying and eating food. Just weird, you know?

Finally, when the list was complete the grownups wondered: If we choose hatred as a response, what would happen to these groups?
Kids: They'll all be killed!
Grown ups: If they all disappear who'll be left?

***silence***
And then an unsure but gravely serious voice offered: "Mmmm...Modi?"


I told you, Amitbhai, kids are funny. You should come hang with us.

Love,
AS




 

Friday, May 16, 2014

An Optimist's Take on Election 2014

First off: Amit Shah, if you're surveilling, HI! Love what you've done with India. Totally amazeballs. Keep in touch, yeah?

It's the frenetic morning of election results in India and it's pretty clear that Gujarati Santa Claus is going to be our next PM, with the RSS finally in power (they tried with Vajpayee but he just wasn't that into them). 
It's going to be good for the oppressed Hindu right wing. Question is, will it be as good for us?
[By 'us', I mean people like me - with lady bits (or respect for people with lady bits), liberal views, sympathies for minorities & the marginalized and expectations of social reform along with economic development. In short: People who may not live the Hindu way.]

Here's my optimistic take on the matter: India is not the same apathetic country it was in the '90s or early 2000s and while the BJP/RSS may enjoy routing every other party, there are large sections of society that aren't going to sit quietly as they push their Big Balls patriarchal ideology on to us - however surreptitiously. The fact that the AAP has emerged in the last 2 years and that women are not as accepting of their second-class status as they once were, are two trends that suggest that this will not be smooth sailing for the right wing.

Let me get even more optimistic: There are going to be hairy moments in the next few years, where besides economic bonhomie, the RSS and its bretheren may be challenged to update themselves and their narrow world view. I would love to see how that unfolds and just for that reason, I might even be glad that Mr. Modi is now in power.

Inshallah, all will be well.

Or the government will succeed in numbing the vocal middle-classes with goodies and such, in which case: Hey Amit Shah, you're looking good. Have you lost weight?

Saturday, January 25, 2014

We Are All A Little Yo Yo

So this happened on Twitter last night:


Following which the gentleman tweeter faced a fair bit of ire from a section of the Indian female population on Twitter.

And that's where the politically correct part of this post ends.
*****

My first impression when I read the tweet was discomfort, like an itch you can't track the source of, that has you scratching the back of your left leg when the itchiness is being felt in your right ear.

So I stared at the tweet some more. This came to me:


We all know how problematic this is. I mean, I wish they'd just COMB THEIR HAIR!

So anyway, I thought some more.

*****

I have never been 'beautiful' (except in a Maya Angelou/ My Mama Thinks I'm Beautiful kinda way). Therefore, I have pretty much always cared.

I have always cared because I have seen the more beautiful girls get advantages I never could, in spite of my sparkling personality and dazzling wit.

(Sidebar: Conversly, because of my sparkling personality and dazzling wit, I have had advantages that beautiful girls haven't - like a chance for someone to get to know me, a chance to be appreciated for who I am rather than what I look like.)

Inside me, live two people (well...more...but I'm only bringing two to the table).
There is a 13yr old fat girl who is trying SO hard to be validated by men because everything she's ever been surrounded by has informed her that men have the final word in how she measures her worth. Sure, she will also learn that getting a good job and having her own independent thoughts makes her valuable, but by and large she's figured out that she is not quite 'right' unless a guy tells her so.

Sucks coz guys never really end up telling her so.

What they do say is: she's too fat, she's too dark, they wish she'd dress up better, show her cleavage off more, trim her eyebrows, show her cleavage off less, grow her hair, wax her moustache, join a gym, smoke less, be cool and share a smoke.

Of course, they are stating a preference and what kind of a world do we want to live in if we can't let a human being state a preference? Besides, us women appreciate beauty too, don't we?

http://media.santabanta.com/newsite/cinemascope/images/milind1_big.jpg  This Guy Vs. That Guy http://www.telegraphindia.com/1110621/images/20set-sada-(11).jpg

I digress.

Point is, I wish this preference would be just that: a preference in a world of infinite choices. Just an opinion. Unfortunately, the 13yr old fat girl living inside has come to understand it as a form of 'quality control'. In fact, it's all so messed up that she can no longer tell the difference between a preference and QC.

Now, this pisses the 34yr old woman off. She thinks: I'm not an object dammit. I'm not on some assembly line! My whole is bigger and more complex than the sum of my parts. And 'preference'? Like seriously? There's no such thing as a preference anymore. You can sugarcoat the opinions all you like, boys & girls, but it will always be a bit like saying: "It's just that I don't like when a Dalit drinks from my well. Am I stopping her from going to Venkatachallapthyrajulu's watering hole? Hell no! Am I telling her not to hydrate herself? Hell-er no!"

Here's my politics (which, as we all know, is always personal): A 13yr old confused fat girl, who's been dealt with cruelly a LOT. And a pissed off 34yr old who has no patience for anyone telling her what constitutes 'beautiful'.

Even if that definition of beautiful implies not caring about being beautiful: like piling on truckloads of 'natural' makeup to look like you just fell out of bed.

So here's my two cents, fellas. Perhaps there will be a time in the future where we will not be asked to take a magnifying glass to each definition of female beauty. But today is not that day.

And I know it sucks, but if you could, just take a hit. Take one for the team.

******

Also read: Dark Spots and Confessions for a more nuanced explanation of the itch I was trying to scratch.


Saturday, July 13, 2013

First, Listen


This is the remarkable speech given by Malala Yousafzai at the UN on her 16th birthday.
There are folks who are questioning whether she wrote the speech herself or whether she is merely a pawn in larger geo-political games.
To which, the best answer I read on the interwebz came from Overrated Outcast:

"So?"

In my humble opinion, it's very possible that this young woman will become a brand (well, she has already) or that her story could be exploited for base political agendas.

But to dismiss her message or the fact that she stands in front of an international gathering of world leaders, having survived a terrifying attack on her life and liberty and insinuate that she does so because she's too stupid to know better, makes you - yes even the Taliban-hating you - a shithead.

A shithead of the variety that cannot understand what wimmens with their tiny brains will ever be good for besides parroting someone else's words. Or what, if anything, they could achieve with an education or a platform to express themselves.
Oh wait...

Monday, March 25, 2013

Pretty Sure It's The Meds

This post is all whine and some crackers.

I'm having such a bad hair day, I'd say my hair is having a bad me day. 
I've been working for what feels like Mandela's stint on Robin Island and my only entertainment in forever has been getting up to go pee.
I have not left the house in 7 days.

I've been sick - as in, body being attacked by germs kind of sick. Or so I tell myself as I pop another pill while searching for an excuse not to bathe - offered to one of the many disinterested parties that inhabit my life. It's the kind of cloying season-change illness that has your skull feeling like it's trapped in a Phantom of the Opera mask with his singing voice echoing in your ears, even though you never bought a ticket to the show and frankly think that Andrew Lloyd Webber's finest ouevre was Roop Ki Rani Choron Ka Raja.

http://static.ibnlive.in.com/pix/slideshow/03-2010/best-action-based/Roop%20Ki%20Rani%20Choron%20ka%20Raja630x420.jpg


I have seen the entire second season of Girls in a single sitting and am now riddled with dreams of disembodied boobs playing table tennis (Wilson's, not Dunham's.). It's not entirely unpleasant and it sure beats that recurring dream of P. Chidambaram in his Don't-Call-It-A-Lungi-Or-The-Tamilian-Mafia-Will-Come-After-You.

In other news the Anti-Rape bill was passed in the Parliament. The news was received amidst lamentations & recriminations that Rahul Gandhi was absent for the vote (along with a sizeable chunk of the legislature. I think the only people who stayed to vote were the folks who fell asleep in the previous session and woke up in the middle of this one).
I've been trying hard to decide my feelings about all of this and have been in hiding from the droves of reporters, banging on my door, anxious to know my special thoughts.
On one hand, I'm relieved that something got passed - like a kidney stone.
On the other hand, I wonder if this anorexic version of the Justice Verma Committee report will make it difficult for anyone pushing for anything better - like constipation.

Every single day I get closer to menopause.

I read an essay by Frederick Douglass and saw 'Gone With The Wind' in the same day, which is an adventure sport I would recommend to anyone serious about understanding the 'Dalit Sich'.
Meanwhile, Chetan Bhagat managed to con another group of earnest filmmakers into elevating his book from toilet paper to That Film Where That Hot Guy Shouldn't Have Died. 

These are the moments when I wonder why I'm putting any effort into this existence. Then I remember I haven't bathed again today and feel better about it all. 
Besides, as Scarlett O Hara said: "Tomorrow is another day (and if the DMK is still in the news you can laugh at Delhi-based news anchors trying to pronounce Alagiri and Kanimozhi)."

http://www.newsreporter.in/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/Alagiri.png
Eiiiiiii. I said - Eiiiiiiii

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Notes From The Fringes

If you follow this blog then you know that over the last 2 months I have hovered around one of the many movements that have gained strength in the weeks following the Dec 16th gangrape.
I say 'hover' because I'm drawn time and again into a space I'm not sure I understand in its entirety. But still I go.
I go because I want to learn what women across this country are thinking.
I go because I want to learn what women across this country are feeling.
I go because I want to understand their, our, history of struggle.
I go because I want to appease the part of me that has suffered violence, harassment & injustice.
I go because I am curious about the men who turn up to watch.
I go because I am curious about the men who turn up to support.
I go because I am curious about the men who own these issues as their own.
I go because I want to add my voice to a movement that might get lost in the din of several other problems this country faces that are 'more critical' than women's issues.
I go to soak in the collective energy of a group of women, standing together, unapologetic about putting their needs at the top of this nation's to-do list.

So once again, some really rubbish photos and a brief description of proceedings as they unfolded on the 21st of February at Jantar Mantar in New Delhi. 

The 'People's Watch Over Parliament' was purposed towards reminding the Indian Parliament, on the first day of the Budget session, that they had a serious responsibility to discuss the Justice Verma Committee recommendations & rethink the hastily drafted anti-rape ordinance.
The idea of this gathering at Jantar Mantar was to stay put on the streets from 12 to 5pm. 
I was only there till 4:30 and don't know what happened after. 
But for most of the hours I participated in the 'sit-in' (with a sore bum to prove it) I heard many speeches & performances (music, poetry, dance, theatre). Here are some highlights.

************





Some sloganeering (from the Bekhauf Azaadi repertoire) to get the crowd pumped up, a musical performance & some hulchul near the stage (which later turns out to be Shabana Azmi) and things get underway.

Ranjana Kumari begins with a reality check. 35 years of experience in trying to push women's issues into the consciousness of our political machinery has taught us one thing, she says. 
It is not priority for this session of parliament to discuss the JVC recommendations or the ordinance. 

(This is a much needed reality check for those of us who are new to activist movements. In the past weeks we've had a corruption scandal, riots over price-rise and a series of terrorist attacks.  These are bound to get the attention of the House and national media before gender justice makes it to the floor. Us lot had better be mentally prepared for disappointment.) 

Some more music. 'O Ri Chiraiya' is a hot favourite and it won't be the last time we hear this song this afternoon. (The song actually grows on you if you dissociate it from the memory of Aamir Khan's Social-Cause-Game-Face.)

Next Binalakshmi Nepram speaks. She speaks of having just met with Irom Sharmila, who has a message for the protesters in Delhi: "Don't let my life become a drama." By this, Nepram explains, Sharmila means that the movement requires more investment from us than just appearing at protests and invoking her name.


She (Nepram) speaks of aligning movements from other parts of the country (like the northeast & Kashmir) with the Delhi one. She tells us how the AFSPA (instituted in 1958 in what was supposed to be a temporary provision for 3-6 months) has overstayed its welcome (to put it mildly) and how the women of states like Manipur, Nagaland and Kashmir have suffered in its shadow.
Her pitch goes up a notch and one can sense her deep frustration as she explains how opposing the AFSPA does not make the women of these regions 'anti-national'. 

(When activists like Nepram speak it's easy to see how women get the shorter end of every stick - be it communalism, casteism, regionalism, poverty you name it. And this is what places it at the top of India's 'to-do' list. I can't imagine the horror & humiliation of having to repeatedly prove your allegiance to the country in order to get social justice.)

Then, there is movement from the sides of the crowd. A high-energy group of young women dressed in grey & red descends upon the gathering. They occupy the area just in front of the stage. These are the ladies from Delhi University's Maitreyi College. 
And they go on to put up a gutsy, funny and no-hold-barred streetplay on India's dodgy relationship with its women.

This street play has a way of divesting patriarchial tropes of their power over our collective minds and presenting them stripped of logic. Of showing them up as jokes that everyone can laugh at. (There's a lesson in here for all of us who ask what good a campaign like 'Slutwalk' is.)

They use real ad campaign slogans, misogynist comments of political leaders, statements made by military & government spokespeople, quotes from Bollywood etc. Without twisting the actual words, they use their tone, body language and theatrics to say: ISN'T THIS BLOODY RIDICULOUS? It is right? Right.

(And suddenly these immovable traditions, this 'maryaada' we've unthinkingly accepted, loses meaning. I can tell you there were some men in the audience who were a sight to see. They would laugh because it was all so obviously funny but then they would stop and look confused. Then laugh again.)

Speaking of men, let me break the chronological telling of events and bring in Gautam Bhan, who directs his speech towards the men in the audience.

He's the Boy in the Brown Sweater (with mic)
He asks: Have the men, who've collected to support 'Bekhauf Azaadi' understood what it means and what their role in it is? Bekhauf Azaadi necessitates the shattering of patriarchal structures. It has implications not only for women but also men. 

He also addresses the dangerous notion of making sexual violence laws gender neutral in India. Gender neutrality may be sold as a means to achieving equality but it's a red herring. Unless the inequality in society is accounted for, it is more than likely that sexual violence laws will be used against women & men who are on the wrong side of the patriarchy debate.

He underscores the fact that feminism is not anti-men and us citizens can't afford to be divided on the basis of gender.

In my favourite bit from his speech, he says that protesting isn't enough. We must make the time & effort to understand the political nuances of what's being demanded, granted and debated over.

It's nearly 4pm. Lawyers have spoken, as have activists from groups working on dalit causes & human trafficking issues. One fellow called Vidrohi has recited 3 poems that I haven't quite understood. Kavita Krishnan gets up on stage.



She is an incredible orater, always able to draw in attention, no matter how distracted the crowds may be.
She speaks of 'naitikta' or morality and how it's used & abused to preserve patriarchal structures. (Apparently there's a Delhi Police banner outside all women's colleges in Delhi that lists out a series of 'dos and don'ts' that must be followed to be safe in the city. Apparently no such banner has popped up outside any other type of college.)

She tells the delightful tale of meeting Union Home Minister Sushil Shinde, who seems most foxed about what women really want. 
The way she tells it, I imagine him shaking his head sadly, looking hopeless yet secure in his knowledge that his people did everything they could do to protect women, by drafting an ordinance that no one asked for.
Krishnan talks about how she & other leaders attempted to explain their points of view. But what language do you use to explain your stand when the other person has already decided it for you (and isn't really interested)? 

And so she talks about the lack of seriousness accorded to issues affecting women. At its best relegated to 'not so critical'. At its worst, twisted into devious machinations of women, who've gained quite the reputation for being liars, manipulators and all-round troublemakers ('narak ka dwaar' is the phrase she used) throughout our mythology.

(Fun fact: In Urdu & Arabic speaking parts of the world the word 'Dajjalan' has been flung about. There is even a wikipedia page about it. Thanks @imsabbah)

Some of Us Jolly Narak Ka Dwaars



The crowd has grown in the past few hours. Some folks from a neighbouring protest ("We Want Gorkhaland!!") have spilled into this one. Chaiwaala, papadwaalas, chaatwaalas and vadaawaalas have started networking. One lone fellow from a 'rival' 16th December protest walks around forlornly sporting a 'Hang The Rapists' signboard (What's happening in that head of yours, sir? I'm curious but timid to ask.) The newsreporters have finally settled down. 
As the clock inches towards 4:30 pm, I get up to leave.

************
I don't know how the rest of the evening panned out. 
As for the pariament, there was buzz that the issues would be discussed the next day in the Rajya Sabha. But then the Hyderabad blasts happened so I don't know about that outcome either.

Saturday, January 26, 2013

Not A Protest March (and some badly taken photos)


It all started at the Mandi House metro station. 
A Freedom Parade to parallel the Republic Day parade that had just wrapped up down the road. 
That parade had had big guns, this parade had big ideals. The recently released Justice Verma Committee report needed to implemented. 
Unfortunately, the Home Ministry website seemed to have 'misplaced' it, which made it difficult for the government or political leaders to take action. So somebody had to point fingers...you know...in the right direction...



(Incidentally, if you're looking for the Justice Verma Committee report, lookey here! It's been found!!)


Of all the protest/ freedom marches I've ever been on, this had the best slogans. The theme of 'Bekhauf Azaadi' (Freedom Without Fear) was extended to:

Azaadi: Night or day, on deserted roads & crowded, at home and at work, with family or strangers etc.

Azaadi from: sexual violence, from the insensitivities of the police & politicians, from the nonsense of Asaram Bapu, Abhijeet Mukherjee, Botsa Satyanarayana and Mohan Bhagwat, from patriarchy, from a broken justice system etc.

Azaadi to: be born, to study, to roam freely, to have aspirations, to marry and (my personal favourite) to not marry.

There were strident calls for 'nyay' or justice for Delhi, Kashmir, Manipur, Gujarat, Chhatisgarh, Haryana etc. For each and every known & unknown victim of sexual violence - male or female, straight or gay or transgendered.

There was absolute clarity on the amount of tolerance for apathy & inaction: Zero.


The crowds were a mixed bag. 



From leading activists and Twitter celebs (not in image...what is this? Us Weekly?) to regular Joes and what Chetan Bhagat might call 'The Fours' (I don't know about 'taking them along' CB, they giggle a lot when they chant 'Azaadi!')



Time came to get moving from Mandi House to Jantar Mantar (Delhi's 'Outrage Central'). The crowds promised to be orderly but not everyone was convinced.



They needn't have worried. 
There was a strict single file policy when crossing vehicular traffic and an overall policy of not wanting to be pains-in-the-asses.



At Jantar Mantar, we were all asked to sit right down on the road. 



There were powerful speeches made - most memorably by Kavita Krishnan, who introduced us to each of the names on our posters, who had yet to recieve justice. Collectively, we acknowledged all the unknown victims of sexual violence (much like the 'Unknown Soldier' at whose memorial, the Indian PM placed a wreath every 26th January).



She briefed us on the salient points of the Justice Verma Committee report and asked all those gathered there to self-reflect and confront the patriarchical mindset, fear & insecurities (why does 'freedom for all' threaten so many of us?) that reside in all of us.

Then she emceed a delightful medal-giving ceremony for the 'Mardaangi Maryada' brigade (Asaram Bapu & co. who had distinguished themselves as the 'Balaadkaar Defence Team') proving that feminism could also be fun.



There were a few more speeches, poetry and singing before people began to disperse. 
It had been a peaceful public gathering - peaceful not just for the lack of lathis, water cannons or tear gas, but peaceful in discourse while being forceful in intent. As someone who had observed the steady disintegration of the anti-corruption movement into an anti-government one, I was gratified and extremely proud of this campaign.

Everyone there agreed that getting the people in high places to take the Verma Committee report seriously (or even just put it up on their website) would be a long haul. So there was a call to regroup the next month and the next and the next.

As the crowd slowly peeled off to return home, we passed another dharna. Hardly any women in the group but lots of fervour.
It called for justice.
It called for the 6 Delhi gangrape accused to be hanged (With trial? Without trial?).
It called for us to 'Follow on Facebook to Save our Sisters'.

And one couldn't help but go - Ah, democracy! Happy bloody Republic Day.





Saturday, December 8, 2012

Political Statement

Went for the South Asian Bands Festival at Purana Qila this evening. 
A special event organized by the Ministry of External Affairs, Government of India, bringing together musicians from all the SAARC countries.

Lovely music.
Slightly suspicious stage design:



Call me paranoid but there's something ominous about so many Indian flags gheraoing the other SAARC countries' flags.

Maybe I'm over-reacting. I mean, we aren't such bullies are we? ARE WE, BITCH?

Speaking of bullies: 2011's highlights showcased a superb heavy metal band from Myanmar. You have to wonder what they're rebelling against. I mean, Than Shwe did let them out of the country, didn't he?

And then there was this band from Mumbai going to town about smoking ganja, while the Hon'ble Minister for External Affairs sat in the audience, pondering which one of his babus sanctioned a band that yells "Blow YOURSELF UP!!!!" every 6 seconds.

Finally there was Noori from Pakistan. They are gorgeous, they did a kickass version of 'Eik Alif' without Saeen Zahoor and therefore no amount of cynicism will allow me to diss them.
Not even Ali Hamza, who seems to have the same stylist as Ajmal Kasab.



Oh Hamza, you crazy coot you....reminding us how much India & Pakistan have in common. 
If only we'd all just get along.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

My Father's Thoughts On FDI

 
Sushma Swaraj: "Will Wal-Mart care about the poor farmer’s sister’s wedding?" 

 
My Father: "Will Sushma Swaraj care about the poor farmer's sister's wedding?"

 
Sharad Yadav: "How will a man on a cycle go to Tesco?" 

 
My Father: "On a cycle." 

Thursday, November 8, 2012

Message To Boys Who Are Afraid

See? You don't need to be afraid of loving a smart, independent and liberated woman, who has your back.
If you play your cards right, things might turn out really, really well.
Barack & Michelle Sitting On A Tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G
(This photograph appeared on the front page of this morning's Hindustan Times. What a visual for us Indians to wake up to. What a visual to announce Obama's re-election as one of the world's most powerful men.)


Friday, October 19, 2012

Get A Better Argument


So I found this on Facebook, 'shared' nearly 44,000 times the last I checked.

Since Science is obviously a person, as is indicated by Gervais, I figure she must be weeping right now (because Science has feelings and is insecure and always needs to be one up on Religion - that pesky & incovenient cousin). She's probably distraught over how folks make such unscientific & simplistic arguments to defend her virtue (like arguments of Religion that folks use to defend the virtue of the ladies).

I can't be sure, but if Science were anything like me (and she's got to be, right?) she'd be wondering why these mullahs of Atheism forget this: the gun used to shoot the child in her head for wanting to go to school was created by Science, designed expressly for shooting at living things. In that sense, culpability - in varying degrees - lies with both parties.

Science doesn't like to be told things like this - especially when she's trying so hard to trump Religion using the platform of logic.

And because she knows there are plenty of great ones, she wishes these defenders of hers would get a better argument.

******************

Carl Sagan on Charlie Rose (at 7:45 he talks about religion): 

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Kya Picchar Hai, Baap!

Disclaimer: I am currently in the process of educating myself on the subject of social responsibility & the artist by googling 'Social Responsibility & The Artist'. Until then, below are my thoughts.
***********

A couple of years ago, I joined Bollywood in its outrage against then health minister, A. Ramadoss, who tried valiantly to get Indian courts to uphold a ban against showing smoking & drinking in films and on TV. I believed wholeheartedly in the idea that art's 'job' (if there is such a thing) is to reflect the world we live in, not tell the world how it should be. (I'm very allergic to the word 'should' and am currently on steroids to deal with the matter). A. Ramadoss became a joke, an object of revulsion even. He was The Man and we had to band together and fight against The Man.
Perhaps the fact that I enjoyed my whiskey & occassional smoke had something to do with this.

Then in the last few weeks, two film experiences made me do a full BJP-style, double-standard turnaround. Both films also came closely timed with horrible incidents of criminality that have outraged & horrified the general public. One film made me plain mad. The other made me confused.

The first was Cocktail, over which I have expressed great anguish on Twitter and this blog. First, and importantly, purely as a cinema goer, I was thoroughly bored by it. At one point in the film, someone got hit by a car, making it the only redeeming moment in a dull screenplay (that the victim did not die, was a severe disappointment). This complete disdain, then, facilitated my righteous rage about the stereotypes it perpetuated. At first, these stereotypes were simply annoying (read: Spot The Slut if you haven't already). But after the Guwahati incident, they went from being simply annoying to dangerous.
What took me from a state of being offended to scared was this: The film is marketed and packaged as a hip, young, cool & progressive story of love and friendship that is actually built on highly regressive values. Dressed up all nice and fancy, it's difficult to notice what a sexist, lecherous & frustrated douchebag Saif Ali Khan's character is or what a potentially powerful and moving character, Deepika Padukone's could've been in spite of being scantily clad. I saw an instant connect between the values exhibited in the film and the terrible acts committed in Guwahati. I'll admit, I wished the film had never been made.
Perhaps the fact that I hated the movie and not just its politics had something to do with this.

Last evening I watched 'The Dark Knight Rises' and from the first frame I was hooked. Purely, as a cinema goer, I thought the grammar & symmetry of how its characters, technology, writing, cinematography & editing came together made it a fantastic experience I wouldn't have wanted to miss. Then came the first big shootout scene and I looked away from the screen, towards the exit doors of the cinema hall. "Was this the scene, where Holmes came in on those unsuspecting people in Aurora?" I thought. I quickly banished the idea and turned back to the movie. But how does one turn back from that? How does one disregard the glamorously brandished automatic weapons in the scene, the sexiness of the deranged bad guy? Or not wonder if one is losing ones mind? 
What made me feel torn between the two states of exhiliration & morbid terror was this: The film skirted dangerously between fantasy & psycho-social reality (in fact all Nolan-directed Batman films do). I am used to comic superheroes being exaggerated characters in exaggerated situations (perhaps created as a reaction to prevalent social issues of their time...Who knows? That's my next topic to google.). When I walk away from George Clooney's Batman, it's simple for me to distinguish between him and the real people I meet in the world. 
But the Nolan films aren't content to remain in fantasy land - at least not psychologically, socially or politically. For me, the lines often got too blurry, too rapidly. Maniacal characters like Bane (and the Joker) weren't just comic villains - but people with subtexts & stories I could relate to all too easily. If I were just that much more insane than I am, would I have wanted to emulate them? So I'll admit, even though I enjoyed the film thoroughly, I wish it had never been made.

I still don't know where I stand on holding art responsible for triggering society's ills. Through all my ire at Cocktail or discomfort with The Dark Knight Rises, I have never called for curtailing the rights of either filmmaker to create what they want. If I have a serious issue with them, I would rather bitch, moan, blog, tweet and text all my friends not to see the films. The idea of blanket bans makes me uncomfortable, because so much of who I am today is informed by art that's considered dangerous by someone else. At the same time, I've experienced the double-standards of my own subjective impulses to accept one artistic piece as admirable and the other, not.
So am I looking to unleash my inner A. Ramadoss on anyone? Not any time soon.

But here's what niggles at me: Perhaps the fact that I'm neither that girl in Guwahati, nor an unfortunate victim trapped in a cinema hall in Aurora, has something to do with it. 

http://missioneuropakmartell.wordpress.com/2010/09/10/hate-crime-vs-art/
*******
Read also: Stupid For Art by Mark Mann

Saturday, December 10, 2011

The Test




The above video is a popular test to guage which parts of your brain you're most likely to employ in the course of your life. Take a look and note your responses. Now match them to the analysis below:

1. You can't tell which way the figure is turning: You have a minor disability that causes you to insist automobile drivers turn left, while you gesticulate frantically to the right. At best, you will be the butt of humilating jokes. At worst, you will be involved in a terrible car crash. Either way, insist on medical insurance.

2. You think the visual is incomplete without a dancing partner: You are ready for commitment but only if you give up the nasty habit of sobbing 'I'm going to DIE ALONE!!' into your pillow every night.  

3. You wonder what the figure looks like when not in silhouette: You are perpetually horny and frequently channelize your productive energies into abusing yourself. You have a bright future in the porn or banking industry but must reconcile to a future where no one wants to shake your hand.

5. You're glad the figure is swathed in black from head to toe: You are a misogynist i.e. lady-hater. Don't worry, this does not mean you're a boobies-&-cooch hater. You just wish they wouldn't express any thoughts, feelings or opinions and stopped serving you cold paranthas dammit.

6. The figure makes you dizzy: You're either stoned, low on blood sugar or need an MRI. You may not live too long or prosper much but you can always switch to watching this.

7. The video makes you mad. You want to kill all videos: You're probably a high-ranking official in the Indian government and enjoy using the word 'sentiments' frequently. Congratulations, you must be rich.

"My dong this long. How long your dong?" ~ Kapil Sibal, Hon'ble Minister of Communications & Information Technology, Government of India

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Really, people...Part IV: Look Ma, I'm Racist

Saw this in the papers today and thought - Wow! India has truly become a global superpower if it's beginning to exhibit classic signs of xenophobia in the mainstream:


http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/entertainment/bollywood/news-interviews/Btown-wants-a-ban-on-Hindi-dubbing-of-English-movies/articleshow/10415428.cms

Excerpt: Speaking to DT, Bhatt said, "There are similar apprehensions in Bollywood and everyone is planning to come together and fight this practice of Hollywood films being dubbed in Hindi or Tamil. We cannot allow them to have a right over our mother tongue and use it to their advantage just because they have the budget. Hollywood studios have big budgets for promotions and we can never match that. Hindi film producers are now planning to come together against this. Letters have been written to the I&B ministry secretary in the past also, and I can say with full certainty that something similar is on the cards now. We face similar issues in other states at times. For instance, I cannot get my movie dubbed in Bengali."

Hey Mahesh, here's a revolutionary thought - Let's make films that are less crap and maybe audiences will actually want to watch Bollywood rather than Hollywood films.

Yeah, that'll be Rs. 500. Come again.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Tag, I'm a F*&$%st!

Recently, I was challenged (on this blog & in other spaces) on where I stand in the 'battle' of gender equality. I was asked to pick sides - Was I a feminist or not? Last evening, grumbling & irritable at myself for not knowing how to answer this, I attempted an angry post part-blistering, part-petulant. 

It was horrid.

Then this morning, a rather charming blogger tagged me as part of IHM's 'My Sins Against Gender Stereotypes' thingamajig. I was to list out 10 things that I've done in my life which go against prevalent notions of gender roles. So here goes:

1. Am an absolute lover of gadgets & love unraveling the puzzles of technology.
2. Am enthused by physics.
3. Have done 'highway driving'.
4. I ask to be paid as much as my male colleagues.
5. I work the same shifts as male colleagues (periods or no periods).
6. I expect men to share housework duties.
7. I sometimes travel in autos after 10:30 pm, drunk. In New Delhi.
8. I have earned significantly more than the man I lusted after.
9. I refuse to marry just because I'm getting older.
10. I plan to take care of my parents as they grow older.

Where this list places me is irrelevant.
We're all stuck between shifting notions of gender roles, these days. The men are confused (does she want me to open doors for her, does she not?), the women are confused (do I support the banning of burqas or not?) I've never had a man block my upwardly mobile, professional aspirations but I've never worked in an office where sexual harassment did not creep in, in some form or the other.

Am I a feminist or not? Yes, I am. If being one supports an idea of freedom of choice, no matter the gender.
I feel equally outraged at the French ban on burqas as the Iranian laws that force women to wear them. I feel that those who commit heinous 'honour killings' are as trapped by skewed gender notions as the ones who were killed.
I find human trafficking abhorrent, yet don't agree with a blanket ban on prostitution.
I don't believe that rape is the worst thing that can happen to a woman.
I also believe that men are wonderful creatures, crucial to the cause of gender equality.

To me feminism is not about which side of the fence you're on. Because there is no fence. Never was.
To me, being a feminist, means bringing the feminine experience out of the closet. It is to talk, listen and to understand what a woman's world looks & feels like.

So don't be afraid of the word 'feminist'. Chances are, many of you rational thinking people already are one. You really don't have to roll your eyes every time a woman talks or writes about her unique experience as a female living in an unequal world. If you're a guy, don't exclude yourself from those spaces (I for one would love to have you participate). If you're a woman, don't be afraid to jump right in. This is not a scary, angry place that can exist without men. Far from it. It is a world more complete than the one we know now, where everything is finally in its rightful place, as it should be, serene, peaceful and empowering of oneself & the other.

Shucks, it might not be a battle after all.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

All Is Not Lost Yet

In the best tradition of rebel artists & revolutionary writers through the ages, one brave chap at SDI Subtitles has decided to take on censorship & subvert its oppressive forces. In a country where 'sex', 'shit', 'breasts', 'penis' and even 'screw' are bleeped out or reworded, this new age Che refuses to be cowed down:

As seen on Scrubs on Star World, this afternoon:

Dialogue: Don't be such a massive jackass.
Subtitle: Don't be such a massive prick.


Monday, March 29, 2010

Give Me Your Poor, Downtrodden (M)Asses


The Kumbh can be an entirely moving experience, it can be one of communion, reconnecting with one's spiritual self, of finding solace in truths higher than our mundane routines can offer us.

As you can imagine then, it attracts its fair share of looneys.
Case in point: the man in the above photographed billboards.

This person is a crusader. He is here to save every downtrodden, stamped, stomped and spat upon upper caste Hindu that ever walked the earth. You may be familiar with this long-suffering demographic. They've seen so much prejudice, suffered so much at the hands of those evil minorities, they've been screwed over so often by the communal and caste-driven democratic process of this nation....
...that now they - led by aforementioned crazy sadhu - want theirs back.

He's erected massive billboards all along the National Highway 45 from Roorkee to Haridwar. Each one follows the same template of panic and branches off into individual whiny messages fueling hatred:
The Hindu religion is in PERIL!!!! (because)....Hindus don't have equal opportunities in educational institutes/ job markets, they aren't schooled in their religion from an early age, they don't have financial advantages over other minorities, they're being corrupted by the evil forces of secularism and of course, they are the only victims of terrorism. 

Now, I've done this trip 4 times in the last 2 months and these billboards are beginning to have an effect on me. As a persecuted Hindu myself, I feel the pain this man is talking about. I think back to all those times when I was politely denied a job the minute people heard my last name, or when people refused to hand me the bill in a restaurant every time I was accompanied by a male Hindu. I have cried silent tears on being denied my graduate degree at the end of three years in Delhi University just because I did not appear for my English subsidiary exam. And when I visited the Levis store 24 hours after their sale had ended, management refused to extend it JUST because of my religion.

So, as I drove into Haridwar this time, I gave serious thought to joining this dude's cult. I took out a pen and paper to note down details of his website/address/crazycult name. I was all ready to take up the saffron robes. Then I saw crazy sadhu's name:

'Ananth Shri-blah-blah-blah-Acharya-yadayadayada-Swami-saywha'?!?!-Maharaj'

I knew then & there that I couldn't enlist. Because this broke the one cardinal rule of cult-joining that I live by:
'If you can't spell it, pronounce it or even recall it - you can't join it'
Damn.
So close I was.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Really, people...Part II

I'm so sick of aam janta badmouthing politicians and distancing themselves from what those 'evil parliamentarians' do.
Yes, leaving a bleeding cop to die on the side of a highway as you drive away with your convoy of vehicles is despicable. Yes, you may call it inhuman and absolutely inexcusable.
But for fuck's sake can we not turn into this - 'them dirty netas' shit?
Who are these bloody netas anyway? Didn't we kinda, sorta elect them? Didn't we in effect say - you dudes are the guys I choose to take care of me. Then what's all the drama about? They're not from Mars. They're just like you and me.

And they did exactly the same thing that millions of us do on a daily basis when we see a road accident happen and drive by, when a woman is being sexually harassed in broad daylight and we look away, a dog being beaten with sticks and we walk past.

There's no difference between us and the inhuman politician. So enough with the self-righteous witch hunt already.