Pati, Patni or Woe

Horror of horrors, while channel surfing the other day, guess what I chanced upon - a programme titled ‘Pati, Patni aur Woh’, for those in the dark, this is not a sleazy serial about the ‘other woman’. On the contrary, the ‘who’ here is a baby, more specifically some one else’s. And 5 celebrity (from the channel’s perspective, though you can hardly call them that) couples take care of them for a certain period. As usual you have CCTV cameras all over the house, et la, Big Boss, and every movement of the foster parents with the babies are monitored.

What made this whole farce even more hilarious is that the fourth estate preferred to have mundane asinine debates on issues such as Mumbai being referred to as Bombay, in a recent movie. For God’s sakes, people are handing over their toddlers, tiny babies, not even a year old, to complete strangers with no experience whatsoever in baby care or even marriage, for that matter, and are making money out of it. And I am not talking about public residing below the poverty line. Initially on reading publicity material for the show, I thought people from that stratum of society would be the only ones willing to offer their children for such macabre exercises. But on watching the show, I noticed all the families were not slum-dwellers like I presumed they would be, but from well to do, supposedly Sindhi-Punjabi couples.

As the weeks progressed, the toddlers were replaced by older children, and the woes continued.

Waiting to see some group that comes forward to put a stop to this facade. Is anyone listening???

Swinvelling Flu!!!

The past few weeks have seen Mumbai’s infallible spirit take a severe beating. Not being from Mumbai myself, I have always been in awe of the “never say die” attitude inherent to all Mumbaites. Be it the train blasts or 26/11 terrorist attacks, even the July 24th flood a couple of years back, the average turnaround time for a Mumbaite after any of disaster, man-made or natural, is about 4 days top. But that is not the case this time. People were walking around with masks, schools were shut down, people were actually “apprehensive” (if that word even exists in a typical Mumbai mind) about going to work, and when you have all the time in the world, gadzooks, the malls shut down (can you believe it, they actually were shut down for a few days). That too immediately after the multiplex owners and movie producers strike got over.

Well now the scare seems to have abated albeit an occasional report on a H1N1 death. We were all beginning to think there was no end to this, it seemed to be the new AIDS, or Ebola virus - you catch it and you’re a goner. ;-)

It, however, gave some idle minds (such as yours truly) food for thought. We could have endless discussions on the subject and how the Govt and people are working around it, out of town friends calling/emailing to enquire about your well being. Now, it’s back to being jobless. And am not sure if it’s that time of the year, but I seem to be getting pretty frustrated at my unemployed status. Other than the occasional freelance work that trickles in, my kitty is very much dry. So what do I do you ask, I do the boldest thing ever, I write to my ex-employer asking for freelance work. This is a big step, as I hadn’t even given a thought to working with TIS again.

So folks, I send a mail today, and please wish me luck.

Housing

Today something sad happened; we tore down a home, a bird’s home. It was inside our AC and the servicewallas just pulled it out and threw it in the dustbin, without even looking for eggs or chicks (thankfully it was empty). The mother bird (or at least that’s what I think it was) started screeching and generally creating a flutter right outside, but to no avail.

Anyway, the AC cleaned and reinstated, we all went about our regular duties, that’s when I noticed a full-page advertisement for TATA Housing in the day’s Mumbai Mirror. It was in Hindi, simple, touching and very heartfelt. You must read it if you can, for one, it’s rare to catch a Hindi print advertisement in an English daily and secondly, it was brutally honest, recounting the feelings of one who stays in a house not owned by him.

It felt good to know there are such people in the world who feel indebted to give back to society, Ratan Tata is definitely one such person and God bless his soul.

The Choices We Have

I was watching a Hindi movie the other day “Chasme Badhur”, I think set in the 70’s. Life was so simple, not too much money, opulence or choices. That’s when I realized, the root of most of our problems these days—choices, we have too many choices. It wasn’t this way 2 decades ago, even when we were kids, I mean u had fewer choices, for example, when u had to buy a cycle, there were maybe 2 at the most 3 brands out there. But now, it's just numerous, as in the case of motorcycles, cars, refrigerators, u name it.

Maybe we ought to go back to dictatorships, where the way they had it was (this friend from an ex-communist country once told me), one day cycles would come into the market and you heard announcements, so people who wanted cycles ran out and got them. Similarly for some other luxury items in those days, for example, cheese (yes, can u believe it), she used to tell me when she was a kid, maybe in the early 70’s there was just one variety of cheese, butter and all that.

It's one of those days, where everything upsets you. The irritating person next to you on the bus, your inlaws (actually mine are rarely this way), the inability to find something u need in the stores, so on and so forth. I was supposed to pick up a costume for Mani's fancy dress competition the day after tmrw, and this other mother (we travel together from school) kept badgering me as to y i wudn't rent a costume from the place she suggested (which is also from where half the other mothers are renting costumes). Plssssssssssss is there contractual agreement, "it is illegal to rent/buy costumes/accessories/etc from any place, other than the one suggested by Mrs. ...." I thought this was a democracy. Anyway,, I was running late for picking up the costume and then i get a call from home, the pest control guys r there and I am required immediately. some days, I tell you. I rein in the initial volley of abuses bursting to come out of my mouth and inform in laws that I am on my way and will b home ASAP. The oppressive heat plus me tugging along 2 oversized bags (mine gym and Mani's school) , a screaming a kicking Mani , walk into a stuffy shop (under construction with cement and debris flying around).

I come home with the elephant costume (Mani wudnt settle for anythin else), and got the pest control done. The costume I realized after coming home, was so worn out and dirty, Mani wud require a tetanus shot before even getting into it. Anyway, several attempts to scrub the dirt off the once-white-and-now-mud-colored tusks, were in vain. My spirits sank even lower.
I realised my mood swings must be thanx to PMS.

I ran over a zillion options (all very cumbersome) on how to whiten the tusks in my mind, when i chanced upon my neighbour, who very casually mentioned that I should use white shoe polish over it, and even better, she would lend it 2 me.

the whitewashed tusks looked gr8. and i also applied a deep maroon nail polish i bought today and everything looked fabulous. to top it all i dug out a CD with episodes of Sex and the City that i had never seen.

sometimes in this world, there is poetic justice.!!!!