Quick note

Thank-you to everyone for the wishes on the Hello Beautiful post. For those who might not know, Indian blogger network IndiBlogger alongwith Dove and Yahoo! held a blogging contest called "What is real beauty?" The post I submitted (surprisingly) ended up winning the first prize. I'm pretty excited because it was absolutely unexpected. And welcome. :)

I might be somewhat infrequent here for a very short bit -- unless I can manage my time better and post something -- as I have a deadline pending. My publisher's finally had enough. I better get my butt moving. 

PS: There are some really well-written posts on the beauty issue here, check them out.

Friday bookslutting

It's amazing the number of times it has happened to me; logging on to write one post, starting to read some other stuff, then following links and ending up with a completely different post. 'Reflective analysis' was a course subject for my Masters; you were supposed to reflect on your practice and I just couldn't get my head around it. I scored dismally in it. I think I can explain it much better now -- where an idea originates, how it changes into something totally else and how it influences whatever it is you are 'creating' -- and I'd do it without a bloody bibliography or deep-breathing exercises. We were made to do both in class. Most of the yoga-time was spent twittering (the real thing as against wrongly used synonym for tweeting) with these two Italian boys I was really fond of*. One was on a study visa like me and another was an Australian-of-Italian-descent, both quite gorgeous. Sigh. Anyway, now one of them is part of a band and I'd really like to see them perform. (*Fond of = in a hey-you're-fun kind of way, I was attached to Partner then as I am now).

Paranoia

I didn't know her in college. But I saw a picture where she had the kind of waist-line I could kill for. And had I known her then, perhaps would have hated her for it. I got to know her -- not really -- through her blog. Even went to her house for dinner once with Partner. And I remember her Brat. He had that smile that makes you want to smile. No matter how pissed off you are. Sometimes her posts piss me off. I will not go into reasons now. Sometimes they echo what I think. Sometimes they make me wonder about the starkness with which she writes. I don't think she is perfect, but if there's someone flawed doing a damn good job of things -- fumbling, learning, screaming, loving -- perhaps it's her. Especially since we are the same age and she has two children. I loved this post. Not because of the happy ending but because it scared me to bits.

stuff that hides

(Republished without permission, please go here for more such)

Tears and stuff

Things got a bit intense last evening.

I walked in on my daughter watching a re-run of Jungle Book 2 on television. You know it. Mowgli rediscovers his old friends in the jungle, after discovering hormones in the man-village. My daughter was crying because Mowgli knew he had to return to mankind, and Baloo the bear was giving him a hug to make it easier.

‘Why aren’t you crying?’ My daughter asked me. She was pouring tears. ‘It’s so sad and happy at the same time.’

So I cried a little. I was surprised at how easily the tears came.

We sat there, sniffling, pre-teen daughter and middle-aged father, as the credits rolled up. It felt good to know that in her eyes I wasn’t a wimp.

Happy Pujo!

And on this Durga pujo I realise that Mohammad was always meant to go to the mountain. Always, even if it meant on youtube.com. Almost three years after an emotionally distraught denouncement of Durga, this Mohammad came crawling back... or trawling back. It was a friend's status update on Facebook, "That time of the year, waiting for the sound of the dhak," that got me by the gut and twisted so hard, I had to hear the dhak for myself.

I've never had the padha (colony/street) experience when growing up. Never been part of a 'cultural committee' that puts together the Durga pujo, of kids who participate in the evenings' entertainment, of young girls who help their mothers prepare stuff. I've always been the 'only visiting' variety. I've pandal-hopped with my parents, bowed and prayed before various idols and gone home. I've also never been in Calcutta/Kolkata for a pujo.

The most spectacular pujo and Ma-er mukh* I remember is from a pandal in west Delhi's Nivedita Colony. I was perhaps 12 years old and she was beautiful. We also had the most amazing kosha mangsho. What had captivated me though was the dhunuchi dancers and the trance inducing beats of the dhak they danced to. The girls were older, perhaps 18, amazingly graceful in their wide-padh sarees and they danced with so much rhythm, so much beauty... I wanted to join them. We didn't watch to see the whole thing because... for various reasons.

Ever since -- at different ages -- I've had a favourite dream sequence of doing a kickass dhunuchi dance, in a lost temple by myself with the most-beautiful Durga idol, huge torches on the walls and the biggest, loudest dhaks ever. I am in a white-sari-with-lal-border, a huge bindi, lots of kajal, hair open, sheathed in perspiration and I don't have a care in the world or awareness of anyone or anything else. And no one can stop me, laugh at me, ask me to go back home and I have no inhibitions about how I look or how my body moves. I'm aware only of the dhak that leads me. And I dance and jump and twirl and leap and collapse in a heap. I'm forgiven. Very filmi but I am very filmi and I love it and I love the dream and each time I hear the dhak, I know I'm going to dream again. (grin)

(Click for details about pujo in Melbourne --->)
The Nivedita Colony pujo is the last 'proper' pujo I remember. The next was in Kalimpong, me 14 in 'love' with a Bengali boy of the same age. And we all met at the pandal, he met my parents too and I hoped in my heart that he would be the man I marry. Ha ha, so silly, so innocent. Of course soon after I found out he was chasing a girl two years older, very beautiful, very fair etc. I don't recollect being heartbroken, I was definitely furious.

The subsequent Durga pujos are fuzzy, the ones in Amritsar involved going to the Army-arranged pujo, nothing spectacular, but the bhog as usual was delicious. Then I was in Delhi, the first year without my parents, in 'love' again, 21-years-old, standing before Ma's idol in Chittaranjan Park with much-older boyfriend, me a two-year-old journalist, dreaming of making a difference and happy I had a man and a career. The boyfriend had his wallet pickpocketed. And of course the relationship ended with much learning and serious heartbreak.

Repeat that story -- without the pickpocketing -- over five more years till 2006. The earth moved, I had many experiences I'd never intended having and my personal resume read of things that had earlier been on the list of bad things that could happen to me. Strangely -- and almost scripted -- the culmination was around Pujo time. So I told myself (and Durga), I wouldn't see her face again. Ever. I didn't go for pushpanjali. Didn't return phonecalls or 'happy pujo' wishes and avoided Durga. I tried sneaking a peek at her in newspapers yet eerily enough and despite the usual coverage in the media, I couldn't see her face that year. Not even a picture.

2007, due to stranger circumstances I was back at the Chit Park pandal. And I ran away. And life changed drastically and put me in Melbourne before the next year's pujo. I cried a lot last year. Didn't do anything on pujo, sat at home, blogged (of course) and cursed my stupidity at various levels. It was same with every other Indian festival in 2008. But I did promise not to repeat it in 2009. I might have left India but I don't want to leave India behind me.

I am not ashamed of my country. I am not confused about who I am and I know what I want. If those experiences will not just 'happen' to me, I shall seek them out. So this year, I should be at Oakleigh Street on October 4th. And maybe, I'll have a little dance with the dhak.

Happy Pujo all of you, particularly the ones outside India. Warm hugs and good wishes. And see this video, it is so, so beautiful. Many thanks to the creators.
*Ma-er mukh: Mother's face, reference to the face of Durga
PS: For the over-enlightened, non-Indians who'd wonder why Indians pray to gods with many arms, it's the same reason why say, Catholics pray to someone who turned water into wine.

Cancer

So Patrick Swayze passes away, aged 57, after two years of combating pancreatic cancer. One of the Aussie TV channels here showed a clip from his last interview (by Barbara Walters, ABC) where the interviewer asks his wife Lisa, "Have you thought of life without him?" Lisa tried to answer but choked up.

That question disturbed me a little. Scared me. Has any of us thought of life without the ones we love? There are those who lose people to sudden death. Then there are those like Lisa, who know someone they love is dying. Is it easier when you know?

Writers Festival Blog

This might not be that big, but it feels good nonetheless. Emancipation of Eve finds a teensy mention -- along with a host of other blogs -- on the Melbourne Writers Festival blog. :) Check it out and check out the other blogs/bloggers as well here.

Thanks to the organisers for giving us a mention.

Of (book)slut and searching rape

Other than the date mix-up where I missed the Fables and Fantasy reading, I've attended two sessions at the Melbourne Writers Festival. One was a sham-of-a-discussion about marketing in the digital age and another was a really good workshop about independent publishers (small press publishing), Amazon's arm-wrestling tactics and integrating online-offline ventures.

The digital marketing talk/discussion was too short and involved the rep from publishing giant RandomHouse shamelessly selling his products/projects and blog-to-website case study, Jessa Crispin of Bookslut being so irritatingly laconic, it was a joke she was there at all. The only person who added some sort of value was Adam Noonan from Lonely Planet. Details about both events in another post.

One of the topics that came up in the digital marketing talk was Search Engine Optimisation (SEO); it got me looking into the statistics for this blog... Where are people coming from, what are they reading, how much are they reading etc. And the results worry me.

Yesterday, I put up that silly 'sex post'. It had nothing in it. The headline was "hot sex positions". The blog got 234 total readers and 437 page loads. Sex sells (shrug). Even on days this blog is not updated -- or the months it isn't! -- or has posts on books or other non-sex-things, there are still about 100-150 readers who come in.... It should make me happy. It does not.

According to my blog's stats, the three most popular posts -- that people search for and come here -- involve child abuse, rape and women's undergarments. And none of those people were/are looking to read a lecture.

1. Rape post: Rape and how to get away with it in India (click to read)
Written in Feb 2008 as a reaction to the increasing number of rape cases being reported in the media and the increasing number of rapes in New Delhi. However, my question is: Are those searching for "rape" or clicking on the Digg.com link to that post (thankyou whoever) coming in to read about why NOT to rape a woman or for some other reason?

2. Child abuse: I am busty teen writing about my first time
This was one of the earlier posts on the blog, written in 2006 after a particularly harrowing conversation with someone close, someone who had been abused. She still remains confused about it, was she abused? Or did she invite it?

What disturbs me now is that people/men/women come in to read that article expecting something salacious about teenage girls. Usual searches that point to that piece include keywords "busty", "15 year old busty teen" or "teen girl naked".

3. Morality and double standards: Bra, brazen and bolti bandh
Written in June 2008 in response to certain Indian right-wing political parties declaring that Indian women wearing jeans was "anti-Indian". The post questioned the Indian moral police and was one of the episodes in the Mishraji stories. However, people click on that link because it has "bra" in it; and some are searching for naked pictures of the actress Rambha.

I am not complaining about search engines pointing to my blog, some people perhaps stay on, read, perhaps come back. What scares me is that people are searching for rape and abuse. That.

AAAAARGH.

This is turning out to be an idiot week for me. I am SO furious and I'm more furious because there's no one else to be furious at but me. I am... gaaaaaaaaaaah.

So I have this stupid white board on which I supposedly write down important dates, things to do and such like. And so I marked, in bold, with a circle around it, 22nd August, ie, today to go to the Australian Centre for Moving Images (ACMI). The Melbourne Writers Festival kicked off yesterday and I was booked in for three events. Two are next week and this one I paid for and really wanted to attend.










Pics (l-r): Authors Tom Cho, Antoni Jach and Cyril Wong (Courtesy MWF)

It was called 'Fable, Fantasy and the New Short Story' with authors Tom Cho and Cyril Wong, and chaired by author Antoni Jach. So I rush to ACMI today, reach on time am very excited. Only for the guard to look at the ticket and tell me it was yesterday. He was right. I was stumped.

I am SO stupid. For the last two days I have been discussing and reading up on author Alice Pung -- for other reasons and who's event was today -- and while thinking of Pung and wanting to for Fantasy managed to write the wrong f*****g date on the white board.

I am SO upset. :(

Muggle-smuggling confuses jailers?

Did you know that 'muggle' -- before Harry Potter -- was a slang term for marijuana? And 'Twitter' was related to chopping up whales?

I am in shock, more due to the muggle association than with the whaling one. Before the muggle though, here's the bit about the whale...

For those who don't know the Twitter-whale association, here goes the story. Website cnet.com reports, "Whenever Twitter's servers take a tumble ... the microblogging service brings up an image of a whale being lifted out of the water by a flock of birds." This image -- now reaching iconic levels -- is popularly known as the Fail Whale and was created by designer Yiying Lu.

According to cnet.com, which quotes the New Bedford Whaling Museum, 'twitter' once "referred to an obscure piece of sperm whale anatomy that was typically only encountered when whalers were chopping up one of the unfortunate creatures." Ironic that the Fail Whale reaches iconic status after being used on Twitter. Read full story

As for the Muggle bit; all of you should know that in Harry Potter books, 'Muggle' means non-wizard people, ie, you and me (alas). However, a news article on Times magazine's website shows that in 1931, Muggle meant marijuana/ganja/pot. To quote Times.com, "In New Orleans many a schoolchild is said to be an addict; prison authorities find muggle-smuggling a perplexing problem."

Wonder if JK Rowling knew that...
Disclaimer: The image of Harry Potter is from Sidecar Sally; the author of this website did not create the image.

Write India?

What is it about internationally acclaimed books from India or by Indian authors? Or as more is the case today, books by authors of Indian origin?

For long such books have either been about a post-colonial hangover with the British Raj (rule), or about Non Resident Indian reminiscing about home or (as of recently), the ABCD* Handbook to Criticising India.
(*ABCD = American Born Confused Desi, where 'desi' means native)

The 2008 Booker of Bookers winner Midnight's Children (Salman Rushdie), the 2008 Man Booker winner White Tiger (Aravind Adiga), the 2000 Pulitzer winner Interpreter of Maladies (Jhumpa Lahiri) and even the 1996-Booker shortlisted, A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry) falls into either one of those categories.

All these writers and their books are also clubbed under the category of 'Indian Writing in English'. Whether the 'Indian' refers to writing originating from the country or a native of the country is suspect. 'Indian Writing in English'. Strange, we don't have Spanish/Spaniard Writing in English or Italian Writing in English or French Writing in English. Perhaps because some critics find the language by Indian authors tedious, constructed and flowery'...

Then there are writers like Shobhaa De (Superstar India), Advaita Kala (Almost Single) and blog-to-books recent entry, Meenakshi Madhavan Reddy (You Are Here). 'Irreverent' is the over-used adjective for their writing. While Ms De is a senior when it comes to writing and successfully stirring controversy -- she is also consistent on the best-seller lists -- the other two writers are newbies. By newbie standards, Madhavan has been around and writing -- in the blogosphere at least -- for much longer than Kala. Their writing is also being heralded as the face of "the brave, new world of the young of our times". I have not yet read You Are Here (expectant); but I have read Almost Single (cringe).

Going by what Khushwant Singh and book reviews have to say about Madhavan's book and what I read in Kala's: Is their portrayal the real, new India?

Why does portrayals of India either have to do with slums or sluts? Yes, we do drink, smoke, dance, f**k and start earning much earlier than the older generation(s) used to.... but is that all to us? And if there is more to us, why the hell isn't anyone writing about it and why's no one publishing it?

What, according to you, is the best representation of India in a fiction/non-fiction book? Also, if you read review blogs that focus on Indian books/authors, share the link.

PS: And I strongly disagree to respected Khushwant Singh saying, "...I doubt if I would admit she was related to me" about Madhavan's book.
I am sorry Mr Singh, those are rotten, double standards. Or is it because Madhavan happens to be a free-speaking, feisty young woman? Your books were far raunchier, in bad taste and pretentious. While you are denying any links to the current generation, we are a fruit of your loins. If the fruit isn't sweet, perhaps the older generation needs to think about it.

PS: Some others seem to take this post as a criticism. Is it? It's more an attempt to understand what's happening with Indian writing/writers from India. As a media student, I find in discussions that somehow people seem to presume that Indian authors can only write about a 'certain' India. And no, I am not an author. It is very hard.

Nominate your favourite blogger!

There are stupid days and then there are days when we (read me) are being extremely stupid. I seem to have stupid weeks. And I leave evidence. Here are some vital statistics of stupid proportions:

1. Number of times I've congratulated women on their "babies" when they don't have babies (some are not even married): 5 times last week

2. Number of times I've completely misunderstood another blogger's point-of-view and left a comment that shows how stupid I am: Undisclosed... but here's one very recent proof...

3. Weight gained in last 7 months: 9 kilos!!!!

4. Number of chocolates eaten in one day: 9, Cadbury's frogs; maybe if they were another shape -- kangaroos or cows -- I would have eaten more.

5. Number of wrong bra purchases, because my size is constantly fluctuating: 4 times since being in Melbourne, which translates into more than $ 400 AUD. No, 'they' are not silicon or helium.

6. Number of times I've made plans to "hang out" with people and then ditched due to legit (or not) reasons: 10 or more

7. Number of times I have whined I-don't-have-friends and then proceeded to do Point No. 6: 20 or more

8. Number of times I've started a list post and stopped because I got bored: Countless, you can count this as one. Can't think of more... But yes, this will be the FIRST time I am going to be nominating my favourite bloggers for the IndiBloggies. Don't know what that is? Read on...


But before that, help me find someone... I saved (<---) this picture from a blog... I can't seem to find the link! I NEED to find that link again...it's a picture from Varanasi and the monkey is called Chhotu... PLEASE SEND ME BLOG NAME IF YOU KNOW THE BLOG! (This is so stupid)

Here goes about IndiBloggies 2008:

Do you read and follow blogs? Do you want to show your appreciation for the blog/bloggers you like? Participate in this! (A copy-paste from the email from IndiBlogger.in)

The Indibloggies is back!

Indibloggies, India’s first and foremost blog awards has unveiled its annual nomination process for the 2008 edition. This is the sixth year of the Indibloggies award, organised by Pune-based blogger Debashish Chakrabarty.

The nominations are open in 17 different award categories for Indian blogs from all around the world until 6th March 2009. At stake are prizes worth more than One Lakh Rupees!

The winners will be announced in the first week of April, 2009.

Pick a category:

1. IndiBlog of the year
2. Best Humanities IndiBlog (IndiBlogs covering Art/Craft/Painting, Hobby, Literature, Poetry/Fiction)
3. Best Entertainment Indiblog (blogs on Music, TV, Movies, theater & fashion)
4. Best Sports IndiBlog
5. Best Science/Technology IndiBlog
6. Best IndiBlog directory/service/clique/network
7. Best Designed IndiBlog (Blogs with original designs or with major visible customizations to existing themes)
8. Best Food/Beverages Indiblog
9. Most Humorous Indiblog
10. Best Indi Podcast/Vidcast
11. Best Travel Indiblog
12. Best New Indiblog (IndiBloggers who began blogging on/after July 1, 2008)
13. Best Photo Indiblog
14. Best Personal Indiblog
15. Best Group/Community Indiblog
16. Best Business Indiblog
17. Best Indi Microblog

Nominate your blogs here: http://nom2008.indibloggies.org/

Blood, beats and the rhythm of rage

Some coincidences in life are funny.

On Monday night, while watching Media Watch, host Jonathan Holmes made me re-think my reaction to SRS (henceforth You-Know-Who). He was blasting off an Australian journalist for her ‘opinion’ column where she suggests beating up members of a political party because she didn’t agree with their opinions. Holmes’ exact quote, “That’s not opinion…that’s hate mongering.” It was pretty much what I had written in the gadha post. It made me re-think my reaction. Even though we are justified in our anger towards You-Know-Who, violence-against-violence is NOT the answer. What then is the answer to fear, frustration, anger and a sense of persecution?

The answer came through a series of coincidences…

Partner was out for an official dinner last night – read, bingeing with the blokes – and I was sitting at home with a massive headache. After losing the throne of Therebor and being beaten by the hordes of Mordor for the eighth time (Xbox 360, The Battle for Middle Earth II), I took my hurt ego and hurting fingers to watching some TV. Now Special Broadcasting Service (SBS) is one of the best channels here. It shows really good documentaries and it’s the only channel that gives equal representation to the multicultural Australia… Australians, Indians, Koreans, Indigenous; it has ‘mixed’ reporters/news readers. So last evening, I came across a documentary on Rio de Janeiro; rather the favelas – shanty towns aka slums – of Rio. It was the drums and music along with the images of dancing, bedraggled children that made me sit up.

It was like looking at Mumbai’s Dharavi again… plastic and human refuse, thatched huts that look like an ugly, mismatched mosaic in aerial shots, dogs and children generally lying around, poverty… and corrupt, corrupt police. While Rio creates images of exotic holidays for most – ignorant me included – there is a prevalent drug culture there. A drug-gang culture. To combat the drug-gangs, Rio has the military police, which can even put Delhi/Mumbai police to shame with its corruption and ruthlessness. If we hear about fake ‘encounter killings’ in Mumbai, the Polícia Militar (literally, military police) – under the garb of flushing out drug-gangsters – is also known to shoot innocent people at “point blank range”… often wrongfully. Or perhaps intentionally, no one can stop them.

The documentary was called ‘Favela Rising’ and was about the Grupo Cultural AfroReggae. Who are AfroReggae?

“…a Brazilian cultural group from Rio de Janeiro. Forged out of the police massacre of 21 people in their local community in 1993, they have gone on to establish an international profile for their pioneering work in taking young people out of the drug/gang culture of Rio de Janeiro’s favelas (shantytowns).”

It’s a cultural group that takes on the police and the drug gangs through… Music. Their songs talk of politics, murder, police, drugs and they dance their desire for life. AfroReggae strongly believes that “hatred breeds violence”. It was stuff out of movies, only this was not fiction: The sheer will power of one man – Anderson Sá, former drug dealer and the man who started AfroReggae in 1995 in the favela, Vigário Geral – to move people, to make a difference. As Anderson’s fiancé says in the documentary, “He is so determined to save the world, he does not think about himself.”

Because, like us, Anderson was and is, pissed off.

21 people assassinated by the police
Our people killed by luck of draw
Hatred breeds violence, I’ve had enough
Yet my pride still resides in Vigario
I love my community
But I’m pissed off.

From the song, I’m Pissed Off, AfroReggae

The people in the favela don’t blame anyone. As one old man said, “We don’t blame the government anymore. We realise that the society, people, the police, religion, us….we all have to do something if we want things to change.” Much like blaming LK Advani, Sonia Gandhi, the gaping economic chasm, Hindiusm and Islam or the billion-plus population of India will not help.

It’s like taking a crap: if you don’t wash your bum, no one else will wash it for you. Or wipe it (Australia, toilet papers here!)

Whether it is media-mongering thugs like You-Know-Who or roadside eve teasers. Blank Noise Project does it’s own peaceful thing for handling eve-teasers… Bangalore-based rock band Thermal And A Quarter (TAAQ) are doing their bit for tackling You-Know-Who and other similar death eaters. The newsletter from TAAQ was the other coincidence. I was sitting and watching videos of AfroReggae on YouTube when G-talk announced a new mail.

“…it’s time to unlock our chords, vocal and all. For nearly a month, Bangalore has been rocked by a big protest against the self-appointed moral police. While mostly everybody was throwing hate back at the hate-mongers, we came up with our strongest response: One Small Love. This unusual protest song is about making a difference through random acts of love – to unexpected people, in unexpected places, in unexpected ways…”
You can hear One Small Love here and can download it here. Check out AfroReggae’s MySpace page as well…it doesn’t matter if you don’t understand the language. Dance along.

CNN-IBN journalist DP Satish wrote on his blog that the best way to deal with You-Know-Who is to not give them publicity. While it is a good idea to not give them any hype, it will be silly to not discuss the issue. We will not make such issues or such people go away by not discussing them. The idea is to KNOW, so that we know how to react. While the media and bloggers did provide You-Know-Who with a global platform, they also informed people. Perhaps the next time those at the receiving end will be better prepared. Perhaps instead of just one man speaking out against You-Know-Who and other death eaters, more will stand up and refuse to let them have their way.

So many people making themselves heard and reacting is a good sign. Perhaps eventually, we will not need help wiping/washing our bums. And if what it takes is singing and dancing to the rhythm of rage, so be it.

Disclaimer: This blog/post does not in any way seek to infringe any copyright of JK Rowling or the Harry Potter trademark. Just in case her lawyers decide to sue the blog owner, the use of You-Know-Who and ‘death eaters’ is duly attributed to JK Rowling. Thank-you for a phrase that describes evil so well, even though there is nothing magical about these evils. As a gesture of good will, the blog owner will soon be buying Tales of Beedle the Bard as well.

PS 1: Thank-you for the comments on the previous post....despite the numbers who end up reading this blog, not many react or interact. That is fine! Even if you choose not to comment, it would be nice if you pass on the One Small Love link to friends and people. Tks!

PS 2 : Check this out as well….LOVE the music.
See the AfroReggae in action, click on the video.

India: Slums, dogs and millionaires

Happy Republic Day.

One of the first things I remember about describing India -- it was a grade three/four essay on “describe your country” -- was “India is a diverse nation.” To a seven-year-old me, “diverse” really didn’t mean much. The first real awareness about any patriotic identity I had was that we -Indians - “hated” Pakistan, rather the Pakistani cricket team.

Over the years there have been many things I have realised about my country. We are in the top 10 list of most corrupt nations and would soon become world leaders in terms of population. Recently I learnt that we have more honours students than the entire population of Australia. And that Indians doctors and IT guys are wanted the world over. I could go on…

What is India? “Everything” is the word that best describes it.

Structured chaos, patience for long traffic jams, slums with the best TV channels and early morning lining-up for water. Praying to cows and killing of female foetuses. Gods with many arms and beggar kids with none. Rising divorce rates in cities and a reluctance to put parents in old-age homes. World-class chefs and mothers who still make awesome, detailed home-cooked food. In Amitabh Bachchan, the star of the millennium (BBC says so) and every state and every district with it’s own distinct dance form and music. We might suck at global sport but you can’t beat us at mind games…

Pizzas with paneer on them and the world’s best bloody street food. Metal head chicks who still get henna on their hands for weddings. And weddings! The many different kinds of Indian weddings are a study by themself. A blooming real estate industry and shitting in the open. Politicians with criminal records and yet a surprisingly, surviving democracy. I would love to challenge any other country to take even a quarter of the population we have and try and make something worthwhile from it. They will fail.

It gets difficult though, when people here ask questions about India: some honestly curious, some mistakenly superior. My father keeps telling me to not get into arguments and let people think what they might. Well, we shall see.

What is India? The list can go on… She is different things to different people.

So I asked friends and my ‘network’ to contribute a photograph: something they think denotes or represents India. But then, as contributor George Koshy pointed out, can any single picture really capture India? You decide, or not...

Captions provided by photographers where not specified

<-- 1. Good Morning India: pic by Shashwat Nagpal, 28, freelance photographer, Creative Director with a multinational IT consulting firm.
"I took this picture in Benaras/Varanasi. To me, it reflects the spiritual face of India... showing the faith in our culture and customs and how people make living through it too."

2. Years of Raniket: pic by Shefali Sewak, 28, lawyer -->

"I've been going to Ranikhet every year since I was about 8-years-old. It really is my 'home away from home', except that unlike Delhi, it is spiritually unsoiled. Every time I'm in Ranikhet, I see and feel things that touch me to the core. This is strange because I don't usually get moved easily.My last visit in October 2008 was no different. There's this one picture which I took of an old woman. She had typical Kumaoni features, and her face was wrinkled with years of Ranikhet. But gorgeous as her face was, I found this photograph more intriguing."

<-- 3. Varanasi tradition: pic by Ben Tregear, 28, freelance photographer currently living in India

I met Ben at a terrace party, smoking pot and strumming Bob Dylan or someone else on the guitar...

4. Die Swimmer Die (Pong Lake Watersports sign board, Kangra, Himachal): pic by Colin Fernandes, author (Viva Santiago!), contemplator, lad-mag features editor -->

<-- 5. Mishti khabe?: Pic by Michael Oberhardt, 29, senior geologist, currently living in India

"It was taken in a small village called Rajdih in September last year. It is about 7 hours drive north of Kolkata in Jharkhannd state. We were drilling nearby and I decided to stop at all the little villages to hand out some sweets to the kids (and parents)."

6. Sushil and I: pic by Rajaraman Ganesan, 47, former sports editor, current consultant --->

This picture shows "the down to earth nature of an Olympic medal winner..."

7. Family portrait: pic by Jesse Rapczak, 28, video game developer, living in India

"This is a portrait of a family that lives near my office in Noida. They run a small corner shop and usually sleep on the street. After I took the photo I realized they probably did not have a family portrait as a keepsake, so I printed several copies and took it back to them. We didn't speak the same language, but I'll never forget the joy I saw in their eyes and how grateful they were as a result of this simple gesture."

There are more contributions, just that I'm running out of time.. will come and upload those later. For those interested in contributing as well: email me ONE photograph --that YOU have taken -- that represents India or what you think of India. Hope a lot of you will participate! Email contributions to foxytanya@gmail.com WITH:

1. your photo contribution: perhaps a caption or two about where/when you took it and what it means

2. your name, age (optional) and what you do for a living/ otherwise

3. a link to your website/blog so people can check out more of your pictures

You DON'T have to be a professional photographer; anyone can send in a contribution--- if you know people who might want to contribute...please forward this note to them.

PS: Saw Slumdog Millionnaire last night... a post on that later.

Hex appeal anyone?

The Hindustan Times, July 24, 2008
"I get beaten up regularly, you will learn to adjust too," her to-be mother-in-law told her. Luckily she didn't take that parental advice and walked out a week before her marriage. She was 23. Another was not as lucky and grew to be very scared of the night, that's when her husband came back from work. She was 18. He never beat her, technically, but he raped her every night, every possible way. She took three years to get out of the marriage. Both women are 'comfortable' sharing their stories over a cup of coffee but neither of them is a blogger nor wants to be one either. One wonders if there would be any takers for their blogs or would they be labelled 'feminists' and cast aside?

It's ironic that while both 'feminine' and 'feminist' come from 'female', one conjures images of Marilyn Monroe's mystery, Sophia Loren's sensuousness and Bo Derek's twins; the other neither invokes such visual richness nor summons any pleasing reactions. 'Hard-nosed', bitch, needs-a-lay are just some of the polite words. Currently the blog world is divided over feminine and feminist too. Feminine will write about sex, or rather who she 'shags' (and how); feminist will write about who shagged her -- and then beat her.

If on one hand there's cleavage-baring (nice cleavage though) Zoe Margolis aka Abbey Lee aka Girl With A One Track Mind who gives insight on men-women-relationships with a generous dose of her generous , there's Fay Weldon who also gives insight on men and women but sans the cleavage or her sex life. She does write on sex though, more on the lines of "It's OK to fake an orgasm" or "Rejecting a lover can give you more gratification". Those are excerpts from an article she wrote on keeping men happy on Femail daily. If Abbey Lee talks about massaging a man's gonads, Weldon talks about squeezing the same to prove your point.

Feminine or feminist, all women seem to talk about bodies, babies, boobs and beatings. There's Samantha Brett on Ask Sam who answers dating and relationship queries. While Sam's writing is neither witty enough to compare with Abbey Lee nor scathing enough to match up to Weldon's, for some quick easy (at times, can-find-anywhere) advice on what's the right thing to do, she suffices.

For those who'd rather read fiction than facts, there's – hold your breath – Witchy Chicks who write fictional, sex-filled, lustful, orgasmic (etc, etc) stories on wicca, sex, women, sex, wizards, sex… Don't read for much quality – 'Hex Appeal' anyone? – but it's worth a laugh.

PS: Current status: No internet yet, course going fine, met awesome Sri Lankan girl, wore green socks yesterday that were called woolly mammoth and moss among other polite things. Cooked Indian dinner. Gave CV to chef saying I was a baker, he was Greek and said he will call back. So that I can bake for him. Like the idea, it should pay. Let's see. Gotta go, this is the library!!!

Not scared to be me

So the latest reader-development in this blog was the ‘coming out’ of our very own ‘N’, who is now ‘Silbil’ and has thankfully reclaimed her identity as the author of Alu Chaat. Is it because she is now comfortable being ‘herself’? Or is it because while leading us to her blog, she still remains as anonymous to us/ readers/world, as she was before? Are you and I on the internet because while it let’s us connect with people, it keeps us safe and anonymous behind a wall (or monitor)? All those who exclusively blog about their lives, are they writing the absolute truth or the versions of the truth they want us to hear? And above all, when you read, comment or blog, is it because you want the world to know you and your thoughts or because you can hide the ‘real’ you?


This article talks about "coming out" on the Internet and flashing your individuality. It was the cover story for What’s Hot (The Times Of India), published on September 8, 2006.
Not Scared To Be Me
Sexy photographs, smart profiles. Fans, friends. Stalkers, networkers. Everyone has attitude and everyone’s wired in. Jhoomur Bose logs in to the World Wide Web…
"Want to know some of the effects of losing my anonymity? (a) All my friends now know how often I masturbate, what turns me on, and how obsessed with sex I am. (b) As does everyone I’ve ever worked with in the film industry. (c) As do my cousins, aunts and uncles as well. Beat that. (Not literally. Yuck.) (d) My sex drive has gone kaput. Having something sleazy printed about me in a national newspaper, with photographers sitting on my and my parents’ doorstep didn’t make me horny, it made me stressed, anxious, and lack sleep for ten days. (e) I cannot write on the blog, as I once did. Right now, I don’t know how, or in what capacity, I can write on here again. Thanks very f*****g much for outing me, you bastards."

Above is an excerpt from the August 26 entry on ‘Girl With A One Track Mind’, the blog recently published as an eponymous book. The blogger-author called herself ‘Abbey Lee’, till a newspaper reported her ‘real’ identity was ‘Zoe Margolis’. Her life isn’t the same. Zoe was doing the same thing as a million others: using the Internet and its promise of (some sort of) anonymity to either live out a fantasy or aspects of their lives unacceptable to society. Zoe’s isn’t the only case. Recently there were stripper and call girl Mimi and Belle de Jour, respectively, whose anonymous blogs (sex, life and perspective) have been published as books. Zoe, Mimi, Belle… they sought cyberspace for its ‘no identity, no problem’ philosophy.

But there are also those who couldn’t care less about anonymity and flaunt their identities. They don’t want to live out fantasies—they want to be themselves. Their profiles scream ‘I, me, myself'. The new Netizen is part of an e-junta (complete with picture and profile) and s/he wants to be known—worldwide.

"40 countries, 12 boats, 37 flights, 46 assholes and over a year later... Writing, avoiding...and campaigning for immigrants whilst musing on anal sex and pissing off the religious right." —Introduction on Mimi, a New York stripper’s non-anonymous blog

READ ME, KNOW ME, LOVE ME

“We are not scared of ‘what will the world think of me’ anymore. It’s liberating to put forth your point and have many more responding to that point. It’s amazing to see so many varied opinions people have. It allows you, if needed, to change your thinking." —Vertika Yadav, PR consultant

A profile screams, “If I like you, I’ll be good to you.” Porn site? No, the author’s attitude towards “those who don’t have the patience to read what I have to say.” Sofi says, “I write about things people shy away from, so there are many who come just to check me out.” And her site? What? She doesn’t want it printed, for it will bring unnecessary attention! “I’m not ashamed of what I have to say. But it’s for the like-minded people I want to reach out to.” Reaching out to like-minded people, forming communities based on shared interests, meeting other members… the Internet user transitions from Anonymous to Affable!

There are some who still want to remain anonymous, and some of them don’t even write sex blogs. The reason? Fear of ridicule. Take Piali Sharma. She wants to join a networking site, but with an assumed name and no picture. Why join at all? “My anonymity gives me access to people’s innermost thoughts, which they might not reveal if they knew who I was. That apart, I’m basically shy and don’t really want to go all out… How do you know how people will react to what you say?” Some people don’t put up their pictures either for fear of being recognised — writing nasty comments about your boss with your picture up there WILL get you into trouble! — or for fear of the pictures being misused. Damn you, digital demons.

But the new flamboyant breed takes the Net to the next level. They are not scared of revealing themselves, of speaking their minds, of uploading their mug-shots. They will party at night with ‘real’ friends and log-in the morning after to describe the fun they had. For some, it’s the thrill of meeting new people. For others, it’s about putting ideas out there—for those who agree and for those who disagree. Says Piali, “It requires a certain character to bare it all. That’s not me. Neither can I handle so many ‘friends’. I’m more the one-friend type.” For better or for worse, the Internet gives you the chance(s) to forge a broader circle of acquaintances in a time when finding and maintaining meaningful friendships is getting tougher.

"It’s the time of collaboration and sharing and it’s booming as humans inherently want to connect." —Satish Warier, manager, menwhopause


SINGLE PEOPLE, ALONE TOGETHER?
"My profile has not been made to impress you. If you don't like it you are more than welcome to leave." —From the online scrapbook of a feisty female, in response to the usual "Will you be my frand" query on networking sites.

And so, we the people, are connecting and the global village is shrinking to a global neighbourhood. Yet, ironically, dissident voices blame the Internet for a not-so-pleasant phenomenon: social isolation. In June 2006, an authoritative study in American Sociological Review found that the average American had only two close confidants, down from an average of three in 1985.

Basically, the Americans and the rest of the world has fewer ‘real life, close friends.’ But isn’t loneliness part of life today—with or without the Internet? “Alone-in-a-crowd has become the norm,” says psychiatrist Dr Jitendra Nagpal. True too, what with people living thousands of miles away from home, when social and professional circles merge because of 12-hour jobs and commuting for another four and when finding time to hang out at the mall or meet friends for a stroll is tough. Suddenly, the only way for friends and family — dotted across the globe—to be together is in a virtual time zone, as bright green dots on Google Talk.

In this situation comes the saviour of the lonely planet—a dating site, a networking community, your personal blog and the tag of a 1000 ‘friends’ on your profile. Logging on is panacea. So, how then is the Internet making us asocial?

“We are communicating more but we are losing out on non-verbal, emotionally-flavoured conversation,” says Jitendra. Navin from Fropper.com differs. “Earlier, I wouldn’t get to meet people if I were working away from home. Today, I can interact daily, instantly, even share photographs, audio, video. Personal interactions are superior but infrequent. The Internet comes in to fulfil the human need for communication.”

For Erin McKean of Dressaday.com, it’s about meeting like-minded people: “The Internet is not (always) a bunch of computers talking to each other! It’s made by people, for people. In Chicago, where I live, I know barely six people who are interested in sewing to the degree I am. Online, I know over 100! The Internet makes it much easier to find people who share your interests.”
Shared interests. Time to kill. Research. Time-pass. The Internet does many things...but somewhere one wonders: is it taking us away from ‘real’ life, people and situations?

“What do you mean ‘lonely’? I have 1032 friends on Myspace!” —Blogger refuting he logs on because he is ‘lonely’

FRIENDS FOR LIFE, ADDICTED FOR LIFE 2?
“He would return from work at 10 pm, race through dinner and then log on… till 6 am! Emails, chats, webcams… I couldn’t take it anymore. People who weren’t even there were more important to him.” Radha divorced her husband because he “wanted to be online all the time”.
Priya is paranoid about her 13-year-old. “Earlier, he would meet friends in the park to play, talk, do whatever kids do. Then he discovered the Internet. Now his gang has broken up; most of them have online friends. I hate to see him gaping at the monitor, rather than playing outside.”

‘Losing’ loved ones to the Net goes beyond porn. Addictions could be any and many: gaming sites, word puzzle sites, dating sites, photography sites, horoscope sites, DIY sites… And perhaps the biggest of them all—writing your thoughts and having people read and react.

Experts say it’s about drawing your own limits. “It’s a vice if you make it a vice. Spending all your time on the Net at the cost of everything else is bad,” says Navin. Jitendra reiterates, “The moment you compromise on your day-to-day social activities, you know you are overdoing it.”

“It is a presumption that anonymity is what works with people on the Net,” says Navin Mittal, head of operations, Fropper.com. “Yes, it is important for certain services, but it is not the biggest deal. Think about it: you divulge your identity when registering for an e-mail or seeking membership to a community. Even e-mails can be tracked through IP addresses, so to say that anonymity is the Internet’s biggest draw is false. The biggest draw is the fact that the Internet really draws you closer, the fact that the Web has permeated the lives of people more so than it had about five years ago.”

And if anonymity was really that big, social networking wouldn't be making such a bang in the global and Indian cyberspace. W limits, cyberia opens a plethora of possibilities. Meet, mate, chat, catch up, show off… As long as you’re in control of your life—virtual and real—you’ll do just fine. Go on, log in!

BANG FOR YOUR BUCK

There are profiles and then there are profiles that grab eyeballs. Often it is pictures, oftener still it is a smart tag-line. A sample of some of the profile tags that ‘sell’ today:

...Would you believe everything I told you about myself?
... Independent, strong-willed, love animals, love Tolkien’s imagination, dream to have a room full of JUST books one day.
... Funny, messy, irresponsible, quick-witted guy, who thinks no end of himself!
... For those who know me, I don’t really need an intro. And for the losers who don’t know me, they can find out what they’re missing
...I have my own rules to live my life. And sometimes, just for kicks, to boost my rebellious nature I like to break them. Can you handle that?
... At heart, I am a drugged out, wasted (and obviously long-haired) hippy with a serious break from reality
... I like deep people, people whom I can’t just read off the the surface. I like to explore new tongues ;) and can speak quite a few lingos
... I want people to know who I am, and as far as my pictures go...I am not ugly!

Addicted to 'violent porn'

What would you say if you found your 12-year-old watching people being beheaded, mutilated bodies and human beings, either dead or suffering? Or if your 10-year-old daughter demanded a breast implant? Or would you prefer your 15-year-old were part of an online suicide cult?

The latest entrant into the list of child predators – along with pedophiles and teachers who dish out corporal punishment – is the World Wide Web. According to a 1999 report published by the US Senate Committee, “by age 18 a child will have seen 16,000 simulated murders and 200,000 acts of violence.” Through movies, television, video games, newspapers and the mother of all database, the Internet. Increasingly adults and children alike are getting addicted to violence and violent imagery on the Internet and the terminology being used for this addiction is 'violent-porn'.

How would you feel if one of your deceased relatives’ pictures suddenly popped up on a website that publishes real pictures of dead people, those in accidents, with mutilated limbs and suicide pictures taken from police files?

One such family wrote to a website claiming the site had put up a picture that showed the mangled body of their nephew, who had killed himself by getting in the path of a train. They requested the site to remove the picture. The website replied, “We ask that, in the future, this family conduct their suicides in a less public manner.” Sensitive, right?

Freedom of speech and expression are beautiful tenets of this modern world. But does it stop somewhere, should it? What is worrying – more than the presence of such sites – is the fact that it is the susceptible minds of children that are getting hooked.

Popular sites such as ‘Who Would You Kill’ and ‘New Grounds’ focus on killing off celebrities of your choice. The latter is the 12th most popular site for boys aged 11-12 years old. If it’s violence for the boys, it’s plastic surgery for the girls. The Daily Mail reported how a new Internet video game called ‘Bimbo’ has caught the fancy of young girls. Launched a month ago the game has nearly 200,000 British players, most aged 9-16 years.

What’s wrong with the game? Nothing if you see it as a spoof. But does a 9-year-old understand it’s a spoof when she orders breast implants for her ‘Bimbo’ or puts her ‘Bimbo’ on dieting pills? Is it all harmless fun or are we looking at a generation of young girls growing up thinking bigger breasts and a stick-thin figure are what they need and young boys learning to love violence and mutilation? Or are we all over-reacting?
Next Page >>> Who’s responsibility is it?