Orange

Her eyes stopped at the orange bars around the balcony, the clothes that hung on it and the dry brown ground beyond it. As bent forward to dry more clothes, she could hear footsteps behind and she froze in fear. From the corner of her eyes, she could see a pair of hands approaching her. Her hands went cold and throat went dry with fear. She felt the pressure on her back as they pushed her over and she began her free fall towards the ground. She tried to stop, hang on to the orange bars. But the pair of cold hands let her loose again...the beast had struck.

And then the sickly thud on the ground, blood oozed out of her head and mouth. The wailing ambulance, the stretcher and her baby, Leena, crying over her limp form; she heard it all. She heard the doctor whisper about the arms which broke on contact, the bruises on her cheeks and the multiple fractures to the skull and the body. And then she lay in a multitude of bandages.

After months in the dark, cold room she finally returned home. As she entered she saw smiles on everyone’s face, welcoming her or so she thought. She flitted from one room to another waiting for Leena to get back from school. She wanted to hold her to the warmth of her bosom, feel her soft skin against hers and sing to her softly as she ate. And then she heard Leena scream. She rushed just in time to stop the pair of hands from banging Leena’s head to the wall. She pushed the bewildered beast back and stood like a rock between Leena and him. Her hands crept to the bamboo stick standing in the corner, she pulled it out and beat the beast up....black blue and orange..

The beast turned back and ran out of the room screaming! She smiled and turned to look at Leena. She took her in the arms, wiped her tears, soothed her wounds and put her back to sleep. Sometime past mid-night they all trooped in, the family and her beastly husband. She could hear them whisper, “Bhaiyaji, bhoot hai, Nalini ka bhoot hai! Woh wapas aa gayi hai!“

She laughed and it echoed in the house, the troop scampered away. The next day saw pandits, poojas, purohits, sholakas....but nothing could send her away. She had come back....come back from the dead.... come back as a ghost to guard over her child.

As she sat on the orange bars, she could feel the heat of May in the wind. She looked back at Leena sleeping peacefully and wished she had retaliated earlier. Beaten the beast up earlier....overcome her fears earlier and been alive for her child......

The Choice

The café was empty and silent except the television buzzing in one corner, just like Ajay’s brain. As he looked into her eyes, he couldn’t think straight. Maybe it was just a bad dream and he’d still wake up to their picture by his bedside. He looked away and back again and she was still there, it was no dream.

“Ajay please don’t make it more difficult than it already is,” she whispered.

Ajay found his voice and in a last ditch attempt said, “But why Vasu?! Why do you want to walk away just when everything is going right? It’s only about a year, once am done with my MBA, I can build for you the life you have always yearned for.”

Vasudha gave a nervous shout and then lowered her voice again, “Ajay it’s over and I have given you my reasons, please don’t push it any further. Let it die!”

As she walked away he slumped in the couch, a tear fell down his cheek, and he resigned to his fate. The café guy smirked, the one millionth break-up he had witnessed.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vasudha gasped in relief; it had been easier than she thought it would be. Seven years was a long time and Ajay must have been hurt. But she had been left with no choices and it was in their best interest. Her marriage had been arranged with the US returned Rahul; he was everything her parents had wanted. Brilliant, ambitious, rich and very well educated. And of course who couldn’t want to marry her, she was gorgeous, fair, tall and a graduate. Match made in heaven.

It was the wedding of the season; people spoke about it for years to come. Her father was a top-shot bureaucrat and her wedding had been attended by the who’s who of Delhi.

Vasudha & Rahul looked perfect, made for each other. Vasudha smiled, “Not so bad after all, this is what fairy tale marriages are made of,” she thought.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The house was empty when Vasudha woke up, the kids had gone to school and Rahul wasn’t in town. She gulped down her coffee as she stopped to check herself out in her dressing room, she was no longer her slim self, and 3 kids had given her bulges at the wrong places. But nothing that couldn’t be hidden well!

“3 kids,” Vasudha sighed. The eternal Indian quest for a son had made them try again and again. “Thankfully, the third one was a boy to take the family name forward,” she sighed again.

As she closed her jewelry box in her dressing room her eyes rested on the bracelet made of shells…her hand lingered on it for a while and her thoughts went back to Ajay…a very frequent occurrence these days.

She snapped herself back to reality and went on with her boring day, like all other days. The kids were in school and wouldn’t be back till late and even when they got back they were closer to the nannies than her. Rahul was in yet another business meeting in Chicago. Anyways, he never had time for her. A hot-shot consultant he was perpetually travelling. The marriage had been loveless from day one; the only love she ever got was in form of credit cards. For Rahul nothing mattered except work, constant travel, business deals, new assignments, board meetings, promotions and being on a fast track. Rahul was obsessed with work and making money. He was attending meetings even through their honey-moon!

Even when the kids came he hadn’t been there. “My life is as good as over,” thought Vasudha.

“There are the kitty parties of course to keep me busy, spa sessions, retail therapy, card sessions, gym jaunts and some ten credit cards. Only if I could have my husband as well,” she croaked.

She didn’t even remember the last time Rahul and she had shared a loving look. It was dead, their marriage, as dead as she was. At 35 she looked 45, beyond the make-up the tell-tale signs of alcohol and smoking were evident.

As she tapped her feet impatiently at the salon the phone rang, it was Hema her oldest friend.

“Vasu you are coming right? For the alumni meet?” Hema quipped.

“Uh,” Vasu hesitated.

Hema pestered, “Oh C’mon! It’s been a long time since we met, let’s catch up. “And,” Hema stopped a bit...”Well Ajay is in town too.” Vasudha’s face lit up. She somehow managed to hide the incessant beating of her heart and said, “Hema, c’mon, Ajay and me are history. But anyways I will be there.”

Vasudha knew she had to look her best. Ajay, her very own Ajay, after 10 long years…she couldn’t stop smiling.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vasudha was overdressed and she knew it. But that was the idea; her sources had told her that Ajay was married to a very simple girl. She had to glitter; she had to shine so that Ajay would remember them.

“Oh, how foolish I had been to let him go!”

Before she entered the ball room, she sneaked a glance at her reflection, perfect!

She scanned the crowd and saw him. Suddenly everything else ceased to exist. There was Ajay, looking better than she remembered him. His hair was now a delicious mix of salt and pepper. As she walked towards him the crowds disappeared, the years vanished and suddenly there she was before him.

“Hi Vasu,” said Ajay in his baritone voice.

“Hi Ajay,” said Vasudha a little breathless. “How have you been?”

“Am good, Vasu. Meet my wife, Anuradha.”

Vasudha stiffened and said, “Hi Anuradha, how are you.” “Anu, I and Vasu were in school together and then we lost touch when I was about to join MBA,” said Ajay dismissively.

Anuradha smiled, Vasu sized her up. Her casual jeans and shirt seemed to mock Vasu’s flowing satin gown, it angered her to no end. Someone called Anu, and it was her and Ajay again.

Vasu was seething in anger, she put on her well-practiced haughty look, and topped it with her weapon of affluence, “So Ajay, what are you doing these days, still taking care of your dad’s grocery store.” Ajay smiled, “You haven’t changed Vasu have you. Still running after glamour & money; well yes Vasu, dad still runs his grocery store, and I try and help him as much as I can. Vasudha was squirming by now as Ajay continued, “We, that’s me and Anu, we run a travel firm especially for adventure & wild life enthusiasts. He stopped and added, “I never joined B-school after you left. And thankfully for that, otherwise I would have been in some company, too busy to have time for my family. Anyways, forget about me, how have you been?”

Vasudha’s head was buzzing, as if Ajay had slapped her, what should she say, “That she was a bored trophy wife who had lost shine for her whiz-kid, materialistic husband. That she had given birth to 3 kids in her quest for a male heir. That there were nights when she could smell feminine perfume emanating from her husband’s clothes. That one evening she had seen her husband walk towards a hotel lift with another woman, hand in hand.”

Vasudha smiled and nodded, “Am good Ajay, very happy, I will see you around.” She quickly turned around and left.

And as she raced towards the exit their last conversation came gushing back to her, “Ajay, it will not work out for us. You will never be able to give me what I am used to. Am used to luxuries and comforts and while you guys don’t even have household help. I can’t lead a life like that. ”

Ajay had stopped her, tried convincing her, “In a year I will earn well enough. Give me a chance, give us a chance, we will build our lives together Vasu. Please,” he had begged.

But she had made her choice, of marrying a man with power, money, ambition and wealth. And with that choice, she had left behind the right to be loved.

As she glanced back she saw them together, Anuradha threw her head back at a joke and Ajay put his hand lovingly around her back.

This is what fairy tales are made of thought Vasudha as she returned to her life of boredom and infidelity.

From ADVICE to (AD)VICE

Since Poppins birth I have been inundated with advice, mostly out of genuine concern. But when advice is pushed down your throat the (ad) disappears and it becomes a Vice.

The point is I hate people telling me what to do specially when you try and force it on me and make it a compulsion. And I really don’t want to listen to old wives tales, for my little one I want to make my own decisions. Poppins is my child and the only other person whose point can be pitted against mine is AJ. This might sound arrogant and full of myself but I believe either I am the best judge or AJ or she herself, when she can make choices.

And why should I listen to remedies or customs which don’t have a scientific backing. And some of them are really atrocious, get these -

- Applying hing near the baby’s navel to avoid colic. For the life of me I can’t understand how applying hing near the navel can solve something that is inside. It has worked for some people but it just doesn’t work me. So I don’t do it, so don’t question!

- Another one is the famous dabur janam ghutti, it apparently improves the baby’s digestive system and they won’t spit as much. If you read a bit you would know that the baby’s digestive system takes around a year to be developed so in their early months they spit. So if you start giving dabur janam ghutti to the baby when she is 2–month old and in her 7th month the baby stops spitting it’s not because of the magical ghutti but because the baby is growing up.

- Mothers shouldn’t look at a baby’s growing teeth or else the process will be painful. Ah sure!

- Don’t wash your hair and feed the baby, the baby will catch a cold. Uh really? Do I have air con fitted in my hair, which will send a blast of cold air towards her?

- The latest I heard is about this “magical oil” Roghan Badam Shirin, I have been told that application of this oil will increase Poppins hair plus ensure that she has excellent memory. Objection my lord! Poppins already has lovely hair and it’s genetic. It’s just been 1.6 months since her mundan and everyone is amazed at the growth. And if a massage could ensure good memory I would be Einstein with the amount of massages I have taken at salons. And screw you man I don’t want her to have excellent memory, start walking at ten months, start talking at a year, be fair and white, have no facial hair, grow up to be an engineer and do an MBA. Right now when she is so young I want her to be healthy and happy and latter when she grows up I want her to do what she enjoys, it could be academics, music, dance, painting or anything else. I will give her right opportunities like getting her admitted to a good school et al, but am not going to pressure her for performance. I don’t want a child prodigy; I just want a normal happy healthy child with normal interests.

- Another (ad)vice is to apply stuff to my baby so that she becomes fair. Well who said I want a fair & lovely baby. I love my baby in the shade she is, and she is just so beautiful, absolutely gorgeous.

- And if I hear another word on how thin she looks and (ad)vices on how to increase her weight I will shoot someone. How can a baby be fat when both her parents were skinny as babies, kids and adults?

So next time you see a new mother and want to give her (ad)vice please refrain until you are asked specifically.

And new mother, next time someone tells you how to make your baby walk faster, make her fat, make her look fairer or make her an Einstein just punch them in the face.

R.I.P Music - From sweet melody to Garbage bin

It was the beginning of the hippie culture in India and Zeenat represented it perfectly in the famous “Dum maro Dum” in the 1971 movie “Hare Rama Hare Krishna.”


Young, beautiful and looking her vulnerable best, Zeenat swayed to the number and nation went crazy when she went Hsssssssshhhh. She caught the nation’s imagination clad in a red outfit with “gainda phool” garlands and a sun-glass perched on her head.

The movie went on to become a super hit; the song gained cult status. For years since 1971, people across the country have danced, drunk, smoked to Dum maro dum. Every youngster through his/her growing years must have sung

“Chaahe jiyenge marenge, Duniyaa se ham naa Darenge, Hamako naa roke zamaanaa, jo chaahenge ham karenge."

And then 2011 happened and someone somewhere decided to make a movie named “Dum maro Dum.” He further got someone to remix this cult song and that’s when the journey from sweet melody to Garbage bin began. Have you heard the lyrics - Unche se uncha banda, potty pe baithe nanga..Phir kaahey ki society, saali kaahey ka paakhanda.. or Aaj Dheel Choda Raha hai Kal Khud hi tokega Aaj Mere liye Chair kheench raha hai Kal Meri Skirt Kheenchega.

What do you call this, lack of imagination while penning a song? Or just sheer laziness? Or the 2-minute Maggie culture? Or were the lyrics penned out in midst of a road rage exchange in delhi, that’s why the abuses?

It’s a systematic, planned murder of the song. And if the lyrics are not bad enough, you have Deepika Padukone skimpily dressed in an attire better suited for a beach (than a club), with a hideous looking tattoo, looking as clueless and insipid as the song.

And even before I could mourn in peace the death of “Dum maro dum” I saw “Laila O Laila” - the scintillating number from Feroz Khan’s Qurbani. Conspiracy against Zeenat is it? Yeah, the original song had Zeenat looking absolutely ravishing in a white outfit. Many years older than Dum maro dum she still looked as gorgeous and set a lot of heart of fire as she crooned away,

“Jisko bhi dekhoon duniya bhula doon Majnu bana doon aisi main laila or mohabbat ka jisko tareeqa na aaya Usse zindagi ka saleeka na aaya."

Every jamming session in the country till date goes wild with this number.

And the new one, the lesser said the better. It has a vulgarly swaying Yana Gupta (with the pelvic thrusts and the works), whose dress designer plagiarized munnis outfit. And the lyrics, well lesser said the better.

Pray tell me, why music directors and film-makers can’t create their own music and screw them, if they have to screw it. Why can’t they just let old melodies and movies be? Did no one tell them that classics shouldn’t be messed with, cult shouldn’t be re-created? Classics are meant to be enjoyed and revered in their original form. It’s like putting a “kanchivaram sari” through a shredding machine and making a sequined sari out of it (oh I detest the sequin and stones in saris). Only bling and no substance!

But am told given the country’s penchant and love for remixes it’s going to be a hit. Sad but true, this is called Mcdonalization of music :(

Can we save the Girl Child?

The entire country is buzzing with the World cup victory and one can smell celebration in the air! It’s come back after 28 years, a Big Big achievement.

All other news has taken backseat and some completely missed, one such news completely forgotten is the latest Census. Maybe, we should have waited instead of releasing it with the World cup, or, maybe it was a deliberate ploy to ensure it was missed.

The latest Census data release shows that child sex ratio has been the worst since independence - http://www.hindu.com/2011/04/02/stories/2011040258311400.htm

“a steep fall in the child sex ratio, which measures the number of girls for every 1,000 boys in the 0-6 years age group. The sex ratio in the 0-6 age group has been continually declining since 1961 but the fall from 927.31 in 2001 to 914.23 in 2011 is the worst since Independence.”

And this is the naked face of the emerging global power called “India.” The new, youthful India, which is on a fast track to be a global power, either kills its daughters after they are born, or kills them in the womb, or even worse with advanced technology, increase in purchasing power and affluence decides that it’s going to be boy even before conception - http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2011-03-27/man-woman/28353447_1_baby-boy-boy-child-girl-child

Reports say that fertility centres in Thailand provide PGD (Preimplantation Genetic Diagnosis) - In medicine and (clinical) genetics pre-implantation genetic diagnosis (PGD or PIGD) (also known as embryo screening) refers to procedures that are performed on embryos prior to implantation, sometimes even on oocytes prior to fertilization. The technique can be used to determine the gender of the embryo, and thus can be used to select embryos of one gender in preference of the other in the context of “family balancing”. It may be possible to make other "social selection" choices in the future.

And these centers get at least 3 Indian couples every month with requests for baby boys. For less than 5, 00,000 rupees; you can ensure that you don’t have a daughter. The fate of the girl child population has never been bleaker. The diminishing girl child population is messing up with the population equilibrium and needless to say that this could have serious consequences. The bride trading, importing, reselling of wives and men from the same family sharing a bride are concepts in the northern states of rural India will soon be a reality in the urban India and rest of India.

The news piece also says “It is no surprise that the overall sex ratio (number of females for every 1,000 males) has shown improvement, from 932.91 in 2001 to 940.27 in 2011; a good part of this can be explained by the greater natural longevity of women and improvements in health care over the years.” So if we women do survive it has nothing to do with the society rooting for us. It is our own genetic dispositions to fight and survive.

Is there a way out of this situation? I don’t think so; the desire for a name inheritor is so strong that a male child is a must in most parts of the country and worst in the North & West. Also the customs of dowry and expenditure on a daughter’s wedding make most people shudder in our country. Surprisingly, these same people don’t blink an eye-lid while spending equivalent or more amount on a son’s education or exorbitant marriages. Am not justifying dowry here, only explaining that if money expenditure is the fear, then giving birth to boy should be equally feared.

I believe the government is doing a lot to “Save the Girl Child” but that LOT is clearly not enough. The country’s disposition towards the male child is slowly evolving into a mad-frenzy. The dark side of this frenzy is that is that we don’t want daughters but we do want daughter-in-laws to bring in our next-generation of male "waaris."

So as if it is not bad enough that we are killing our daughters, we are also trading other people daughters for just procreation purposes, read this “In the conservative Jat-dominated Mathanhail village, the skewed sex ratio is forcing many young men to marry from outside the state.“The main problem of less women is we are finding it difficult to get our sons married, ” said 50-year-old Krishna, whose two sons in their 20s have been unable to find suitable matches. “So we have to now get girls from Bihar, Jharkhand, Bengal, Orissa.... This is leading to further cultural problems.” Naresh, who uses only one name and married Sunita from Jharkhand two years ago, said: “I faced a big problem. There were no women. I couldn’t get married till I was over 30, when we got Sunita from another state.”They now have a one-month-old daughter.“I got married around two years ago and have managed to now learn the customs and language,” said Sunita. “But it is very different here as compared to where I am from. I have to cover my face. It wasn’t so strict there. It is more conservative here.”

There seems to be way around everything, don’t want girls, kill them after birth or before birth, don’t want abortion ensure you have boys even before conception, don’t have brides buy, share & re-sell them.

And if even 1/4th the money and energy that the government is spending on the cricketers had been spend on stricter & relevant reforms for the Girl child maybe the picture would have been different. And yes, it does make me a Sour Puss as Phoenixritu says :)