I am too sexy for my body...

At long last, 2020 is behind us. For large part of the year, doubling, tripling and quadrupling as house help, cook, full-time mother / spouse, while desperately trying to hold on to a day job AND sanity (last one was tricky) – one faced severe shortage of time. Days felt shorter, yet the year felt like a whole decade. 

In this stressful period, in my overworked state with constant fear of the pandemic, I realized how much I take my body for granted.  In a profound moment, I even compared myself to the evil step-mother of Cinderella; Cinderella here being, my hardworking body. At the end of most (gruelling) days, I would look at the person in the mirror critically and say, you are becoming rounder and rounder. Yeah, I have always thought I was too sexy for my body.  In my head, I am my own Halle Barry, but what I saw on the mirror told another story; never mind you!

How badly I treat my body!? I feed all kinds of crap in the name of stress (eating); loving it too little, expecting too much and almost always criticising and shaming, forever wishing it / I were 5 kilos lighter and / or 5 centimetres taller. My hair's too frizzy, nails' too brittle, smile too gummy and eyes super crinkly – finding faults and only faults. 

Yet, in this most difficult year, as in all the years preceding that, my body has been utmost forgiving. It took on more work than it has ever been used to, never demanding a pay hike. It never whined for nice clothes or fancy shoes. It didn’t crash or collapse or drop dead. Even though, I almost always attend zoom meetings with my video off because my face looks too tired, I never bother to cajole my body and give it the extra rest it so desperately needs. 

Whatever I put it through, my body ploughs on. And here I thought, I was too sexy and my body had a lot of catching up to do. Ironical much!? 

With all my love and gratitude to my one true love aka hot bod...

p.s: all you boys and girls, go rock your body! 

This Thanksgiving, Let's Heal.

What better time to talk about gratitude than today? On #Thanksgiving2020, I could sit upright, put my fingertips to the keyboard and type away words that my mind conjured up in its lucid state, is an awful lot to be thankful for. I am not insensitive to the sufferings of the world, especially this year; but I just want to take a moment to feel the sense of contentment for everything that’s going right for me.  Even those that I am struggling with, I am grateful to be dealing with them without falling apart. 

What is my life made of? People and everything that comes with people. People are the epicenter of my joy, as well as heartaches. People are my life lessons and wise gurus. If it could be thus simplified, it must be easy to live a joyous life, no? How so? Forgive those who are responsible for all the heartaches and regrets?! Starting with self - for that one wrong decision, harsh words uttered, misjudgments, all the anger inside me, regrets, and all the fights that I fought & lost – for all this and more - to forgive myself. And then, to forgive others, for all the transgressions and hurt.

A friend once told me that he forgives easily but seldom forgets. Now, memory is a funny business. We have very little control over what our mind decides to store away for decades and what it chooses to forget the next minute.  It may bring back an unpleasant memory from decades ago, and wreck our peace in the now. What is easier to control though, is what our mind is chewing on at the present moment. Is it an old wound? Then let's just shush that mind of ours instead fuelling the chatter. Let the same arrow not pierce us twice. Not to dwell on the past hurts, is the only way to forgive fully - ourselves and others. And when we hurt no more and are free of regrets, it is a lot easier to count our blessings. And count our blessings, we all must.

This thanksgiving, may our lives be filled with healing, mindfulness, compassion, gratitude and truck loads of adventure. May the spirit of the season linger all year long!

Joy to the world!!

dinner date during sunnier days...

Lutyens’ Delhi is beautiful – obnoxious but beautiful.  Going from Mumbai, a city that looks like matchboxes stacked in a hurry, this part of Delhi mocks at you, humiliates you and makes you stop, look and take it in – all at once.  When an official commitment required me to spend a few days in Delhi, I decided I would go back to my old haunt and stay amidst this grandeur. 

Sometimes all it takes is one right decision, for everything to fall in place and make life look like straight out of a Karan Johar movie.  Around the same time that I was to be in Delhi, a dear friend from Chennai was visiting Delhi too.  We figured out we could squeeze in a dinner together, when we exchanged notes on our travel schedule. When he said he was going to a book a table at an award-winning restaurant that’s close to the property that I was to stay in, I didn’t think much of it – for various reasons.  I shy away from fine dining for I just don’t have the finesse or class that it takes. Secondly, I am a café kind of a woman. In ten minutes of being seated, I kick my shoes off and sit cross-legged on the couch.  Thirdly, to spend time with a friend is more important and “where” doesn’t count – gyan bhaji, I know, right!? Lastly, who knew if we would even keep the appointment; when you are traveling on work, things get planted in your schedule last minute and could throw your plans out of the window. So I kept my excitement (if any) under check. 

Cut to the appointed date (!), it seemed like it was going to happen, after all. I was a bit stressed about what to wear (duh!) and what and how to eat – I am worse than Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, when it comes to table manners. I was petrified things would fly off my plate and I would make a spectacle of myself.  I gathered myself, dabbed a bit of lipstick and a lot of confidence and stepped out of my room, ready to order an uber. The gentleman that my friend is, picks me up from the lobby and we rode in his rented car.  Suddenly I realised, how old I have grown for I haven’t been asked out on a formal dinner in a hundred years!

“Indian Accent” does total justice to all the hype, accolades and awards that it’s been receiving.  It is one of Asia’s 50 best restaurants and India’s best-kept secrets. Chef Mehrotra, dishes out love and magic in each of the six courses, that you forget your surroundings and graces and slurp away! I am not much of a foodie or even an amateur critique, sometimes I can’t tell one flavour from the other, can’t remember names of cheeses and gawk at people when they discuss exotic ingredients that go into making of a dish.  But that evening, my palate senses came alive and danced with joy during dinner and after!  Indian Accent is a must do, put it on your bucket list and go find the person who will perfectly compliment the class AND would offer to take you there. 

The little girl in me felt like she was on a trip to wonderland and much loved and pampered. May all of us be blessed with a mate like mine!

p.s: this was two years ago today, wrote it almost immediately, but didn't post it then.  Google memory nudged me to, today! :) 

also, lockdown means even more cherishing of such memories

if you think you are the good guy, act like one!

Last weekend, a friend sent me a link to a podcast and the host was Joe Rogan. Since then, YouTube has been suggesting me Joe Rogan’s other interviews. One of the suggestions that piqued my interest was Joe Rogan interviewing Jordan Peterson. I have been intrigued by this Peterson guy for some years now. Please note this post is not really about Peterson, but stay with me for some dope on him.

Jordon Peterson seems to feel strongly against people who are fighting to uphold social justice. He groups them into a category called “postmodern neo marxism” - make what you would, of it. He openly and vehemently opposed gender-neutral pronouns becoming a law (Bill C-16) under the pretext that it takes away his linguistic freedom. Who is to say his freedom is more important than the freedom of transgenders in how they want to be addressed!?

Peterson says gender inequality is a non-issue; his argument is men and women are made differently. Women are more agreeable, so are naturally attracted to nurturing jobs while men are curious (or something to that effect) so they are more STEM oriented. Even in Nordic countries where they seem to have won over gender issues, 80% of nursing jobs are held by women while 80% of engineering jobs are held by men (his stats, not mine). According to this college professor, if women are in low paying jobs, it’s not so much the nurture (read anomaly) as it’s the nature. Wah, Professor!

He has similar pearls of wisdom on pay gaps, how the oppressed gain moral high ground, while life is difficult for everyone (I see how difficult it must be - that job of oppressing!). This man is articulate, convincing, sounds scientific, has been a teacher, turns to Bible to support his arguments and wears the hat of a preacher too. One of the rules from his book “12 Rules for life” is “Set your house in perfect order before you criticize the world”. What if the world is, in a way responsible for the chaos or loss of order in someone’s house? I don’t think he wants to entertain that perspective.

Anyway, let's get back to Joe Rogan’s podcast that features Jordan Peterson. Both these men kept going back to a Channel 4 interview, from a couple of years ago, where Cathy Newman was the interviewer. I recollect, that interview was almost Peterson’s claim to fame. I had seen it when it went viral and heard Jordan Peterson for the first time, probably. Cathy was trying to engage him on pay gaps and gender inequality when it came to top jobs; our man just rubbished them without losing his cool and smiling all through. Cathy was losing it, quite obviously.

I am coming to the point of this post, finally. There are people who don’t view social justice like some of us do. In an argument both parties quickly put the other in neatly labeled boxes – “capitalist”, “socialist” “arm-chair activist”, “protestors” and so on. These protests, the voices - that remind us of our privileges probably trigger something unpleasant for some. The voice that stands up for the vulnerable, the George Floyds, seem to assume a moral high ground with people who would rather not have that unpleasantness awakened. Some moral high grounders also seem to adopt a tone of holier than thou, provoking the peacefully privileged.

This is what Cathy Newman did. She had notions about Peterson even before she walked into that interview. She didn’t agree with his take on some of the social issues that she felt strongly about. She knew his views, she didn’t probe into his reasoning just because she didn’t agree with them and she was visibly angry; though he was being assholish (in his views) he was measured and his language, very polished. This may have triggered her further and the trolls had a field day pulling Cathy down.

Often, I wonder or even angered at how blind some people are, to such obvious inequality and social injustice. When I vehemently argue, my (unintended) message could be, “I am sensitive and you are selfish”. However, what is obvious to me need not be viewed in the same proportion or even in the same direction by others. This is reality!

No matter how passionate one is about a cause, if we don’t take away anger from the equation, there is a fair chance you will be a called an activist or socialist and you may even be made to feel responsible (even if only slightly) for what happened in Venezuela or Timbaktu. This is even more frustrating, because all that you felt was empathy for a section of people.

If you have to talk about social issues, keep cool. If you don’t, it’s pretty much a soliloquy.

This is more a note to self!

p.s: after i wrote this piece, I heard Dr. Peterson is critically ill and undergoing some experimental treatment in Moscow. I wish him a speedy recovery...

Walk the Talk

Some people are capable of giving you evocative narratives. If that narrative is one of hope, in times of despair and dismay, it better be backed by genuine intention and action plan. Otherwise the narrative is nothing more than a fairy tale. Let me tell you, even a romantic and self proclaimed bibliophile (me for one) is not in any mood for fairy tales, right now.

In his speech last week, our PM promised to allocate 10% of our GDP to address the economic disaster caused by lockdown (8 weeks and counting!) and what followed, has been nothing short of mockery of the intelligence of an average Indian.

It was not our choice to stop going to work; it was not for us to choose (nor enjoy such entitlements) health over livelihood. Least of all, it’s not our fault that our healthcare has been down in the dumps forever and though Covid has been a reality for at least 2 months before the lockdown, we were least prepared to face it, were it to hit us.

And then one day, we were told to stay home. The elderly who live by themselves, those who didn’t have the luxury of working from home, students - who are left wondering if their academic year is over or not, hundreds of thousands of daily wagers - our ironwala, paper wala, dubbawala, auto rickshaw bhaiyya, road construction workers, hawkers who sell phone covers, batata vadas and ballpoint pens, cobblers and courier fellows and the rest - had to stay home.

Even the homeless had to stay home. Having lost their livelihood, more and more became homeless and these people who are otherwise part of our daily lives were left to fend for themselves. From where and how? They worked everyday, lived with dignity and what’s more - chose a leader. And even that leader, I am not sure has the luxury of discretion in choosing to save his people from a virus, but rip them of their dignity.

Those leaders who made a choice on our behalf, to lockdown an entire country and it’s economic activities are now worried about what the rating agencies would do, if we were to print and transfer money to the poorest of the poor, who had built life even without a voice or agency!? Is that the worry or is it the misplaced intention that we seize this opportunity and make India great, to borrow a line from the Big Brother?

People are not so much worried about the pandemic as they are about their livelihoods and the grave uncertainty around it. It’s ok if the government and our leaders are too confused to think - for now, it’s enough if they can “feel” for their fellow human beings. How about we:

• Put an end to the lockdown even if in a phased manner
• First put money (500 Rupees is an insult!) in people’s pockets through direct transfers; take them home if they are stranded and then talk their confidence up. Don’t mess up that order. 
• Don’t take us to your state-of-the-art operation theatre and apply bandaid on our haemorrhage - that’s not very becoming. 
• Instead of promoting Modi Sarkar, use media to promote and educate people of all strata how to maintain social distancing and hygiene to avoid contracting the virus. Work with local social organisations and create Covid champions in bastis. Educate on steps if they show symptoms. Make testing easily accessible and build temporary isolation centres every 5 kilometres 
• Stop peddling stories and start building  strategies backed by action plan and sell it to those who matter - industrialists, international investors, credit rating agencies, RBI and us, the citizens. We would like to know what you are thinking or if you are thinking at all. 
• Build credibility - within and with outside world. Making “PM Cares” more transparent could be a good starting point? 
• Lastly but importantly, please advise our honourable FM to stop giving us a roundup of what “Modi Sarkar” has done for us since the lockdown, every 10 minutes during her presentation. If “Modiji” has done something of relevance, it’s likely I would remember. For instance, I remember I am under lockdown. 

It appears that we could be living with this pandemic for years to come. So, let’s stop winging it?!

Kamala
(A dismayed citizen who voted for Modi sarkar in 2014)

The Big 5 - Oh! happened already?

Amidst the gloom and grave uncertainty, I am moving over to the other side of 50. It's (I can hear you mutter "not necessarily") mandatory that I do some introspection? What does 50 look like? 

Before I started writing this, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and carefully examined myself (note to self: that mirror needs cleaning). More wrinkles? More greys? I counted and there’s no significant increase from the last count. So, what’s the big deal? If I skip all the zoom birthday parties lined up, I could just convince myself I am still in my 40s. I am not an ageist though. In fact, I have been looking forward to hitting this milestone; why, I wouldn’t know. And here it is!

Cut to the chase, fifty feels like ripe middle age. On this milestone birthday, I know fair share of my life has already been lived (how morbid)!

Given that the journey ahead is shorter, I realise my choices will have to be wiser. And choices there will have to be. First off, no spreading thin - that’s not going to happen. Next is, more curiosity and less opinion in order to understand people, culture, history, politics and life, in general. Talks over chat, assertion over aggression, (even more) hope over despair, no struggling (with those I am not enoughs) and no obsessing (trying to get to being good enough) AND reinventing myself periodically are going to be firm choices. I realise while we are all unique, we are also alike in many ways. With that understanding, I will continue to share my stories here.

Somethings won’t change – they make me - so those will stay. The world continues to favour those "playing cool" over leaping towards connection; however, I would continue to unhinge my rib cage and open myself for some people, even if it leaves me with a broken heart. Some old-world charms will be my constant companions – long walks, holding hands, marvelling at nature - the sun, moon and the changing colours of seasons, falling in love with music and any work of art that tugs at my heart, Tamil proverbs, train journey, solitude, quiet of the morning, sentimentality, conversations and chivalry. 

I think I will continue to be annoyed by Bombay rains and incessant honking.

Corona has taught us the importance of being in the moment, patient, dealing with uncertainty and to just BE! I hope I retain these learnings and I can’t stop being amazed at how adaptable we are, as a race! In these times, gratitude has helped me stay sane; well, most of the times.

Like most things in life, what I intended to write and what this post turned out to be, are very different. Be that as it may.  I will now go and practice being 50! With the bar suddenly well stocked (credits will roll, soon), bring on the birthday!

Arriba! Abajo! Al centro! Al dentro!

(Until the next travel, memories of Spain will keep us wandering souls alive…)

I miss you too, Mumbai! But this is caution in the times of Corona...

“Spirit of Mumbai” is legendary. Whether your house went under water, or you saw a train compartment being blown up, or terrorists held hostages 5 buildings from your work place - we took pride in getting up the next morning, dressing up, jostling on and showing up at work or school or wherever one needed to be!
We just do it, time after time, during natural calamity, grief, loss - we throw ourselves at routine or work. Sublimation- it’s been our collective defense mechanism. We block out the unpleasantness or fear, so we could go on with life, as if nothing happened.
What happened to the victims / their families? How are the authorities handling it? What emergency measures? We don’t delve much into it, for we don’t want the emotions coming in the way of our routine, our professional or social life- it’s both an escape and comfort.
Whether you are a Mumbaikar or not, it’s time for you to strip yourself off the armour called “mumbai spirit” (or whatever you call it in your cities and towns). It’s not going to help this time, to “get up and show up”! That spirit must feel worn out, don’t summon it this time, please!
It’s ok if you missed a deadline, a shipment didn’t leave or had to skip a brainstorming session. Stay well and alive and help others stay well and alive, and you will have enough people to sell your goods and ideas to, hopefully in the not so far future. Shut yourselves at home, so the hospitals don’t have to be bursting at their seams.
Be scared, be vulnerable and stay indoors. “Paranoid survive” is truer now than ever. Being brave worked in most situations. But COVID doesn’t look like just another situation that we got ourselves into. We all know life goes on. But we would save ourselves from horrid memories, if we all slowdown - just a bit. What’s a fortnight or a month in our nice, long lives!? And nice, long life is all what we want, right!?

Loads of love, strength and namaste from our home to yours

Know thyself. Love thyself.

I walked into 2019 beleaguered by panic attacks. Towards end of 2018, massive fear gripped me, weighing like a boulder on my chest, my heart was beating in my ears and I was engulfed in darkness. 

I entered 2019 with anxiety, fear, loneliness and huge void inside me.

When you are caught in these spaces, often, you are by yourself. That’s the nature of the beast.  You could see a doctor for the anxiety attacks or confide in a dear friend / spouse  about the trigger – but you are pretty much on your own.  It's like undertaking a journey to unchartered territory - blindfolded.  It's impossible to articulate exactly what you see / experience . So people around you can only help so much!

There are times (thankfully not often) something simple and beautiful, suddenly ties itself into knots – and you have no idea how to untangle it or turn the clock back.  You see yourself losing grip over the situation and this other person is constantly shifting your coordinates, allowing no time for you to acclimatise. You are confused and spinning out of control, on top of which you are made to believe, seeking to understand these rapid changes amounts to being demanding or a nag. The negative spiral is so vicious, it really turns you into a nag or so you begin to believe. And then, you set yourself on a path of  self doubt and self flagellation. This about sums up!

While the confusion and utter callousness of this other person threw me off, at the core of my angst was the realisation as to how little I understood myself at an emotional level. Or it could well be the fallout of the self-critical state I was in.  The more confused I grew, the more caged I felt and I was angry at the situation and the person who led me to it. I was frustrated, helpless and at wits’ end.  I felt powerless, desperate to be understood and made allowances for, given my vulnerability.  Could someone or something affect so deeply? It did, to me! The fact that I am highly sensitive and my emotions are almost always magnified, didn’t help either! To cut the long story short, I was having a breakdown.  My battered inner-self was becoming desperate and screaming for attention and help. It was no longer business as usual; it was a crisis. 

I am seeing a therapist now and on the path to self-discovery and hopefully recovery too.

Why am I making this struggle public? From talking to the therapist and reading up on human psychology, I find it a profound relief that I am not the only one. Hence I have reason to believe that my narrative will most likely help others see that too - we are not alone.  Besides, sharing this / writing it down is helping me overcome guilt and shame over my angry outbursts and poor grasp of my very own emotional makeup which led to temporary insanity.

I quote this from a book I read recently “without having any of the dramatic talent of a Sophocles or Shakespeare, we need to tell our own stories of loss and error with some of the same generosity that they employed, thereby holding on to what can often feel, especially at our lowest points, like a hugely improbable idea: that though we have failed, however stupid our mistakes, we remain deserving of that gracious and grand epithet, a gift from the Greeks to all humankind: a tragic failure“

I don’t know how I would ever have gotten well if I hadn’t fallen ill?!  Self is a mystery and self-discovery should be a constant endeavour  – and this is what I learnt in 2019. I am grateful for all the hits and misses and insanity of 2019 as I have emerged stronger to take on 2020s.

And we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet,

for auld lang syne.

For old times' sake be your own best friend and serve nothing but kindness to yourself? Just this year?

Who hijacked the wedding?

Over the extended weekend, I attended a wedding in the friemily; probably my first elaborate one in Bombay – spreading over several ceremonies and celebrations. 

Wedding is a culmination of two hearts and in Indian context, it is also an awkward coming together of two families; more mixed the marriage is, more is the awkward quotient.  But this makes weddings more effective in shrinking (read uniting) our country, which is so huge (and divided) in terms of its culture, traditions and languages.  I am digressing, though. I was going to write about who hogs the limelight in a wedding.

Women sashaying, with their silks rustling and diamonds glittering, men not to be left behind in their Nehru / Modi jackets and dhotis in varying styles OR satin pocket squares matching their wives' saree colours,  giggles and guffaws of young friends of the bride and groom, crowding the corners, where everyone is looking for someone,  aroma of flower and food wafting through the air and the happy mayhem gets you lost, you ask an important question.  Who is the VIP in these ceremonies?

Did I hear you say, the bride? No, she isn’t; not by a mile. She is busy trying to keep up with a hundred ceremonies, attires to go with it and her hairdo and makeup. She is not thinking beyond the next event that she has to get ready for.  Is it the groom, then?  In middle of a dozen celebrations and given the male impatience  (that’s sexism! Nonetheless, most of you would agree!?), he is busy questioning his sanity, having signed up for this.  Parents? Don’t even get them started.

The ghoda wala,  dholak wala, footwear thieves (from both sides, no less!) are all mild disruptors – trying to steal the show for a moment or for an hour. The real showstopper in a wedding, is the photographer (photographer"s" in most cases).  There are a million photos taken (not counting the photos on cell phones) from various angles, action replayed, priests and ceremonies interrupted, people (who are genuinely interested in witnessing the ceremony) pushed out of the way - so that photos can be taken - which maybe revisited (on an average) once every 5 years by a bored family member.  Maybe!

Since when did the tail start wagging the dog? Are photos becoming more important than the moment that’s being celebrated? I know, I know, it’s not just in the weddings.  Our lives now revolve around recording more than living (such as my indulgence in writing this piece).  When I got married, (agreed, that was a long time ago) and in my mulk, the photographer’s territory ended just where the priest’s started.  The almost always angry and perennially rushed priest, wouldn’t have any of the retakes and replays that the photographer constantly demands today.  Those were also the live-thro-the-drudgeries days and not the click-and-share days (which yours truly is guilty of, most often). 

Time to delve into what is the real utility of these photos other than the best ones serving as your DPs and adorning your walls (virtual, mind you!). While at it, I am going to tell, anyone who would listen, that photographers are hired by the family and not the other way round.

Here’s to more magical moments and less madness of bombarding the cloud with cool pics!

T M Krishna

தழய தழய கட்டிய எட்டு முழ வேட்டியில் கை அகல அரக்கு கறை, கோபுர பார்டர் சகிதம், நிமிர்ந்த நடை, தீவிர (intense) நோக்கு... அட அட அட....
(I couldn’t have described that in any other language)

TM Krishna is a name that’s synonymous with maverick. He is a non-conformist and taken his music from sabahs to street corners and kuppams (slums). There is ease in everything that he does - his music, losing himself in the magic that his accompanists dole out, standing up for what he believes in - the list goes on.

I have been reading his views on varied subjects and listening to his songs on YouTube for many years now and been a huge fan. This morning, I attended his concert and am still on a musical high. When he sings, he has a subtle arrogance (not indifference, mind you) that comes not just from being extraordinaire, but from being “the man” with his revolutionary thinking and backing it up with action and his words - oh so powerful words! (You almost want to tell him that the subtle arrogance looks so good on him).

He is one of the few musicians who brought Tamil compositions to the forefront. It’s only fitting that he started today’s concert with a Nammalwar pasuram and seamlessly moved on to Thyagarajar keerthani (both in same raga), Dikshitar composition in mayamalavagowlai, a tillana, soulful Kannada song composed by Basavaiah and was rounding it off with an abhang (Marathi land after all!). He got a Standing ovation of course, but people just stood there, frozen, unwilling to accept that the afternoon is at its end. Deepa Devaraj said, “but we don’t want to go” and I sheepishly added, “could we have one more please” - musicians were already packing their instruments, but TMK obliged and indulged us with a Tulsidas Bhajan. What a morning it was!

He would have made a great dancer too - catching a note from here, plucking another one from up above, flying a kite, or shifting gears, and using his long fingers to orchestrate - his fluid movements were as delightful as his music. When an artist of his stature enjoys his performance, resultant is an enthralled audience. His brilliance was so palpable and was shining bright all through 150 minutes. There wasn’t a dull moment.

His carefully selected crew was excellent. The instruments (mridangam, kajira and violin) came alive at their touch and TMK let them weave magic, encouraging them with his shabashes and bhales quite generously but deservedly. There comes a point (rather early in the concert, almost as soon as he is satisfied with acoustics) after which TMK has eyes only for his accompanists. You almost feel like an outsider, if you know what I mean. But that’s just an aside.

Despite the fact that he is neither a purist nor traditionalist, he still gives a sabah goer what he or she is looking for. He is a Carnatic musician at heart and thank God for that. And even more gratitude for taking his music to a different plane and making it accessible to everyone - புறம்போக்கு பாடல்கள் for பாமர மக்கள்.

TMK’s thought leadership is a different subject altogether and that’s for another post. For now, his music is ringing in my ears across ragas and his very animated performance fills my being.

Thank you, #TMKrishna

(TM Krishna for Crossroads at Balagandharva Ranga Mandir, Bandra West on Nov 25, 2018)

women like attention; serve men some solitude, maybe?

A friend of many years sent me a meme last week, which read, “to make a woman happy give her these three things, attention, affection and appreciation” and asked me what I thought of it.  I didn’t respond to him immediately as I didn’t have the emotional space to think about it, then.

Now I am wondering aloud – isn’t this something everyone likes?  Attention, affection and appreciation – don’t men feel nice receiving these? I have never been a man, so I don’t know how exactly a guy feels when he receives a compliment on his tie or on being congratulated on a task well done or on being asked out for coffee (I imagine most guys would do a headstand! No, I am not being arrogant, here).

The problem, like in most gender issues, is one of stereotyping.  “Women like flowers”, yes we do.  Have you tried giving a bunch of flowers to a man? Have you even asked a man if he likes receiving flowers? I have a guy friend who will forgive me all my faults if I bought him dark chocolates. Go figure!  I have known men to like flowers, gifts, compliments and attention – attention with a capital A and capital everything that follows. And I see nothing wrong with that. 

The one difference from my own behavioural pattern and my observation of others is, (most) women need validation (and attention and all that faff) from their significant ones. This is not a need that dies down with time or familiarity. In fact, the more we get it, the more we want it; whereas with men, (and like most things with men) beyond a point, these validations have very little effect on them (or so it’s shown).  Read validation from the “same” person; also please note bosses are exceptions -even if they have had the “same” one for 15 years.

On a more serious note, generations of conditioning may have turned women into insecure beings – gender hierarchies, stereotyping, inequalities that still exist – have a deep-rooted effect on women’s psyche. Their need for recognition and expression is more pronounced, though the innate need is as prevalent in men.  Add to it the burden to appear macho - conditioning that men have received over generations, you get a very confused and complex creature called a man.

So my dear friend, women love all the three “A”s, we also like conversations, occasional solitude and men who are articulate.

p.s: Today is International Men’s Day – to raise awareness about men’s mental health. Here’s to you, gentlemen!
It’s time you guys find the male equivalent of feminism if that means tapping the feminine side of you. It would truly be an equal world!

24 and counting...

We have just arrived in Vienna and it’s our anniversary. Soft music playing in the background that I chose (note that “I”), on YouTube, as I am ironing my saree, preparing for a nice anniversary dinner…

“I have never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight

I have never seen you shine so bright

I have never seen so many men ask if you wanted to dance

They’re looking for a little romance, given half  a chance”

I am heady and feeling special imagining myself to be the lady in red.  It’s Vienna (again!) - city of music and I am feeling all musical and romantic (duh!).  Next YouTube doles out Rod Stewart's "Have I told you lately"

Out comes the husband showered and almost appropriately dressed for the anniversary dinner. I am in a beige linen saree and ebbing with confidence and love (in that order!); daughter is looking on like I am a creature from another planet. I walk up to my husband of 24 years, all prepared for a slow dance for Rod Stewart’s romantic number.  He looks at me like I have lost it and asks me if I want another Vodka shot. Whatever happened to romance, people? I threaten him that I will write about my loveless life. Isn’t he the brave heart? Just didn’t budge. Daughter looks vindicated! They sure are a team. I settle for the vodka shot.

We follow our host’s advice and a walk a few blocks to the cobblestoned street and pick a restaurant called Porzellan. It’s a lovely place serving Austrian and Italian cuisine. Husband orders a beer (men!) and I order sparkling white for my daughter and self and tell Marcus to suggest something that’s palatable to the vegetarian us! The striking young man (originally from Linz) says, “I will bring you two dishes of my choice, is that alright?” Me, the reject (remember the dance episode!?), hurt but not retired, smiles and says, “go on and surprise me!”

While I was getting drunk on the bubbly, Marcus brings the most delicious Georgian & herbs – that consists eggplant and crispy falafel AND homemade ravioli. Eggplant is my absolute favourite, ravioli, my daughter’s and husband happily drunk on local beer.  When Marcus smiled his most adorable smile and served us food, I thought to myself  “God exists for sure and sometimes he could be the eggplant on your plate or Marcus who serves it.  Life is good and eggplant is great! I am ready for the next 24; bring it on"

Happy Anniversary!

I am a woman with a poor sense of humour...

I am privileged to be part of a few male-dominated WhatsApp groups.  Not just any group, mind you! These are groups of serious knowledge bank and money machines (me? Theory of exception should explain!).  In the middle of all the money and knowledge discussion, arrives a meme, which shows woman in poor light.  Nagging wife, girlfriend who is a drain on a man’s money, bad driver, vain and so on and so forth.

Now we all know that both men and women have their faults? Could you tell me how many memes or messages that you see in the social media that show a man in poor light? I would say 1:50 (was going to say 1:100). Now me being-the-bull-in-a-China-shop me, won’t let it slip in the barrage of “meaningful” messages, and raise an objection. And when I do that, I am told that I lack sense of humour, that I have forgotten how to laugh and too uptight.

If you are in my circle and/or reading this, I don’t need to remind you history and reality.  Women had to fight for education, employment, voting rights, opinion and oh, even for an honourable existence. The reality remains that a girl child is fighting inequality even before she is born.  If she is ever born, has to deal with molestation, eve-teasing, objectifying, inequality at work place both in terms of pay and growth opportunity.  “Just married yaar, can’t hire / promote – may soon be in her family way” – sounds familiar? Inclusive much? We also have to deal with what nature and centuries of conditioning have bestowed on us- mother, nurturer, natural caregivers (no less!) and in newer terminology – homemaker.

Whether the laundry gets done daily or thrice a week to Can peanut butter sandwich pass of as a healthy snack for your toddler to Whether to cut wages of an irregular house help or indulge, for you need her to Explaining to the husband (for the 100^th time) a hand towel, dishtowel and a swab have different purposes in the kitchen - she does more than her fair share. At home, she is both the traffic cop and a school bus driver – at the same time.

Most men (be it father, brother or husband) think a woman has a lot on her plate (not more than him though, mind you!) and it’s best she remains happy where she is and with what she is good at.  Women break the first glass ceiling at home and get out and pursue what they want to.  Most women take this up as an additional challenge and responsibility and don’t shirk their “homely” duties.

Now that I, as a woman managed to get into a man’s (working) world and crept into “professional” groups, I should learn to guffaw at discriminating jokes – even if the joke is on me? Is that what you are saying, my male friend? Now you want to induct me into your “locker-room”? If I insist I will retain my feminism along with the equality I earned, I am told that after all the opportunities that I have been “given” I still am defensive; that feminism is a fad and over-rated and ugly.

When I object to jokes that border on sexism and gender stereotype, I get questioned.  I am sharing some of the oft-asked questions and my answers:

1. Where is your sense of humour? I am saving it for a joke. I am not about to giggle if you objectify my clan and calling it a joke doesn’t make sexism more acceptable
2. Did I create that meme? I say, then why perpetuate it?
3. Why are you so defensive? Are you a victim of sexism? I say, yes and no. I am married to a man who respects and loves me in equal measure but the society has gender issues that affect me and we (you and I) need to fight it
4. I am a decent man. I respect women. How could you call me a sexist? I know you are a decent man; otherwise I wont have a conversation with you. However your sense of superiority and the need to throw your masculinity at me amount to sexism. If you don’t fight sexism and objectification, then too you’re a sexist, even if a passive one. I am sorry, my friend, that’s just how it is!
5. Aren’t there jokes on Sardars?  I ask, did I say racism is better than sexism? 

We need feminism. Women have to fight tough battles – may not be the women in your lives but there are millions out there who are fighting for a mere peaceful and dignified existence (equality comes much later). Feminism is the advocacy of women’s rights on the ground of equality of sexes (dictionary meaning) and we are far from equal. Don’t look at the privileged class – then my feminism may look misplaced. Look at society at large.

My dear man friends, don’t make this struggle, this battle more difficult than it already is! Most of all, please don’t laugh at it…