Family Outings

I know that a month's mind mass is not exactly cause for celebration, but I will admit that it gave me a chance to catch up with one half of my family, and that turned out to be fun. I met many of my mum's relatives who I don't see often because they are scattered around the city - mostly Thane, or in Chembur, Andheri and the likes. Although one of my cousins Romel will put it down to the fact that "Bandra people" (pronounced: Bandruh) never move their butts out of their beloved suburb, and I have to admit that he's partially right.

After smiling benignly through the usual "my how you've grown!", "she looks just like you, Katy" and "you young people are so busy nowadays, we never see you around", it was quite cool to catch up with the aunts/uncles and my own extended cousins. I've found out my mum, Rhea's mum and I share really similar features with a large number of women in the extended family (yeah I know, 'genetics, DUH' but still). After spinning around and thinking "Hey! She looks alot like me!" about God knows how many people, I just gave up.

It was also pretty easy getting to know my second/third cousins because many of them are my age and doing pretty interesting things with their lives, so catching up with them wasn't so awkward. Hell, come to think of it, up to now, I've only gotten to really know my dad's side of the family, since most of them stay in and around Bandra. My mum's side of the family/friends was reserved for major functions like weddings. Plus, they have children with interesting pursuits like photography (which gave me the first photos of my self that I really liked!), drumming, short film making etc.

Picture-taker Romel's work

Now that I know them better, it hopefully won't be so hard to keep in touch. I feel a warm fuzzy feeling of content spreading through me.... or was that the cheese cake?

Not exactly "mum's side" but what the hell!!

All The World's A Dustbin

Over the past few months, I've become increasingly angry at the sight of people littering public spaces. The way I see it, all those Environmental Education Classes and posters that instruct you to "Keep Mumbai Clean and Green" are a complete waste (no pun intended) because people just don't seem to get the message.

I am not an eco-fascist, nor am I trying to reiterate the "India's such a damned dirty country and nothing can be done about it" stance that a lot of people seem to have. I just have an issue with people who refuse to CLEAN UP after themselves. Apart from appreciating the aesthetic value of a "Don't Litter" sign, it seems to have NO instructive value to people for whom clearing up after yourself doesn't seem worth their time.

This is not a rant based on random incidences I've come across. I see it every single day. For example, Kavita and I will walk down to Andora's for a cup of coffee, only to find that every table is covered with wrappers/coffee cups/tissues. This, inspite of there a being a dustbin 6 feet away big enough to fit a baby beluga into. The same thing happens at MacDonald's from time to time. "Self Service" dammit... it means you order it yourself, pay for it yourself, and clear it yourself!!

The way I see it, I have three options:
1. say nothing, do nothing, and then fume about it.
2. say nothing, do something after they leave and fume about it.
3. give them an earful and hope for the best (this never works and I personally don't like to use it except when someone REALLY deserves it).
4. politely mention that they might have ..er.. 'accidently' dropped a tissue/cigarette butt and hope for the best.

More often than not its options 2 and 4. The strange part, is that the most unrepentant litterers are often the affluent sort - wrappers thrown from Honda Accords, face wipes left on the basins of swish restaurants, stubs left on the floor of a cafe. Does being rich excuse people from having a civic sense?

I certainly don't expect that magical things will happen, like waking up and finding that Mumbai looks a lot like Barcelona (sigh ... :) ). But it would be nice if the 'clean-up after yourself' advocates weren't looked upon as a bunch of freaks whose ultimate aim in life is to save the rainforests, and if people realized that the "Please Use Dustbin" sign does not come with a "If You Feel Like It" clause attached.

Ahh, Genius

"This is a god that walks as man."
- Comedian Mike Myers, on Freddie Mercury

In Limbo

I HATE waiting for stuff to happen, and being one of the most competent procrastinators around, the combination is driving me CRAZY... I could start work with HT on Monday, but now that MagicWorks has called, I don't know what to do.

The production line is more interesting and supposedly pays better, but the work hours are pathetic and once you jump onto that bandwagon, there's not much time for anything else. I can see that from Ruch's work hours and my own CNBC work-ex. On the other hand, there's HT, which is definitely more laid back, has better working hours even if the pay scale isnt so great to start with. But something tells me that choosing the harder option will be better in the long run. I just don't know if I'm right.

Now that classes are done for the year, I have not much to do except study till the exams, so that won't take up too much time anyway. All I know is if I don't get off my ass and start working soon, I'm going to lose it. Plus all this free time has unwittingly honed my whining/nagging/brooding/being a crank skills.

AAAARRGHHHHHHHHH!!

Noddy Rules

I was just reading a couple of thought-provoking articles about Enid Blyton today, which talk about the thread of 'covert racism and sexism' that runs through her work. A cartload of critics recommend booting her off childrens' reading lists, because her stories apparently 'portray certain communities in a derogatory light'.

For example, Africans and Asians in the Gollywog, excessively girlish characters like Annie in the Famous Five and excessively boyish female characters like George (who according to some smart-ass critic had the "severest case of penis envy" in literary history).

However, as much as I still love her work, I have to agree that going back and reading her books is a mixed bag. Many 'characters' are actually caricatures, and barely cover the bare skeletons of age-old stereotypes. Like, when I went back and read Malory Towers, I was stunned at how bluntly the French boarder Claudine is 'lazy and untidy', and the American girl whatsername, is 'brazen and ill mannered'. All this is while clearly contrasting them with the 'well brought up, disciplined women' that Britain produces. Really? Then HOW do you explain Liz Whore-ley?

In a similar vein, most of the children in the Secret Seven Series, Faraway Tree, are a bunch of goody two-shoes who are now so annoying that I instinctively want to hurt them. And don't even get me started on the Famous Five - it just fries me that George is shown as more independent/smarter than Annie, simply because she wants to be a boy. Calling her 'George' instead of her real name 'Georgina' only underlines this fact. I was pretty much like 'George' when I was a kid (as hard as this is to believe, it IS true), except that I never wanted to BE a boy - or be called Larry, for that matter.

In a way, I think EB is being lampooned not so much for attempting to derogate other communities as much as for failing to deviate from the aged British social norms that already lorded it over the rest of the world, literally. In this age of Postcolonialism and multi-ethnicity, the old-fashioned white male absolutes just don't cut it anymore.

I know this sounds like my English Lit background talking (I can already imagine my mum panicking and reaching for her passport, in anticipation of one of my dreaded "Hey ma, you wanna know what we learnt in lit class today?" discourses).

But I'm pretty sure all this stuff would have struck me even if I wasn't doing Lit. Hell, Enid Blyton's books are actually picking fields for eager psychology students (Kavs?) and feminist/postcolonial theorists. So I'm not alone.

What really strikes me, is that if I go back and read one of Roald Dahl's books, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Matilda or Witches (one of my all-time favourites), I don't have the same sense of "Oh my God, he's so sexist/racist, I didn't notice it the first time". Which is not to say he is completely free from prejudices, but I still think the only "ist" he consciously prescribes to is "anti-grownup-ist". I mean, who else can describe the Queen of England (yes, the living one) "whizpoping" and get away with it?

I think it's because he's so overtly gross and disgusting and so clearly revels in it that any other element just fades into the background. I still remember the part in 'Witches' where he writes that witches can sniff out clean children because they smell like dogs droppings... hah!! Advocating every child's dream - the muddier and ickier you are, the safer you are too (I gather from this that Kavita's and my mudbaths insure us for life).

Which is not to say that Enid Blyton is not cool anymore. Oh no. If you can look past some of the more obviously cloying things, there's still a lot of great stuff. For one, the woman writes BRILLIANT escapist literature. The idea of magic lands at the top of the Faraway Tree is fantastic. Kavita will recall clearly one of my 'inspired' notions that the chickoo tree contained a "Pixie Highway", all this in the pre-alcohol days. And her descriptions of food still make me drool - buttered scones, ginger ale, fruitcake... damn, why wasn't I one of the Five Find-Outers?

There's got to be something to an author who can (posthumously) face a whole storm of blood-thirsty critics, and still emerge a popular choice not only in the UK, but in places like India, where the 'propah' British way of life is pretty much an alien concept. I guess she's like RK Narayan, who face the same kind of criticism for fetishizing small town India, but is a demigod in this country anyway. Which is why, while critics are scrapping over EB's politically incorrect 'Golliwog' character in Noddy, I'll be too busy reading 'The Faraway Tree' to notice.

Bureaucracy and Other White Elephants

"Bureaucracy is the art of making the possible impossible" - Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach

If you're ever having a bad day and feel like making it worse, there's nothing like a brief tango with Indian bureaucracy - sheer, mind numbingly inane protocol in all its glory. There's so much of it here I swear you'd need to create another country simply to justify its existence. I wouldn't be casting aspersions on their efficiency if it hadn't been for some fist clenchingly annoying experiences I had recently (ok, maybe I would anyway). I mean, how does something that's been created to make sure you get your work done efficiently succeed in doing the very opposite?

I've realized that their modus operandi is pretty simple, it goes something like this:
1. Don't ever, ever, answer the phone. Phones were never meant for communication in the first place, oh no. If they do happen to make that mistake, it's quickly rectified by empty promises of "yes, yes, madem, absolutely, definitely we will come tomorrow and fix the problem". Which is the last you'll ever hear of them.

2. If there is no problem, make one up - a spelling error, wrong number, etc. Here's an example – My full name is: Lorraine Rodrigues. Their interpretation: Lanren Randrigj.
Lanren? Randrigj? I mean, how? what? I'm rendered speechless by their imaginations.

3. If all else fails, throw an application form at the unsuspecting innocent. This will create enough confusion to keep them occupied for days (enough time to think of a back up plan).

If you're wondering how an innocuous form can wreck so much havoc, think again. These aren't your average Name/Address/Telephone Number sheets. Oh no. These forms have been especially designed to envelop the reader with a growing sense of a) stupidity and b) hopelessness (unless you're my Dad, who on reading it will proceed to fill it up with the air of a professional form-filler). On the form that I filled - or tried to - to enlist as a voter, the instructions read something like:
AC2 number and name: ______
Authentication for issue of EPIC (to be filled by ERO rep): _____
EPIC details: _______

At the end of which there is a tiny $ sign that confidently states - 'PC number is for Union Territories NOT having Legislative Assemblies'. Oh sure, I say, good for them. This unenthusiastic approach only results in the loss of cool by my Dad, who snatches away the forms and stomps off, muttering all the while about my incompetence in all matters of protocol (among other things).

There should be a law against this. Any form that asks for more than your name, address and telephone number should be charged with unwanted nosiness, and those found guilty of it should be consigned to 3 years of filling out Voter Election Cards and muddling through the bureaucratic process on behalf of people like me. That should show them.

Symphomania

For classical music fans like me, this past week has been heaven. Reason? The Symphony Orchestra of India's rehearsing every single day at the NCPA, for the concerts they're putting up this week.

And being the unemployed-hence-broke-music-loving-cheapskates that we are, Kavs and I have made regular appearances at most of the rehearsals upto now. Aided by the enthusiasm of one very helpful Mr. Jimmy Bilimoria, we've become these almost permanent fixtures in the audi. Considering there are just two of us filling up an audi of 800 seats, its pretty hard not to notice us. Queries as to why we aren't attending the actual "concert" in the evening reveal vague answers about coming up exams, journals, "prior commitments", etc. which are all technically true, but, you know....

Ah, well. If being a liar and a cheapskate gets me all that music, it's quite worth it. Listening to a piece on your comp/music player, however sophisticated, is NOTHING compared to hearing it live, with a seventy musician strong orchestra straining their violin -and heart- strings to recreate an exquisite work of art, in that moment. And it helps when the conductor is a scraggly-haired French speaking Russian or better still, an English speaking German with the countenance of a cheerful burghermeister.

The strange thing is, as elitist and 'pretentious' (ask rohbit @ www.rohbit.tk) as this activity might sound, I'm convinced that most people, even those whose classical music vocab doesn't extend beyond 'oh, you mean Mozart and Beethoven' would really enjoy listening to this stuff once in a while. Hell, you have it as elevator music and as your ringtone, listening to the real thing wouldn't hurt. People might even start to (gasp!) ask for more.

Which would be a welcome change from all the unjustified airspace given to Britney-i-forgot-my-underwear-Spears and the likes. I could go on about this gross miscarriage of justice till I turn purple in the face, but that's a not pretty sight, so i won't. Now if someone would only strangle Ms.Spears with their violin strings, this world would be a much better place...