Tag Archives: thoughts

I owe no allegiance to Ram and Ravan appears human to me – this Dusshera I wonder if we are overlooking Shakti?

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I owe no allegiance to Ram, because the blues Sita sang still ring in my ears,
I have no qualms in questioning his victory. No excuses, no fears!
They say Ram knew Sita would emerge the winner, thus asked her to walk on fire,
I wonder how different is it, from the argument that was given for Satis, to sit on the pyre?
The image of “maryada purshottam”, seems to be upheld because we never question a God?
Who built this view but, in the first place, who has forced us to follow this shod?
They say, he was the good that won over the evil, he played it all fair,
Then why isn’t the theory of Valmiki Ramayan, where he spoils the yagna of Ravana, ever brought under glare?
He was scared of people, he was scared of hearsay, he was scared of losing and yet you call him “above it all”?
I wonder where did he earn a pedestal, that now I shall make him fall?
The only solace is perhaps that, even Gods come with shades of grey,
That the masculinity they swear by, is nothing but a facade to keep the real insecurities at bay.
The question however is, if his wrongs were so acceptable, why wasn’t Ravan spared the plight?
Why do we not then sing about his vast knowledge and remember him only for his evil fight?
Mandodari never got her due I feel, for she was too progressive for her age.
She loved him, guarded him, yet warned him of evil thoughts and never was scared of his rage.
She was feisty, was tricked and abused at the instructions of Ram, remarried when faced with the option of suicide and yet was never highlighted and acclaimed,
Why I wonder, maybe because she wasn’t the pity female figure who could be framed?
History when one sided, is a strange comfort for religion and fanatics,
We forget however that both Jesus and Judas and determined by our own innate antics!

Who is to be burned? Who is to be hailed? Why is the celebration of Shakti ended with the hailing of the man who never believed in his wife? Why isn’t the woman who refused to give into her husband’s evil plans ever recognised? Why should I not look up to Ravan for his knowledge, when in school we are taught to accept people with shades of grey? Why should I pray for a husband like Ram, when I want a man with a spine?

Heaven shouldn't have kids…

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Yes! yes! yes, you read me right. The heaven that I dream of should have all my favorites – books, dark chocolate, white truffles, cheese, and some more cheese, wine, mushrooms (you get the drift right?) but NOT kids. Kids somewhere do not fit into the surreal world, kids are for this planet, so that their laughter can brighten up the day, so that their smile can make you wish that time could stop and so that their wisdom can make you feel that not all is lost.

To say that I love kids, would be an understatement. I absolutely ADORE kids and mind you I am dead serious about that. I love being around them, taking care of them, changing nappies, telling them stories, cooking, feeding, cleaning, teaching and then craving some more cuddles. While I frequently get the “wait till you have your own” looks from people around me, siblings, cousins and friends are often relieved to have me around when they are with their kids. At ISB too, I was the pioneer in setting up story telling sessions for kids – my defense was that it refreshes me. They cleaned their throats, rolled their eyes and let me be for what is an ivy league B school worth without a few weirdos? :P

Before you go on to ask me about my dreams of a house filled with kids, let me tell you that in all probability mother hood is ready to elude me. I would like to stay positive, hoping that a miracle happens and there is indeed a path breaking medical research, but let’s say on bad PMS days this makes me consume a LOT of chocolate! However, saying that does not take away my being proud of finally being able to sign up for the All Mumbai Single Parents Adoptions Group and starting my visits to the nearby child welfare center (orphanage to me sounds harsh, cause the very definition of the term “orphan” suggests permanent bereavement and abandonment).

This weekend I walked in there, promising myself not to choke like the last time. Alas but, for every weekend is the same story. I sat by the cot, all wrapped in a pink blanket two little eyes stared at me curiously. I was tempted to pick you up my little one, but then me who frets over cleanliness so much and hates it when people do not think twice before picking up babies in their work clothes and exposed hands, how could I do the unthinkable myself? So instead I sat by the cot and cooed and whispered what to me was a prayer for your well being. I could have stayed glued over there for the rest of the evening had not a few little muchkins demand a story telling session from me. I wonder what is it about 4 year olds that makes curiosity such a blessing – curiosity about every little thing, from my hair bands to the ink marks on my jeans, they want to know the story behind everything. I wonder if any day they would want to know the story behind their being left behind at the center by their family? Would they demand to know why despite their being such a long waiting line by couples, such sweet souls willing to adopt, the entire system gives into money game, waiting for green notes from a foreign land?

Yes, children should belong right here in this planet, but then should we bring them to this world unsure of what future we are to provide? I feel sorry for all those mothers who had to take this decision, forced by society, financial plight and reasons galore and then there are those for whom I have no remorse – deviant mothers I called them once, now I want to ask them “What were you thinking lady?” I want kids to fill up the world around me, but then, I want to do that only if I know for sure that, I can make them happy. When people talk about wanting “their own kids” and terming adopted ones with fancy terms, I wonder if they ever consider what makes kids their own and whether there is a dearth of kids on this planet to love?

We share pictures on FB, thinking a dollar would actually be contributed for the well-being of a child, yet we won’t give up a Diwali purchase to make sure a lesser deserving kid has a festive evening. I don’t want to wish a world bereft of kids, but then as I look around I wonder whether these angesl fit any other place better?

This weekend I spent providing legal advice to an old couple – grand parents to two little and adorable inhabitants of the welfare home. Let us call them G and S. G was 4 (and then S was 1) when G’s father set fire on their mother in front of her eyes. G remembers the incident vividly (now 6) and is a key witness to the case. They should try to rehabilitate and make her forget the episode, smother her with love and care, but then here it is the opposite. G’s (late) mother gave the dying declaration (fearing harm on her kids and knowing that she won’t be around to protect them) that it was an accident. G’s grandparents have however registered a case for murder against the father and since G is the only one to corroborate the fact, her memory is crucial. To safe keep her the court has placed both her and her brother under the care of welfare home. The case I know will take years to be resolved and might even be lost in the process, what happens then to G and S, don’t ask me for I know for sure that they won’t be adopted!

G asked her grandmother (as we were wrapping up our meeting) if she could go home with her for just one day and it almost killed me there. I took her in my arms and cuddled and smothered her till she was distracted enough to let her grandmother leave. As I left and those little palms waved me good-bye, I knew they didn’t belong there, they belonged in a much better place filled with love and devoid of vices. But, the question is WHERE? For the world outside is hungry for their blood, the eyes out here will scrape the little minds, the world in that welfare home is without a future, where is it that these kids should belong them? I wonder, I ask!!!

Doing my bit to spread awareness about Violence About Women (VAW)

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Gender studies is something which I hold very close to my soul – over the last eight years it has somewhere intrinsically made itself a part of my identity of who I stand for.

When I look back I see a confused girl walking on the grounds of the law school, wondering if she could ever know what she really wants to do in her life or would she ever get the “heart calling” which she had only read about in books.

Two years later, as I stood at the UNESCO forum, being the youngest ever delegate in its 60 years history, speaking about globalization and its effect on Indian women, I surprised myself by making sense and inviting praises. Since then, there has been no looking back and some where I am glad that my life did find its calling. My book stands witness to the fact about how passionately I feel about the cause. To me it is not taking to the streets, but I have chose to bridge the gap of inequality “one book/ article at a time” .

When Bell Bajao (an international initiative by Breakthrough under the Ministry of Women and Child Rights, India) approached me to pen down a piece that would spread awareness about VAW, I wanted to do complete justice to it.

I brainstormed over all topics already written by me and wondered if there was anything that I wanted to re visit? I recollected all the stories which I have collected during my various field trips to find a topic. Yes, I did and at that moment I could run and hug Muriel Rukeyser (poet and social activist) who had once told that – “The Universe is made of stories, not of atoms”

I have heard screams behind doors and being told to ignore. I have seen parents fight in front of kids and none minded the language or the decibels. I have seen men being termed “better” than the other because a loose tongue cannot be compared to the hand that is raised to hurt! It is ok for him to scream, he is the man and he has a temper – haven’t we all heard that. However, my personal experiences have shown me how bad the effects of “verbal abuse” can be. Yes, it is a form of violence and abuse and it is time we face it.

So, this October 2012, in the spirit of spreading awareness about Violence Against women, I have taken a stand against “verbal abuse” and demanded that it be treated as one of the most degrading form of violence that effects the body, soul and the very existence to the very core and leaves us empty and battered.

Here is my interview with Bell Bajao about my views on VAW - http://www.bellbajao.org/interview-violence-against-women-awareness-month-sagarika-chakraborty/

Here is my article on “verbal abuse” ( I would love to know your thoughts on it” - http://www.bellbajao.org/feature-words-should-be-empowering-but-sadly-often-sum-up-to-stand-for-verbal-abuse/

Do read and let me know if you agree to stand up and join hands with me?

Insensitive them or Extra-sensitive moi?

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In law school one of the very first principles that we encountered as 1st year students was the “egg skull/ shell” theory – which to state in simple terms lays down that you cannot blame a person for being negligent when you are over sensitive!

Why this? Am I teaching you Law of Torts 101 – oh hell NO! Am swamped editing a 600 pager manuscript for my upcoming law book and trust me after I get done with that, I don’t think I want to impart legal gyaan for a long long time.

This is because of some food for thought that has accumulated over the weekend and I am thinking whether it’s them or is it me, who needs a refresher course on dealing with people!

Them here can be divided into two categories – those who think being close is asking for free copies of the book and the other category is those who do not really know what a joke is.

Disclaimer are those BFF’s who are reading and have joked about a signed copy when I get a best-seller going *the sneaky me agreed knowing that there is no best seller in sight – ha ha ha :D * – this is NOT for you (also it is a different fact, that despite the jokes ALL of you have bought the book and never really waited for me to courier a copy – My darlings muaaah!). This is for that “mama ke bete ke tau ke school friend ke chachi ne behen ke mausa ke friend ke FB contact ke bhai ke Twitter buddy ke nati ke dost” who just happens to be an acquaintance and truly feels that since he / she knows you it is but your duty to gift them a copy of your book, with a long hand written note saying how much he / she means to you and with the gifting comment that if he/ she doesn’t like the book then you shall ask your publisher to withdraw it from the market!

If you refuse however, you get to hear that you are just being an @$$ as the publisher has definitely given you an unending mountain of free copies! The stingy you is then given looks that can even burn down the library at Alexandria and for a long time at every meeting you are told tales of your inconsiderate behavior.

I asked one of them if they ever knew what went into writing a book? One I asked if she would be happy if her husband worked without a salary because after all he was helping friends! True to my expectations she got flustered and dared me to utter one more word against her husband. I just smiled and she hurled that she husband is an “ENGINEER” and thus his profession cannot be joked about. She was “just joking” with me as people usually crack such jokes at “Authors” – esp the not famous ones! Yes she said that! :)

The conversation that followed is not what bothers me, what bothers me is her mindset and what I considered ignorance and insensitivity! :/

The other acquaintance pinged from US of A to let me know that he had “downloaded my book” – horror of horror for any author. With the piracy market on the rise, I know how much precautions I take to ensure that no pdf is actually found on the net of ACTC. It means running late night searches, pleading tech friends to help me and a lot of other things. However, we do not think of all this because it is yet again a joke people like me should be used to. Also, am a strong supporter of anti-piracy, I truly believe that creativity does come with a price tag just like the shampoo you love and are willing to spend for! If you expect it for free, you are actually promoting a very dark future! The conversation flinched me:

Time and again I have wondered how people find such things to be funny, when did we lose respect for emotions and sentiments? The brilliance of the most common retort amazes me : “Of course, now you have become way too big for jokes from friends like us” or the complete opposite : “Who do you think you are, Jhumpa Lahiri that I should think twice before talking to you!”

I have always acted like me, the mirror still smiles the way it used to 6 months back! I still am the goofy, sarcastic moi with my girl gang – to me I haven’t changed and to all those who think I have, am proud of the change! :) Also, the fact that it’s not about me – it is about the mindset towards a profession that I speak for! Why shouldn’t you pay a doctor just because he/she is a friend? Why should you pay a lawyer because you know him from school? Why do we have to mix friendship with the professional services an individual has to offer and then when questioned, turn personal?

Still somewhere the food for weekend thought is – have I suddenly developed a weak egg skull? Or do you also find it as distasteful humor as I do?

All that was playing in the background as I typed this was “respect’ by Aretha Franklin on a loop:

(Re)Introducing the Mistah :P

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*Mush alert, the hooting girl gang kindly excuse* :P

It’s been ages since I wrote here. I mean the actual “write-write” posts and not review updates. All of a sudden today I had the craving for my space. Well, the craving has been there for the past few days but I just did not know how to pen things down. I did not want to rant, for I am bored of my own rants (yes yes no matter how ROFL you go over them, they are all my poor brain has to endure these days!) and yes the fact that BFF’s thunder cannot be stolen till her highness updates her blog. So I was left with nothing, well nothing but to count my blessings for once ;) … and thus this ….

I decide to introduce the “Mistah”! Yup, Y as you all know him is being re-christened and re-introduced. Nah, this is not a re-entry of the look alike as in the Bollywood flicks for he never disappeared and secondly thank you, but no thank you I think one of his genre is enough! (ohhhh that’s a compliment in case you are reading this my man! ;P ). Why now? Why this? Mainly because I get random pings these days by people who are discovering my blog *gloats and floats that her bog is not lost after all* that who is Y and why this particular consonant to refer him on the blog?

Well Y is perhaps the most constant variable in my life. I never really liked X for the mystery factor it brings in and then when I met Y, nothing but the said consonant suited him. Also, as I tell people I always felt that he holds the answers to all my question’s in life. Those days of childhood when your dad is your hero, suddenly seemed to have competition when I asked him the toughest question I faced and he answered it without looking up from the laptop which sometimes I doubt is the biggest threat to my existence! (No asking me what was the question please! :P )

However, all said and done after the random pings I decided I had to change the name – mainly coz the consonant has come to become the only constant factor that keeps me counting my blessings in life. There are days when I give up on myself and find him waiting for me to come around. There are other days when I am mad at him for not goofing around or playing along and instead being the workaholic self, but then a few days where I am in my worst self make me realize that the “Mistah” is actually the best answer to life’s problems.

I love the way he stands by everything I do, and though he might not agree with all my passions in life guess I respect him for the respect he shows for my wishes. The way he lets me pursue my heart, fall and learn for he knows am too stubborn for own self awes me. That’s why perhaps that day when someone asked me why do you love him so much I couldn’t help but tell her that -

“because he takes me in an his princess, trains me as a warrior and then sets me free to fight my own battles in life. All the while standing by being my knight in shining armor but never hurting my ego or my respect.”

He survives the worst of me at his best thus needless to say he makes the best of me look like a cake walk – guess that’s the beauty of inter-twined fingers and squeezing of hands. It’s just been 3 strides in this journey of life and walking towards that horizon, but the best is that my Mistah, you make the sunset storms too look pretty after they have passed, like gasping over a perfectly captured photograph that doesn’t highlight blemishes of fury, but the strength of nature :) … I owe a lot to you, to those talks in my head when my own voice is drowned in self doubt, for ignoring those stupid mails which I am too ashamed to even look at the sent items folder (ohhh I’ll even write him a mail, if he’s sleeping next to me and I am upset over something – yea weird but me!), or those silent strength vibes you pass when I am too low to even say what’s wrong. And yes for the highs there are the M&M fights, the goofy long drives, the nonsensical arguments over youtube songs and yes the way you turn the tables around after each goof! (You do. you do, you do! :P )

Thus, this is for you Mistah – for you with whom I am sure I’ll discover all answers that life has in store for me and in my favor, for you have this uncanny knack of turning things around for me whenever I pout with a “Why me?” :)

And just so that you come back and ask me what the lyrics of the song mean, I post this. Have I ever told you I choose all my dedications to you in Hindi because I love interpreting them to you over a common language adding a bit of how I feel for you – yes I cheat, but bleh, what’s life without a bit of those add ons :)

*touchwood*

Tum Ho Toh …

I came to breathe, you gave me life…

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I have nothing to say as I walk away,

Re-birth they say,

I nod.

 I am not leaving, just walking away a bit only to return to live a life, the seeds of which you’ve sown in my eyes! Don’t cry, for there’s a part of me, that’s you and I carry that along in the glint of my smile.

“We miss when we remember, we remember when we forget, habits just live on through breath – you are the habit called LIFE, Mumbai!!!”

Back again soon. Till then, Bhalo Theko* majha** Mumbai

————————————————

* – Stay Well (Bengali)

** – My (Marathi)

Safely tucked away …

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Just when I thought the ‘story’ was over, the book tumbled out of my hands. An old pressed flower intact – as if the life I sought to deny was still there in it’s wilted form. I picked it up and stared hard, the printed letters hazed in the background. Where was this picked from? What was it’s color (lavender of course!) ? And why today after so long, when I was just about to wrap the story and push in somewhere against the dark corners of the mind (the heart is long closed)?

 

Why are you confusing me again today by reminding me of the fragrance that no longer lingers in the air? Why are you luring me to preserve you a bit more, when I know that all that shall remain are bits and pieces of a lovely being that once was? Life cannot be infused in again right? No matter, how much I try to smell, all that fills up the nostrils is dry whiffs of dust!

 

I don’t want to erase you off, I don’t want to crumple you away – I want wilted memories to stay – securely tucked away within the pages of our unfinished story. I wish I could pick up again the last page sometime, where the pressed flower lay, but somewhere I guess the fear is that a wind might even break the reminiscent of what remains.

 

Some relationships are best defined in novels – guess I should leave ours too there. It’s better to have a memory with a hope, than to live a life of despair!

 

Stay good, tucked away within the pages of “Love Stories from Mahabharata”! 



Tuesdays with Tamanna!

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 The irony is Tamanna and I, never met on Tuesdays! Tuesdays and Thursdays used to be the most difficult days of the week for they were her counselling days. Tantrums, cajoling, temper shoots, love musings a mix of all was needed to see through these two days with A (her BMC counsellor) and today as I spend the last Tuesday here, I am suddenly gripped with a strange nostalgia, of whether I fared well in this test of mentorship, for remember I wasn’t a mother?

T’s mythophobia scared me beyond my wits. It wasn’t those sudden unearthing of  events that make me gape in wonder that unnerved me, it was the extent of damage they were causing to her psyche that was the major concern. While we struggled through our lives and the emotional baggage we both carried the most important thing that I sought to make her understand that there was a fine line of distinction between lies and imagination. And that while the latter was healthy the former was a strict NO!

To explain her the difference I introduced her to Calvin and Hobbes and tried to unearth before her the power of imagination and that how Calvin never really ‘lied’. I tried to tell her that lies meant her trying to show her own self as someone she’s not. I succeeded at times when she told me the truth about cheating in a ‘maths’ test one day to score the highest and then I failed when her teacher asked me if she really had a cousin in US who was seeking to sending a her Wii for her birthday?

When she once cooked up stories about her trip-in-dreams to Iggatpuri I asked her if she really did this to fit in to a group or whether she was really uncomfortable in being in the skin she was in? In her innocent defensive mechanism she said that she found it ‘fun’ to cook stories. And so as I indulged in pretend play of ‘Teacher Student’ with her somewhere I realised that her very back ground troubled her. She liked to remain in a dream world where everything was exactly opposite. Where people spoke differently, wore different kinds of clothes and had a different lifestyle. She wanted the world to see her as someone she was not. Only because she had this image in her head that that life was ‘fun’.

While this was her ‘imaginative’ mind, the problem lay in her incessant lying to her classmates about her social conditions, about her background and the type of lifestyle she indulged into. She once lied to her teacher that her Marathi marks were poor because everyone only spoke in English at home!

One year and T taught me patience, taught me how difficult it is to maintain a strict face when your child cries but you know you have to be strong to teach her right and wrong. And that though later you’ll crave to pick her in your arms and cajole her saying it’s ok, you will not, instead you’ll just wonder and wonder that how it is not ok!

I couldn’t cure her fully that I would ramble about it here, but suddenly I felt to note down these thoughts? Why today? Maybe because all of a sudden as I stand to leave T and go I am gripped with this sense of self analysis on whether I have been too strict at times? Whether I have lost out on the fun play aspect with her and taken her childish follies too seriously? Whether I have been a paranoid pseudo-mother who was too motivated to do things right?

It’s not that I never had fun, I remember spinning a ‘why butterflies don’t get wet’ tale for her in the most imaginative way while people around me either quit saying they have full faith in my power of imagination or Googled the scientific reason for me to spill out?

It’s just that I am indulging in a self critique today. As I sat in the bus I struggled with this analysis and spoke to the two people I always talk to in my head – GM and Y! But then something else comforted me too and that brought me to actually write this to be frank!

Packing and moving on you discover things which you think are long lost! I discovered my old tattered copy of kiddie Gita today, the one which is ear-marked with all of GM’s favourite teachings. As I smiled and ruffled the pages I stopped at where Krishna says that lies are ok if they are to save your skin, but the moment you lie and that hurts anyone emotionally or physically, even if it’s in your unknown being, know that you have sinned?

I just sought to save T from hurting others and in turn her own self in the long run, GM. So guess you wouldn’t be too disappointed with me, right? I just wanted to make her understand that it’s important that she turns out to be a person whom people accept and love for what she is and for not what she pretends to be, for then she would be lying about her own identity. What would be worse than a self identity crisis, right GM?

T, I hope when I am back from my ‘tour’ (yes she thinks I am off for another office tour, but yes a long one!), I find you as a person who’s happy and confident and loves her own reflection in the mirror!

Loads of Love and Wishes

Are you "Faithful" or a "Keeper of Relationship"???

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I am a stickler for public transport. I mean give me the option for a chauffeur driven car and train/ bus passes I’ll gladly settle for the latter, for any ride in the former bores me out of my wits! I love looking at people, interpreting their background/ thoughts and yes often picking up a few snippets of their conversation too (yes, yes BAD GIRL moi!!!)

Last evening on train as I shuffled through my IPod for that one song which had suddenly disappeared, my ears shot up when I picked up a few words from my neighbor. She was on phone, apparently narrating to a friend about her sister-in-law who woke up that morning to discover an ‘unknown mobile’ in her husband’s pocket and cross questioning led to a calm husband telling her about his affair and how he’s not remorseful of what he’s done. As I went back to my IPod, my mind somewhere loomed around the conversation.

I thought about the wife and tried to picture a distraught her, but could not! I tried imagining the husband, blowing circles of smoke out of tension, but failed there too! I tried to picture the ‘other woman’ and in fact smiled for all I could imagine was a hazy face and a recent post by MM!

Fidelity – the most essential thing we are taught as a kid when introduced to the concept of marriage. “Dog is the most faithful companion of man” – haven’t we all at some point of time read this in our textbooks along with the reason that a dog sticks to his master through thick and thin?

And then we grow up to witness advertisements like of a famous Russian vodka company which boldly reads, “Married by the Day, Single by the Night” or the recent Micromax ad where two boys think they are dating the same girl, but are relieved when they find differences in her mobile colour (interchangeable mobile covers can help you maintain an array of boyfriends without getting anyone suspicious, apparently!) and wonder what has fidelity come to?

Somewhere to be serious I find the entire concept of fidelity to be not only over-rated but also mis –interpreted. One look at all the television soaps floating around and you’ll come to interpret fidelity as always sticking by your spouse’s side throughout the day instead of thick and thin! There even a jog with the opposite gender or a drive is capable of bringing in doubts! And then with the entire concept of miscellaneous spouses being so apparent on EACH and EVERY soap, I think we have got our concepts totally mixed up!

I mean I wouldn’t hold up my guy for an outing with his female jing bang, or for a drive with a girl!  But yes, I admit I wouldn’t take it lying down if any of the above is done with the tag line of the above mentioned ad! But somewhere while the entire scenario today has come to hint at fidelity to be shattered once it leads to a different bed-game, for me the definitions are a bit modified. To clarify, I feel that somewhere even if my guy sleeps with me each night and I do everything to ensure that, is that enough to have a peaceful sleep? Isn’t a mind game where despite of lying with me on the same bed, but his mind and heart somewhere else amount to cheating/ fidelity towards me? Is the sense of trust today only restricted to physical intimacies?

The other thing that has always irked my previous generation is my take on ‘falling out of love’ in relationship. I fail to understand as to why we need to hold on to a failing relationship just for the heck of it! Didn’t we all have our first teenage crush only to let it go (no exception stories here please!), didn’t you discard the doll that you promised to hand down to your daughter at age 5? Then why can’t we decide the same for a relationship when the entire essence of love leaves it? Just sticking by each other to put up a sham marriage for the society, doesn’t that equally violate the definition of fidelity?

Kids, did you say? Aah by sticking around what are we teaching them? That it’s OK for one party to actually take it laying down whatever is being offered, for the ‘greater good’? We think we try to teach them harsh realities of life so that they don’t repeat ‘mistakes’ but in the end by sticking around aren’t we teaching them that there are people who’ll still carry on with a relationship despite fidelity being shoved up their face???

The other thing that irks me is the definition of ‘other woman’ and the concept of her wronging the entire world! When in reality how do you defined being wronged? Ain’t all 3 parties in equal footing (presuming the spouse who decides to stick by for the ‘society’). Why is the ‘home breaker’ so tagged always? Why is the spouse refusing to come out in the open to admit things gone astray seen as faithful? If the OW is a ‘keep’ isn’t the spouse a ‘keeper of a failed relationship’?  

I will not say that I am a cool, easy going person when it come to my guy. No I am possessive in my own way and have my share of blues to when he ignores me or when I think he’s not paying me attention. But somewhere the entire concept of fidelity to me arises much before he leads somewhere else to bed. To me it’s not cool even to just have ‘fun’ with another person and the defense that no physical play is involved doesn’t stand. To me it’s more about the way we are connected in the mind that gives rise to the entire concept of ‘ties’ and not whether he and his childhood bum chum actually shared a room in the back packing trip?

But yes, I will never allow myself to be tagged as a ‘keep’ for there’s no such term in love and neither will I allow myself to be a ‘keeper’ for in self dignity there’s no such term!

I think we are utterly confused here today, so what’s your take on fidelity?

In case you have somethign to say, please consider yourself tagged and do a post and yes don’t forget to link it back!

 

Mumbai Mondays 12 – It's a Fishy Affair!!!

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There’s a silent mental preparation I do whenever I go out dining with new set of people. As I put final touches to my ‘maggi curls’ I stands in front of the mirror and promise to myself that I won’t react when during ordering for food I am exclaimed at for the 1875684th time – “What you are a Bengali and you don’t have fish!!!!”

 Well yes, I know you guys make it sound like its worse than being an unchaste Brahmin girl, but so be it! I hate fish. Period. Oops sorry “Dot” – my new fascination after watching Rajnikanth’s Robot!

Though my gustatory calyculi (yes, I am just showing off that I know the scientific term for taste buds!) repel fish, those various Sunday morning escapades with Baba, tagging along proudly holding the ‘jhola’ to the Fish market has somewhere made my olfactory glands immune to the smell of raw fish. And so when I decided to cover Sassoon Docks for Mumbai Mondays, M thought I would faint, but I knew better!

Built in 1875 on reclaimed land,by Albert Abdullah David Sassoon (1818–1896), son of David Sassoon, a Baghdadi Jew and the leader of the Jewish community in Bombay, belonging to the Sassoon family, the dock the biggest dock in Mumbai and one of the few docks in the city open to the public.

Just off Cuff Parade in South Mumbai, the dock is best visited at dawn. The first local at 4 am took us there and I had one of the most awesome train rides here in Mumbai with only a few fish vendors to give us company. (And albeit stare with their sleepy eyes at a hyper active me doing beyoncing in train – all excited because she was out covering for MM!!!!)

The stench of fish near the port shows you the way through darkness and the alley of boats forms a beautiful trail that encompasses the entire semi circular stretch.

This colourful waterfront is a favorite haunt of local gourmets and restaurateurs who throng here for quality seafood at dawn, when the trawlers unload their catch.

People can buy baskets of shrimp, lobster, bony mackerel and fleshy pomfret at wholesale rates.

There are also cold storage places from where one can buy cleaned and filleted varieties which is earmarked for export.

Fisherfolk bring in their catch from the deep seas and by 5:30 the auctioning and bargaining of the stuff is at full bloom.

The locals say that those fish that survive the dawn break, rarely get sold, for the choicest ones are always picked up in darkness!

If the smell and the stench irks you, the smiling faces of the people and the beautifully weaved baskets and the array of ships overlooking the Marine Mumbai stretch and the Oyster Dock makes you switch off and witness one of the loveliest sunrise any city can ever offer!

Photography is strictly prohibited and the area is more cordoned after the terror attacks of 2008, but the spirit of Mumbai still runs high. So when we requested for a few photographs we were smilingly indulged into what was ‘against the law’ of the land!

Surrounded by the Colaba fishing village, we had the time of our lives identifying surmai, pomfret, prawns and lobsters. And when the sigh of the fishes got a bit too gruesome I turned towards the boat and make shift dry ice counters to keep myself fascinated.

Round it off with a heavy breakfast at the Britannia café or Indigo at Colaba Market and you have one of the best Sundays ever. Only till the time your mother calls you at 11 am to find you mumble to her that you have just hit bed after come back from a fishing village!

“But why on earth will you go to a fishing village at almost midnight???” , she asks!

“Because Ma that is the only time nobody is bothered as to whether I am a fish addict or a photography addict”, I mumble.

“Can’t you visit places like other normal girls of your age, like discos , pubs and parlors??? What did I have when I was about to deliver you I wonder”, she thinks out aloud.

“Definitely Fish Ma! For else my affairs and trails wouldn’t be so fishy right??”, I crack up groggily.

Does anyone know of a good site that can deliver some fish to make my mother talk to me! :P

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Mumbai Mondays is all about seeing Mumbai and its surroundings through my eyes. It’s my take to introduce you to a city and its surroundings which I love, as I see it – alone and often with friends (we call ourselves the Mumbai Mad Caps). It’s a thread that goes live every Monday. I cover places randomly and welcome suggestions too. You can find more posts about Mumbai Mondays here.

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