WHERE DID 2016 GO?

There's neglect, and then there's neglect. Yes, I am talking about this blog, which I figure has long given up the hope of ever being updated.

So much has changed in the past year, so much that I'd like to encapsulate. Ups and downs, a lot of good stuff, some heartache, some sheer misery... There has been plenty to be thankful for, and some stuff that you wish you could turn back the clock for, and change.

But mostly, this is what the year has been all about:

• Family and friends
• Home
• Work, most of it new, some older
• Some wonderful vacations

 And yes, it has been all about learning, growing and discovering.

Think I'll mull over that, before I come back on here and type.

AN ACCENT? *I* HAVE ONE?

No way! *said in a nasal twang*

The country woke up to a cringe-inducing clip on social networking sites recently, close on the heels of the Cannes Film Festival. Proudly starring in this video, courtesy some heavy duty PR machinery, was a wannabe starlet of Indian cinema who has migrated to greener pastures, in the belief that she has a bright and shiny career in Hollywood ahead of her. A blink-and-you-miss-it role in some production, another film that clearly even the editors of said film didn't watch... you get the picture.

However, that didn't stop the lady in question from spouting lines replete with rrrrrrolling Rs and a heavy twang that would make any Indian immigrant head for the hills. That the inanities dished out were beyond unimaginable were another story altogether. It was in horrified fascination that people watched, watched again and then almost passed out.

India, according to said twangy lady is a regressive, hypocritical society, where women get a raw deal the minute they open their eyes, how she was the first woman to kiss on screen (not true!!!), the first on screen to wear a bikini (rubbish again!) ... the insanity and ignorance were out of bounds.

Honestly, dissing the place you were born in, grown up in is so not cool. While things may not be perfect on various levels, thumbing down your country is not on. That you come across as an ignoramus is evident, but not that we care about that.

What's okay (even if you choose to shoot your mouth off) is sounding sincere, and not putting on a heavy, fake accent that you've apparently acquired while on sojourn overseas. C'mon, that's worse than putting on an accent after dropping a NRI cousin to the airport and returning home to the suburbs in Mumbai! 

All in all, that's an innerview (so she said; interview for the rest of us) that has raised the hackles of many, and with good reason. There's just so much nonsense that can be tolerated. 

OF CONVENIENCE CHARGES AND SIMILAR RIP-OFFS

Do you recall the time when to get people to use online services, merchants used to dangle plump, tempting carrots? Yes, free gifts included! (Refer previous post for detailed rant.)

Our phone service provider dutifully gave us a discount (of a negligible amount) - but it was a discount all the same. Why? On paying your bills on time and via the Internet. Worked for me. With or without the discount, really, but oh the convenience!

It's now the same word that's made it to My List of Irksome Things (and People). Especially when it has fee tagged to it.

So if I go book a movie ticket online, I'm shelling out an additional amount - a percentage of the ticket cost - towards convenience fee. Note that:

- Low to no cost involved for the theatre in terms of having people man ticketing counters

- Low infrastructure cost (no fancy counters/ signboards/ thingummies)

- The time people spend queuing up to buy tickets, they probably now spend at the food counters

- That translates to more revenue - because if you book online, you get food combos (which are not free, are they?)

I see theatres singing their way conveniently to the bank. As for me, yes, I didn't have to make a trip out to book my tickets. And yes, I didn't have to stand in line. But then, doesn't it work both ways? If it's oh-so-convenient for all concerned, split the goodies, I say!

Until then, is anyone headed to book tickets anyway, and can get mine too?

PS: Related airline rant coming up shortly.

WHAT'S A FREE GIFT?

Have never understood this one. Maybe it's just me, but could you help?

See, if I had to pay for it (the gift), it wouldn't be a gift in the first place, would it? And hence the 'free' is redundant. I know there are more such oxymorons out there, but this one somehow irks me a fair bit. One reason is, it's always visible - electronics stores that have sales! discounts! free gifts! Clothes that scream the same - buy one and get the other at half price. (And also a free gift.)

Which by the way, most of the time happens to be something entirely useless or even if it can be deemed useful (by a verrrrry long stretch of the imagination), it's not for me. 

What, for example, will I do with a tiny plastic box that is non-food grade? Okay, so maybe it can be used to store say, um, play doh, or odd buttons or maybe a stray piece of jewellery. Hmm. But then for that, said box needs to be of a reasonable size! The play doh itself (in a single colour) can occupy a box three times the size. Hmph. As for jewellery, it's not me. On that, whenever I remind the significant other just how much he saves by not having to buy me serious jewellery/ trinkets, he just doesn't see it the way I do. Apparently, the books and wardrobe upgrades cost a small fortune. But I digress.

The other things I've gotten often enough at grocery stores are sachets of soup and ketchup. The soup will always be tomato (ugh), the ketchup some shady brand(?) that I'm not even sure is ketchup. Could be plain pumpkin paste with food colour for all I know.

The worst that I can remember is this one soap (I forget which) that offered a diamond pendant with some zillions of cakes. I mean, really! Diamonds? On soap? Who were they kidding? Paste stones, most likely. Am not sure any amount of soaps (that cost well under a dollar each) can stare confidently in the face of even the teeniest diamond.

Conclusion: There is no such thing as a free gift, and if someone promises you that there is, it's time to turn right round and head off in the opposite direction. 

THERE'S A REASON I DISLIKE REALITY SHOWS. SEE?

While the title of this post may be generic, I guess I could amend it to say 'Why I Dislike Most Reality Shows'. Not sure how true that would be, though, seeing the sort of programming there is of the genre on Indian telly today. I'll tear apart discuss a cookery show here for example.

The show in question is the local version of an Australian cooking show, but that's where any similarity ends. I'm personally a huge fan of the Aussie version - stood in line to have cookbooks signed by the hosts at the risk of losing my iPad/ limbs/ life, that's how much I like/ revere them - but this one, um, NEVER. Here's why:

In the previous seasons, an actor was the host. While I have nothing against the said actor (some of his films have been entertaining), my grouse is against the concept of a non-chef (is that even a word? but you know what I mean...) hosting a food show. Food = Chef. Foodie is welcome, but does not sub for a chef. Acting chops do not sub for lamb chops. Capiche?

So that's been rectified this new season, for what it's worth. There are cooks now. You bringing out the bubbly, hoping I'm gonna wrap up this post? Nu-uh, not gonna happen, so plod on!

What's not changed is the melodrama. If it's a food show, shouldn't the focus be:

a. Food

b. Food

c. Food

d. On helping contestants (winners and non-winners alike) move ahead on their foodie dream path

e. On sounding and looking like a food show

What we have instead is a scary concoction of tears, sob stories and some more tears. And oh, by the way there's some food, off and on. Possibly for relief from all the crying, I dunno. 

The episode I shuddered my way through earlier this week had a contestant from rural India sobbing and gasping his way through a story about how he runs a roadside stall and has borrowed money till the cows come home to make it to the auditions. With a lot of cooing and murmuring from the judges, the man in question is awarded the coveted apron, which he almost collapses receiving. He then proceeds to touch each of the judges' feet. I mean c'mon, is this a family tear-jerker or what? Of course, there's suitable Hindi film music that's playing in the background.

Scenario 2: Ridiculously chirpy (read: sounded senile) lady from one of the metros, who giggled and twirled and chirped her way through her audition. Said something about how she's always on her toes, running behind her kids, spouse and in-laws. Twittered and simpered for additional (barf) effect. Do you think she didn't get the apron? Really? Hah!

Clearly, it's not about the food. It's all about the masala, the tears, the gut-wrenching stories, the poor underdog. WHERE IS THE FOOD??

I could go on... and on. Just that it's sorta sickening to. Besides, thinking about it only replays each ridiculous piece of nothing in my head, and that's unspeakable trauma I really can't bear.

My point is, stick to the  international format. If you can't for whatever (inane) reason(s), don't sully the original by attempting to pass off whatever it is you've come up with. I continue to remain a fan of the Aussie series, and the way that one goes, I don't see myself stopping anytime soon. I'd go back and buy the same books and stand in that same I'm-a-groupie-at-a-rock-concert queue just for that same scrawl across the pages. Rinse repeat.

So if you counter-argue that local flavour works, then fine. But DO NOT call it what you do. Call it the Remixed Version That Has Nothing To Do With The Original, thank you very much.

I'M GROUCHING ABOUT POLITICS. AGAIN. AS USUAL.

So I'm happily browsing my way through my account on a popular social networking site over coffee this morning, oohing and aahing over some gorgeous pictures of marine life a cousin's captured, mentally transporting myself on an exotic Bali/ Maldives/ Fiji vacation. Happiness, marred by a another set of pictures that almost made me spill my coffee. Now that would've been a bad thing, huh? Precious coffee lost over what? Politics, I tell you. Meh.

Those disturbing images? Politicians. Those captions and rants? Political. Honestly, why on social networking? Don't understand why the We Love So-and-So Party and We Couldn't Care Less About So-and-So Politician groups/ pages abound, really. My perception of social networking must be warped, clearly, because all I use it for is to connect with friends and family the world over (albeit impersonal, but that's another story to tell). So why politics?

Sometimes, I marvel at those of us who can stay apolitical? unpolitical? through all the news and coverage that happens. But really, it does irk (and I'm being polite) me no end to see all those almost maniac articles and posts praising X and defiling Y. It's a tough job, not taking sides and being a happy fence sitter with a  coffee and reading only the funnies in the papers (okay, horoscopes too), without reacting to any of the garbage that is generously doled out on a daily basis.

Why the apathy? Why the dislike for politics? Well, personally, I think there's enough gore going around without adding further stress. Haven't seen many civil discussions over a drink or a meal that didn't turn into (sometimes ugly) arguments about A versus B. Call it escapist if you like, but I'm not one for the discussion.

Excuse me while I go brew another cuppa. Manna, this.

AVERSE TO CHANGE? OR JUST PLAIN SCARED?

How many times have you thought about making that move - from your present comfortable job to say, turning entrepreneur? Mental math, back-of-the-envelope calculation, some serious number crunching later, you're still at squat. As are the most (?) of us. (As usual, I don't have statistics here. Ironic, given that I'm talking number crunching, don't you think?)

The thing is, you tend to be afraid. Afraid not so much of change per se, but just how much that change is going to dislodge your current fairly comfortable existence. It's about that security of the salary being credited into your bank account at the end of the month, versus a situation where, until you break even, you have losses staring you in the face. And bills to pay.

Take relationships. Those ones that aren't working anymore? How often do we just hang on to the threads, just hoping and praying that somewhere, somehow things will work out? We often fool ourselves into believing that things are fine, when they're about a few thousand years away from being so. All because to suddenly cut a person out of your life - a friend, a parent, a spouse - is a tough thing to do. And so we plod on.

Or on a girlier (yes! I made that word up!) note, a new hairdo. God forbid that long tresses are chopped short. Hello, they do grow back, y'know. Eventually. Or those highlights you've been dying to get, and envy anyone who seems to be carrying them off with so much aplomb - so much so your face turns an interesting shade of green, never mind whether your hair is coloured or not. You don't, because you're worried what the  significant other/ parent/ neighbour/ co-worker/ pet dog might say. Or worse, judge you.

Scary. That's the word. And so we shy away, take a step back, and dwell on what-might-have-been. Jump in, try something new today - it's a brand new day.

AGE + RELIGION + MARITAL STATUS = STUPID JOKES

Annoyance, storm of locusts style.

C'mon, give people a break. The movie mags are full of supposedly howlarious jokes, all because a leading lady of Bollywood married the guy she was seeing, also a huge star, a day or two ago. Stupid, crass, insensitive jokes that touch upon their age (difference), religions they follow (obviously different) and the fact that he had been married before, and has two children from the marriage. 

How does any of it matter, is what I would like to know? Two grown up individuals, capable of making a decision as well as the next person, two people who are committed to each other and have decided to take their commitment to the next level - and what they get is flak. Does it make a difference whether they're years apart in age? As with any couple, isn't it obvious that one would be older than the other? And as for being previously married, again, really, does the chap need to be hung, drawn and quartered for that? And if the both of them happen to follow different faiths, where's the problem. Isn't the world full of people in mixed marriages? And should one of them choose to convert to the other's religion, isn't it a personal decision? It's not like they're making everyone on the planet do the same, are they?

Incidentally, the children from the previous marriage attended the wedding ceremony. Clearly, a couple of pre-teens have more maturity than a whole bunch of twits adults put together.

Grow up, goss rags!

EXTINCT FOR A REASON, RIGHT?

So a well-preserved woolly mammoth was discovered in Siberia some days ago. And that brought about the usual articles about mapping the fossilised DNA to recreate a brand new mammoth at some point in the (near) future. 

All very fascinating, and no two ways about it - a giant leap in scientific progress. With something like this, there seem to be endless possibilities ahead. 

So then what comes to mind is Jurassic Park. Digressing, must admit that none of the sequels were as cool as the first movie (but then, which sequels are, for the most part?) though. Dinosaurs fascinate me no end, and the very idea of real live dinos.... oooooooh. For the same reason, The Lost World is one of my all-time favourite books. (Read more about it here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Lost_World_(Conan_Doyle_novel).)

But back to the patiently waiting mammoth. Isn't there a reason it turned extinct in the first place? Ditto dodos, dinos, and all other species (flora, fauna and animal alike), for that matter. I'm thinking out loud, but I do wonder what recreating extinct creatures will do to the Earth as we know it today? For one, the ecological dimensions are starkly different, let alone the geography. Each of these species survived an age, and died out a death (natural or otherwise) subsequently. Bringing in that mammoth - would it survive in today's world? Would it cause more damage to our surroundings, or succumb to them? Would there be serious pandemonium, à la Jurassic Park? Would there be a battle for survival, between man and beast? (No, no, we're not debating who's the man and who's the beast here. That's for another post.) Possibilities, again, and some of them not very pleasant.

If there's a show of hands, I personally want a bright shiny new dinosaur.

BAN IT NOW! REALLY?

So for a while now there's been talk about how tobacco based products are going to be banned. Or maybe the ban's been implemented, even. Why? In a bid to ensure that the consumption declines, and thereby leads to (hopefully) a lower rate of cancer victims. While I don't deny that the statistics of those affected by the dreaded disease are painfully high, and that tobacco consumption contributes to incidences of a certain type of cancer, I do wonder about the ban.

What happens with a ban is this: there's a brouhaha, it gets written about and talked about, the dailies are splashed with pictures of stores being raided, and then comes that bit about people purchasing on the sly, never mind the ban, thank you very much. Sloooowly, much   later (and on the quiet), the ban gets lifted/ terms and conditions of the ban change, much like a starlet changing clothes for a magazine shoot, and life goes back to normal. That is, those who weren't put off by the grotesque imagery on packets of said products, go grab them in their eager little paws once more.

I don't know if there's a solution here, honestly - you may even question whether awareness campaigns even cut it any more. And hence a ban is justified, according to some. At least that way, access is that much tougher, and consumption goes down. On the flip side, a (not so?) small little black market flourishes, and the ban is effectively moot. Becomes a farce, like so many other things.

So if not a ban - what? What will make people pause, think twice before reaching out for that ciggie? for that tobacco product that seemingly gives a high? I'm not a fan of smoking, both passive or active, and strongly believe that never mind burning a hole in your lungs or throat or mouth, look no further than your pocket to begin with. There itself the hole burns deep. In fact, passive smoking gets my goat, and how: why should someone else be at the receiving end of what you're subjecting your lungs to, and that too not out of choice? 

I'd rather pay my shopping bill instead of a hospital's.

ORGANIC, YOU SAY?

As I trawled the aisles of the food store, tossing in super healthy (ha!) goodies (read instant noodles, microwave popcorn, chocolate and such; you get the drift), I stopped short in front of a shiny new display that screamed the words 'organic' in large white letters. Anything new and shiny and fun (and oh, the packaging was fun!) strikes my eye (of course!) and the trolley develops a mind of its own and automatically grinds to a halt. It's not me, please note, it's the trolley to blame, as stuff I may not have planned to purchase gets rung up at the till. But I digress. But yeah, happens to you as well, right? Right? *hopeful look*

So the organic stuff. When the excitement of 'new!' wore off for a few seconds, I looked closely at the displays. Gorgeous packaging for everything, with uber cool designs and in a couple of cases, kitschy names too. Impressive. And yes - the product range included the gamut of lentils, spices and fresh veggies too. But while 'regular' red onions cost Rs 16/- (about 25 cents) a kilo, the smooth, plump organic ones were four times the cost. As for the spices, loved the packaging - corrugated cardboard (gasp!) and papier mache boxes (ooooh!) - but again, not so much the pricing. With a loud, thumping heart, making sure to check that no one was looking, I surreptitiously compared prices on both. And wound up with the organic cumin and pepper in my shopping cart. Also the onions.

Getting home, almost reverently dicing the onions for soup, decided that they smelt and tasted the same as any others, and thought that maybe the soup would taste different, if nothing else, to accommodate for the organic goodness. And oh, ditto the pepper.

As the soup was getting done, quickly whipped out the Berry to google up info on organic products. As expected, sifting through pages of wisdom, found that organic foods are healthier (duh!), have lesser chemicals and pesticides infused through them, are not genetically modified, contain more minerals, vitamins and other goodness as compared to conventionally grown produce. Or so they said.

Recently, my wallet was relieved to come across more research that said otherwise. Turns out that overall, there was not much of a differnce between the nutritional content, although the organic food was 30% less likely to contain pesticides. There is also no concrete evidence yet that there is a discernible difference in the amount of bacteria from eating organically produced foods compared to conventionally produced foods.

And oh, my onion soup didn't taste different, either. I think I'll use up that saved dough to buy myself a new ebook reader.

IN THE NEWS

Trending on the news - and not for the best of reasons - is a cartoonist these days. The guy was popped into a jail cell on charges of sedition, for what were viewed as offensive in the extreme cartoons. Of course, it's redundant to say that there are various views here: a faction of people mortally wounded by the said cartoons, while others have merely laughed them off, and thereby gone back to their lives. Another set of people have shrugged their shoulders and fence sat, and gone back into hibernation. That said, there is also a fourth lot, the ignorant, who asked, what cartoon? which cartoonist, did you say?

The cartoons in the limelight go all out to diss the state of affairs in the country currently. From desecrating the national symbol, to depicting canines ditching their favoured fire hydrants to relieve themselves on more sensitive surroundings... the said cartoons have it all. So Faction One objects, naturally. What Faction Two says is, aren't they just calling a spade a spade? Not everyone voices - or in this case, sketches - what they actually feel, and an even smaller number ask for free hospitality courtesy their government by putting them up on their blog. This guy did that. And got a lot of freebies in the bargain, including his 15 seconds of fame on all media possible. People who didn't read newspapers (Faction Four) picked them up, and got more information than they even wanted, given the very exciting stuff that the papers are otherwise crammed with. Others who didn't know cartoons beyond what they saw on the telly in their childhoods, suddenly woke up to them. Faction Three, Those With No Voice, just melted into the furniture when asked for an opinion, God forbid they meet the same fate as the cartoonist. News media benefited too; they had something apart from murders and robberies to report. Ah.

Now that's the story for you. It of course brings up the eternal question - how much is too much? In an attempt to raise a question/ point out facts(?)/ create awareness/ whatchamacallit, is it okay to draw no lines whatsoever, and happily believe that anything goes? The eternal debate of creative expression versus going too far rears its head.

Can the twain meet? Here's what I think: yes, one can express what s/he feels. However, offensive needs to be married with acceptable somewhere. It may not always be a win-win situation for both, but there is something to be said about a few things being sacred. Religion, flags of various countries - isn't there a reason they're topics (normally) approached sensitively? I'd say go right ahead and do what you want - but not such that if it were to happen to you, you'd react as strongly, as adversely, as the reaction you've just gotten. That old adage - do unto others as you would have them do unto you - tweaked a bit, maybe.

... AND THE INFRASTRUCTURE CRUMBLES AGAIN

Yesterday was a day of torrential rainfall in the city. It started to rain around mid-afternoon, and by evening, even those proverbial cats and dogs were overshadowed.

People started to leave work earlier than they otherwise would, trains were running late, roads were flooded - yes, flooded, with much more than knee-high water in places - and let's not even start on the traffic. My usual 45-minute commute took me closer to three hours, and apparently I was one of the luckier ones, both in terms of comfort and travel time. Why? Because while local trains were bravely ploughing along, they were devoid of electricity - ergo no fans - and were packed beyond imagination. Those who travel by train here would know what I mean, and for the others - let me see - it's about four people to a square foot of space. With maybe one more squeezed in for good measure. So there's heat, humidity levels at a crazy high, and no light (save for what would filter in from the windows and the doorways) to speak of. And then, these same trains made unscheduled halts for as much as an hour between stations, owing to flooded railway tracks.

On the roads, while I was safely ensconced in the air conditioned confines of my cab, negotiating the traffic was a nightmare. (I'd thought ahead and booked myself a cab in the morning itself; having made up my mind that it wouldn't be fun to drive myself home in the evening. Thank goodness for instincts.) Plugged in to my music, I'm glad I wasn't the cabbie. So there you go, not that the roads were brilliant, either. To add to the vehicles, people were spilling over on to the roads (not that we use our pavements to walk  on, even on a good day) and adding to the treacherous driving conditions. Of course, there was no saying where the potholes might be, so negotiating your way (both humans and cars) was tricky. Unless you were an SUV, in which case you barrelled on regardless.

This morning, while the rain continues - though feebly, in comparison to yesterday - the chaos does too, although to a smaller extent. Trains still continue to ply late, traffic snarls exist, and people troop in to work close to noon. Happy employees like the significant other are told to work out of home, so as I leave earlier this morning, he is happily sunk into the couch with his morning cuppa and the papers. Hmph. Envy.

The point of this rambling is just one: year after year, the city goes through the same situation, at least once every monsoon. Nothing changes, really, but that the number of people braving the mess have grown ten-fold, while the infrastructure has shrunk ten times. Development projects, while more appealing than food at a Michelin star restaurant on paper, are just that - on paper. They don't materialise, and when they eventually do - it's years too little and too late. What ails the city? Lack of one cohesive administrative body, one that takes accountability for its actions. With the buck being passed from one to the other (given the number that claim to be working for the city), there isn't any one that stands up, acknowledges that they're responsible, and functions as such.

We keep drawing parallels between the capital city and financial capital. Mercifully for them, there is just the one body that is accountable for the city's infrastructure. That is why you see projects being flagged off, and completed within a reasonable time frame. There is someone who stops to question what's happening - or isn't. The reasons for this - votes, public support at elections - may be questioned by a faction, yes. But if that's the case - I say, so what? Wouldn't you want to vote for such a party/ person? At least the work's getting done, which is why you elect someone in the first place. So no, there is no favouritism per se. It's initiative. And drive.

Things can change here too. All it needs is a spark.

For now -  and for a few more monsoons, seemingly - maybe we'd best invest in a boat.

CULTURAL DIVERSITY

Received what I believed was a forward via BlackBerry Messenger a couple of days ago. Turns out, not only was it not a forward, but had actually happened with the colleague who sent the message earlier that day.

The brave guy was relying on the city's crumbling infrastructure to get somewhere, and hence found himself on a local train. Sitting next to him was apparently an extremely pretty girl, with distinctly Oriental features. Of course, a conversation had to be struck (initiated by him) and with some luck, the rest of the train ride (and whatever else) would be made more pleasant.

So the guy (let's call him S) comes up with (what he believed then to be) the prefect opening line -

S: So what do you think of India? Isn't it a beautiful country?

Now for the rest of the conversation -

G (the girl in question): Yes, it is.

S: Do you like India?

G: Oh yes. I've been staying here a while now.

S: Really? So have you been staying in Mumbai long?

G: A while, yeah.

S: So where are you from originally? (names a couple of the Far Eastern countries, hoping to hazard a lucky guess and get even luckier)

G (complete with deadpan expression): Actually, I'm from Nagaland... India.

Basically, our South Indian hero didn't just put his foot in his mouth, but both his feet and his hands too.

By the time I was through with alternating between rolling my eyes and laughing, I texted back to know just how big his black eye must be.

Turns out he apologised profusely to the very much Indian girl, muttering something about not making assumptions any more. No phone number in his wallet of course, just a cold shoulder.

And then we talk about unity in diversity, cultural melting pots and (hopefully lesser) racism.

What makes it sad is the fact that such is the state of our country - one section doesn't recognise, let alone acknowledge the other as its own. Diversity that clearly co-exists with ignorance, indifference and apathy. Who's to blame? The powers that be for letting things get this bad? Where there is no communication - let alone connect - between one part of the country and another? Where there is neglect, and chaos, and a constant feel of being alien, the outsiders? There's loads more that can be said on the subject, and probably none of it may suffice. I guess all we can do is hope and pray - and act - for change.

OLD HAT

This one's been a topic of debate at some point or the other for almost everyone who owns a TV/ goes to the movies: celebrities who grace the screen, big or small. The screen, that is. And the fact that while they seem to have the most amazing, glamourous lives, they actually don't.

When was the last time you had to worry about having worn the same outfit? I don't have anxiety attacks about wearing the same outfit to work, sometimes twice in the same week. And I sure as hell don't own a closetful of footwear, just to coordinate with a similar number of clothes. Or accessories, either. I don't always - okay, almost never - have glossily painted nails, and bad hair days were inspired from yours truly. Imagine the nightmare - a new outfit each time you make a public appearance, or mixed and matched so well with something else that it looks different and new. Else it's a field day for the shutterbugs and the publications they work with - and a disaster of epic proportions for the celeb in question. Worse still if somebody else - and at the same do... gasp! - has the same stuff on.

I don't even claim to understand make-up. While it's definitely not about being ill groomed *shudder*, I can't imagine having to dress my face up as well. The amount of make-up I own, if everyone did the same, all those brands would file for bankruptcy. And models would be out of work.

And then the bit about going out in public, and more so in broad daylight. How would you like to be surrounded by bodyguards all the time? Where the page that defined 'privacy' was torn out of your dictionary? That brings me to the sunglasses and/ or hats. While I guess they are necessary (?), I still maintain that they look ridiculous when worn say, in a hotel lobby at nine in the evening, or inside a movie theatre. Being mobbed all the time so that even going grocery shopping is impossible. No, scratch that. Maybe a coffee; who goes grocery shopping without a gun to their heads anyway?

Of course, the counter argument is that it's a price knowingly  - and very willingly - paid. You trade in normalcy for the bright lights, the adoring fans, the money and the fame. The paparazzi is a devil you willingly shoulder. It may in fact be difficult and infinitely more painful - not to mention embarrassing - to not be recognised or mobbed, or stalked by that obsessed fan. It's a secret kick in the head without smoking something weird.

So then, do celebs have a right to grumble when the paparazzi chase becomes too much? What exactly is too much, and having once decided to embrace it, can a celeb then expect privacy at all? Don't they agree to become the public's darlings? In which case, shouldn't both the cupcakes and the green vegetables be accepted in equal measure? Or should the public be all sensitive and back off at a point?

Maybe.

I'm unsure if there's even a right answer.

What's your take?

YOU KNOW YOU'RE GETTING OLD(ER) WHEN...

... like me, you're tucked in under your duvet, bed socks included, at ten-thirty on a Friday evening, with a good book for company.

I wouldn't change a thing.

FASHIONABLY LATE. ALWAYS.

Being fashionably late is so uncool in my books. There's this couple though, friends of the significant other, that firmly believe otherwise. I wonder how they even managed to get married in the first place, given that they're never on time. Indian weddings happen as per the determined auspicious timing, but that's another story. And so they're always late, even as per Indian Standard Time (IST). How IST works is, say you're to meet someone at 8:00 p.m. You won't reach there before 9:30, and the other person would be surprised at best, if not harried. Because he expected you to reach not before 10:00.

We once decided to take in a movie with them. We reached in time - for the end credits.

Then there was dinner at their place. Like the good guests, the significant other and I reached at the communicated hour. Even had a chocolate cake in hand, being excessively polite and all. And when we rang the bell, we heard scampering and muttering on the inside. After three hundred light years, the door opened - to him still in his shabby home clothes, while she had dashed into the shower. I don't even want to know more. Eventually, I wandered off into their kitchen to fix dinner, because it was approaching my bedtime.

With them, we've cancelled and rescheduled plans previously made. Where we were to go out at seven in the evening after lunch with them, we've managed seven alright - the next evening. That's because we had lunch at four, since they didn't come in much before.

Honestly, even babies when born stick better to their due dates.

CHOICES

Disclaimer: Boredom levels on this post may be high(er) than usual. That said, read on.

Do we really make our own choices? Or are we initially conditioned to do stuff/ believe in things, and then later as we grow, convince ourselves that they were really our choices to begin with in the first place?

Take religion, for one. When you're young, you're taught to follow a particular religion, to pray and to learn prayers and rituals that the religion prescribes. Of course, it is only natural that the religion of choice would be the one that your parent(s) follow(s), and not any other say, just because they liked it, or were fascinated by its tenets. Or for that matter, you were. And so we learn.

It's not just about religion. Take food choices, or lifestyle choices otherwise. A person normally settles down to routinely eating what's specific to his/ her community/ region. You start to believe that that's just what you want adopt by way of a routine, because that's what you grew up with. And believe that you chose to yourself.

Of course, as we grow, we do make changes - some may choose to not follow the religion, others may change dietary preferences. And so it goes. But that's later. Initially, it's more about teaching/ learning/ absorbing/ accepting, and only then do choices, and decisions following those choices arise. 

MISSION... MARS!

When news of the country's progress on a count or two hits the headlines - and not in a good way - you know that either people are thinking, protesting, or both. Dunno which is scarier, but I guess it depends on whether you're the powers that be, or a lay person. If the latter, your opinion doesn't count anyway.

That's the case with India proposing to send an expedition to Mars in the coming year. There are, of course, two ways to look at this, as is the case with those age-old glasses that are either half-full or otherwise. So while it sounds like the coolest idea possibly, unsure whether it really is. The reason is, here we are, with people gasping for basics like food/ water/ homes/ education/ jobs/ infrastructure/ generally a better standard of living - and not necessarily in that order - and then we go and spend millions that we don't have to go stick a flag on Mars. Exploring a little closer to home, say in the interiors of smaller towns and villages, would also turn up a fair amount of (possibly nasty) surprises - and at a fraction of the cost. Money that will be saved as a result can then be used towards providing those basics we just talked about a couple of sentences ago. Not that I'm one to say that scientific progress is a route best not taken. It is, but then it's also a matter of picking the right time, among other things. Also possibly the teeny inconsequential factor of working on what the immediate requirement is. Really, at this point, what will we do heading to Mars? Send those same starving people there for a free meal and board? Put up schools there, or build highways? Nope, however much I try, I'm unable to see how that's gonna reduce my ridiculously long commute to work. Or how the daily wage labourer - because labour is cheap here - is gonna up his earning from the current little over two dollars a day.

Was speaking with a friend just yesterday, whose house is currently under renovation. It's running behind schedule, because there's just so much that someone can work from ten a.m. until five p.m., all manual labour under the scorching sun. Even if you do add on more workers, isn't it inhuman to expect them to work endlessly? That was the friend's take on things, and well, it's not incorrect.

Then there's the other headlines, probably more bizarre than any other - that of providing a mobile phone to each citizen in the country. Free talk time included. So where will these people in remote villages charge their phones? From electricity they don't have, or get maybe for a couple hours a week at best?

Maybe we'd be better off on Mars after all.

OF LOVE, DEATH AND ONION PRICES

There have been times in the recent (and not so recent) past when onion prices have literally made people cry here in India. To peel back a few layers, all you need to know is that artificial demand for onion was created, people stockpiled, and boom! onions vanished faster than you could wipe away your tears. Result? Our sudden love for onions, at whatever cost, literally. Until then, I'm sure people didn't hyperventilate or check themselves into hospitals because they hadn't seen an onion. But on the demise of the onion...

It's the same thing with humans. When a person is alive, you really don't hear any good stuff about him. You know, it's always been about how he's been a big so-and-so, how's he trampled more than a few careers in his path, how it's not only his carbon footprint that should have been eliminated much earlier... you get the drift. Suddenly, in death, he's now Mr Popular. The same chap has now sprouted a halo that could wrap itself around the Earth several times.

It's like the drunken uncle in the family. Nobody cared about him, nobody invited him to family dos, and noses wrinkled in disgust if he did turn up, owing to someone's serious lapse in judgement. But now that he's no more, the bottle is long forgotten, and his grieving widow is the favourite aunt, while he has been elevated almost to the heavens. Pun unintended. Of course, his snotty nosed boy, the Cousin No One Could Stand, is now the favourite, without whom all celebrations are incomplete. That one random memory with said uncle now comes to the fore, which up until then was best forgotten. Embellished, of course, such that it would put a brocade tapestry to shame. Everyone is suddenly so close to uncle, aunt and cousin, that everything else pales into insignificance.

Is it, as a friend mused, just human nature? We are raised to believe that we shouldn't speak ill of the dead. Or cry about onion prices.