Lapses of lingy…

Am currently in Delhi for the fashion week. And having a good time.

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Yesterday, the cutest thing happened. Popped over to Slug’s house to stay the night. We entered her house, Slug went into the bedroom and her expression completely changed. She looked terrified and she called me (almost yelped actually) to have a look. I hesitated lest it should be a dead person or live snake lying in wait.

I went and peered into a paper bag kept stashed in the corner. Inside, lay two of the cutest kittens on the planet lying all curled and entwined in each other’s fur. They resembled tiny ginger-coloured fur balls.

We figured that the mother had sneaked in through the window while Slug was out. We tried to feed the Kitty’s some milk, but I guess they were too tiny to drink from a bowl. At about 2 am the mom tried to sneak in, but when we went to the window shoe darted away. So, this morning we left the kittys outside the window, of course all covered in blankets and soft tissues paper and with some milk for the mother. We hope she comes and feeds them.

A weird thing happened yesterday: this chap in my office asked me if I gay. I was quite shocked. I suppose it’s because I never speak about the men I date or drop lines about finding this chap hot or that actor soooo dishy. On the other hand maybe I have been fending off vibes that I may have received or am receiving from the chaps in office. One can’t blame me. One office romance that went sour had left a bad taste in my mouth. However, I am not cynical about such things or for that matter, any aspect in the romance department. In fact, I feel so damn lucky that I am not in a bad relationship or a bad marriage. My time for such things is today and tomorrow. If it was yesterday, it would have been a disaster.

Anyway coming back to what my office bud said to me, I told him that I have had relationships with men. And he’s like, O but that’s in the past. And then I’m like, honey I must be the most self-aware human being on the planet. I have already surpassed the phase where I was wondering if I was gay or not. It turns out I am not.

And o yes, am singing next weekend at a restaurant in the suburbs. Yippee!!

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On Saturday I attended a Hindustani classical recital, a tribute to Ustad Amir Khan. I drifted into sweet slumber to the drone of the tanpura (which according to Meera resembles a woman’s well-endowed bottom). Think I’m going to pick up some similar music because I find it rather soothing. We saw a short video which paid tribute to the maestro. The simplicity of those times and the passion in the music pierced my heart.

The fanfare with which we celebrate today’s popstars seems is so manufactured and wasteful in comparison. And of course the talent is often in short supply.

The video brought back memories of my mom telling me that when she went off to Pune to study for college, she packed two dresses for the entire semester. She told me this while I was stuffing two suitcases with clothes, shoes, perfume, music and a whole lot more material objects, for my semester at Pune University.

Pundit hari Prasad Chaurasia played the bhansuri, which was lovely. At certain times when he rushed through a quick medley, I would shut my eyes to discover that it almost sounded like a violin being plucked at the speed of lighitining. Quiet fascinating.

Chandra read a book during the performance. He aspires to read at least one book a month and he is very likely to surpass his goal if he attends more concerts.

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Met this chap yesterday who was once the proud owner of a dance bar in Bangalore. I blinked a couple of times when he told me this, but it was obvious that he was used to such reactions. I suppose I envisioned the owner of a dance bar to be this seedy looking person of dubious character. But this chap looked very yuppy meets boy-next-door. The dance bar was originally a restaurant, which never managed to take off. He maintains that the food was excellent. But it had a flight of steps which spiralled all the way up to the first floor and proved an obstacle for women in high heels (and there were quite a few of them). That’s how the menu metamorphosed from serving Thai fare to Thigh fare

The enterprise was very profitable. However, it shut down post the ban on dance bars. Apparently this chap’s women friends wanted to visited the place. He suggested that they could visit anytime before working hours and do all the dancing they wanted. He would then throw money at them!

We exchanged house hunting and frightful landlady stories post that. And it’s obvious this city has some of the scariest landladies ever. Most of them are obssessed with cleanliness and that includes keeping cushions at exactly the same incline as decided by them.

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It’s an unfair world. We no long have cable TV courtesy  a PIL filed up a lecturer who is offended by adult movies being aired on private movie channels. So, the high court passes an order that channels must withdraw them. And they do just that. Next, the police raid all the cablewallas and there’s a TV blackout. Blasphemous!

I can’t imagine a life without TV. Yes, I love books, films, travel, cooking and all of that. But TV is TV. We take inspiration from TV and TV takes inspiration from us couch potatoes. Besides are people going to stop watching adult films cause you can’t view them on TV? Besides, why would they stop watching them in the first place? It’s a free country.

My plans of swinging along with the ab-solute-ly dishy Micheal Buble are dashed! Another friend shall be deprived of Rockstar Supernova.

According to a colleague the lecturer must be an ‘old hag’ — who isn’t getting any, I add. Mean but possibly true.

My friend who strictly echoes Gandhiji’s stance on protests and non-violence, shall be watching an adult flick on DVD tonight.  

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Micheal Buble sounds VERY cool! Fans of swing should catch his performance on Tuesday 10 pm on Star World.

Am developing a Carrie-like fetish for shoes and what’s weirder is that the last 4 pairs of shoes I picked up are blue. Is that sub-conciously my favourite colour? Apparently blue is the colour of passion. Interesting…

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Mr Big and Carrie get together after all. Maybe hope still floats for the rest of us singletons too

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A friend of mine, an amateur tarot reader interpreted my cards yesterday. The results sound a wee bit sinister. They predicted something to the effect of someone using me to further their own private agenda. It said very clearly: Stay sceptical. Such predictions sent a chill down my spine, for a brief moment. Sounds like a warning. Merril beware! Meera swears by www.tarot.com. Apparently she has received many gems of wisdom from it.

Altaf is back from a stint in Caux. Next he might go on a trip to the US. The agenda would be: explain to the average American how the world functions. That may prove to be quite a task. He wants to know all about the developments of the last few months when he has been away. Who said what to whom, who is with whom etc Sends me into gossip columnist mode.

Have spread the word about KANK and inspired some people to watch it. Luckily none of them want to hit me. Meera and Sana wish to take the risk and think I must be present with them while they take it. Now, I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. One dysfunctional type said he liked Omakara but liked KANK even more. Now, he wants to know if something is drastically wrong with his taste in movies

The newbee on the horizon speaks  A LOT.  

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You might want to kill me for saying this.

BUT I LIKED the film KANK aka Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna.

It isn’t really about infidelity, loveless marriages or failure as much as it is about incompatibility in romantic relationships. And this issue is relevant today, more than ever in Indian society because the divorce rates are soaring like the temperature.

I never could relate to Karan’s previous films which dripped corny. I would say that even this KANK is a wee bit corny and you have glam getups and fashionable sets. However, I don’t see that as a problem because the film explores a specific relationship issue in depth. As for the fanfare, that seems to be a part and parcel of the Karan kitty.

In KANK nothing is black and white, no one is wrong or right. There are many shades of grey, there’s sensitivity, there’s passion, there’s angst, there’s frustration, people make mistakes, people get hurt, people forgive…all these elements make up real life. The dialogues had me in splits for the first half. The second half I personally found unpredictable.

Relationships especially in an urbane context seem so complex and I cannot look towards someone from another generation to set the benchmark. How do I know this is the right person for me? Or do I embrace a relationship because I feel lonely, bored or both? The bottom-line: We are often driven to accept relationships, because we feel — what if I never find love? We play it safe and tread on our toes. Or we throw ourselves into one crazy liasion after another and end up being cynical and jaded.  

The answers sometimes they exist between the covers of a book, somtimes in a cryptic tarot reading, sometimes real life springs up an insight. It’s a journey of discovery with bits and peices coming together slowly but surely. KANK did add a little to this jigsaw puzzle.
As my editor (who liked the film) says: This film is meant for an older audience.

And by older I suppose he means those who are in their late 20’s and above. However, I think younger audiences should see this film cause it does bring home a couple of home truths about relationships, marriage, the whole shebang.

I usually don’t like Shah Rukh onscreen. But I think he did a good job as a character to has been shortchanged by life and his own choices. The rest of the cast was great too.

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Sana has started wearing a hijab. She wanted to know: how do people react to women in hijab? How would she react to herself in one? We went out for lunch one day many months back and she explained why she must do this and I gave her my blessings for the experiment. Yesterday we met up for lunch again and she regaled us with tales of her hijab experiences. Someone asked her if she is a Palestinian. Another asked if she wore the hijab whilst bathing and sleeping too. She doesn’t lose her temper or feel exasperated by such queries. She satiates their curiosity with patience; these are opportunities to discuss her religion and bust certain myths and pre-conceived notions without trying too hard or getting preachy.

What exasperates me though, is that when most of us see people with oriental features, we refer to them as ‘those chinkies’ and think they are Chinese or Japanese. ‘Those chinkies’ are from the north eastern part of our country. They are Indians. And they are individuals and not clones of each other. We cannot distiguish their features, mostly because we don’t bother to notice them.

Currently reading Sex And The City by Candace Bushnell. The HBO series took inspiration from this bestseller, which in reality is VERY different from the book. The latter drips with cynacism. It’s set in New York, of course and doesn’t paint a very pretty picture of the uber-urbane, fairly successful career-oriented types in the city. There’s a variety of sex that’s not really marginal but mainstream: threesomes, sex clubs, flings, one-night stands, sugar daddies etc etc etc. The writer is part of this jet set and relates conversations and real life inscidents. Carrie, Sam Jones and Mr Big are just characters in the book. No one beleives in love or looks for it. The book is a journey into a harsh, parallel universe that you want to know more about but run away from and not necessarily ever step into.

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