Has he bought romance back?

Even as a supporter of a rival team, there is something unmistakably attractive about Manchester United. The sight of roaring supporters in The Old Trafford, dubbed aptly as The Theatre of Dreams or the words of Sir Alex Fergusson in describing Manchester United as the most romantic club in the history of world football.  And boy, why not! By now, clichéd but Alan Hansen’s remark “You’ll never win anything with kids!” being proved wrong by a bunch of boys who first signed their first Manchester United contracts as school boys and went on to the perch of footballing hierarchy.  Better teams have graced the football field with better football. The swashbuckling Invincibles, the ruthless Manchester City. But isn’t it romantic when a group of lads who grew up playing football from nearby towns with dreams of playing for the club finally realize it together? Isn’t this what we watch football for?

               Have you already started drawing the parallels? Wasn’t it only a few months back, when the Pundits said, AAP can win a few votes, not seats. And they won, not a few but many.  Sometimes such as in the case, winning fades into oblivion when compared to the climate change he has ushered in. Idealism is back in vogue, Khadi is in fashion, travelling in buses cool and being Indian is proud again. Helpless romantic that I am, watching a CM travelling in Metro makes me go weak. Indeed, it is a far cry from the Modi euphoria where a messiah from far off lands would come in his saffron chariot to relive us of our miserable existence.  Perhaps, after the next elections the helpful iron-wallah could become our next MLA. Within a few months, the government no longer seems to be them but we really seem to be a part of it.

               The romance notwithstanding, I have been troubled by some of the developments.  The unrestrained sops doled out on citizens and the midnights raids on Nigerian women are depressing. Before you train your guns on Kejri, I will like you to bear with me for a few more moments. The AAP claims to be a party formed by the common man (or woman!) of the country. Let us for a moment assume these claims to be true. Ofcourse, the other parties are not formed by maritians. But, let us assume again that because of reasons like dynasty and monetary issues, they field candidates who are cut-off from the common man of the country. Going by AAP’s claims their manifesto is only a representation of people’s aspirations. And it is not tough to imagine the people wanting cheaper electricity or free water or anything at a lesser price. I am not certain if you could imagine the same, but hailing from a lower middle locality in Pune, the raids against Nigerian women would certainly have had blessings of the society. They would have never been a part of the manifesto formation or or hardly would consider them as a part of us. Perhaps, doling out unwanted subsidies could stop in a few years if the feeling that the Government really is not a separate entity. But, honestly subsidies isn’t my biggest concern.

               A deeper concern is, at citizens are we matured enough to handle power? Or as a society are we? We as individuals or families seem to make decisions which would hold us in good stead over the future but as a society we seem focused on retribution for the present.  Governance among ourselves does seem a romantic idea, but should we trust ourselves to this extent? The Khap panchayats and village panchayats are example of self-governance. Why do we shudder when the punishment for a rape is marriage by the perpetrator? The majority of villagers seem to have placed their trust on the Panchayat to agree on the punishment. Why do “we” want to impose our “rules”? Perhaps, they would realize their folly once educated. What if “we” are acting like a Khap panchayat currently? The members who wrote the Constitution were not elected members but they seem to have done a fair job in the circumstances. In the mitigating circumstances post the bloody Partition I can imagine a lot of pressure on the committee to declare India as a Hindu country to which they did not fall prey to.                

               If AAP is really a reflection of our society, we are most probably expected to fail. But, we could learn.

              

Agar Saas Kabhi Bahu Naa Hoti....

Another day at Tulsi's home. The adoring daughter-in-law does not lift her eyes beyond her mother-in-law's knees. The Virani household is just beseiged by another problem and Tulsi, the daughter of a pujari is at the helm of it all. Sometimes hated, sometimes loved by the family, her character is elevated to mythical propositions.!

Business as usual, on Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu thi! Could sense a million tears rolling on the wrinkled faces of a umpteen grandmas, the fair and lovely covered faces of the million Bhabhijis watching it. And the tears seem to increase at an logarithmic[sorry for the technical lingo..:P] scale, with every increasing tear in Tulsi's eyes.

For every single person who loves these tear jerkers, there are two people hate it in magnified propositions. The kids perenially started complaining about their moms getting addicted to tvs and paying the least heed to their dinner tantrums. The husbands were irritated that they didnt get their evening chai when they came home after a 'tiring' day! All said and done, imagine a world without the soap operas?!

An idle mind is a devil's workshop they say. Its a petryifying thought to let loose so many maamis, chittis,aajis, aunties, bhabhis to be engaged in gossip, the next favourite passtime after the soaps! Ah,gossip!! While, the gossips now are dominated by whether Tulsi's sarree was looking fine to how cruel the the youngest scion of the Virani family raped the gal, imagine if the gossips had real life characters as the central leads! One day, you talk to a girl on the road and before you reach home, mom will ready with a broom in hand and a question in mouth, “who kaun thi??”. “Mom, friend!”. “Friend, ya girlfriend!! That mrs. Sharma was telling that girl is 'very bad'!! Dare i see you with her again”. Advantage folks!! Every time, you want to know about that pretty lass who has recently come into column.Look no further. Ask mom! Saves a lot of time and sometimes, insult too..

Not just this.! If not hooked to the tv, am sure she would be hooked more to your mobile! Every time the mobile goes beep beep, get ready to churn out a fictitious name from the same sex. Every time, an Aditi messages you, make sure your genes pronounce it as Aditya!! If you really dare to tell her the truth, wouldnt be surprised if either of you land up in the neighbouring hospital the same night! She, for heart attack..and you for bruised hands caused by intense concoction of broomsticks, hot metal rod and sticks typically used for hanging clothes to dry! And for the kids, you are lucky! You will be spared of the teachers rod, albeit at the expense of two more at home.

Girls!! Some special treatment for you! Everytime, you wear that jean which hugs you more than the salwars, all the nighbouring Sharmajis,joshijis and iyer bhabhis are going to peper your mom with stories of how there was another gal in the nieghbourhood who also wore such outfits and later ran away with a guy! There was no way you could ask your mom for that cute dress which your mom's favourite character was wearing.

All this fine, imagine what would she watch if not these soap operas? Aastha TV?? Ramdev Maharaj and his 'breath-taking' skills!?? And yeah, you would never be able to watch television with that oh-so-familiar argument of “Mom, dont you watch television?!”

Sometimes, i feel all the folks who are perenially against these soap opera are people who tried watching them and failed miserably in understanding it. It, indeed is complex. Here is a small excerpt about KSBKBT in wiki,

“Mihir returns from America and takes over the reins of the family business. He goes to the family temple and there he bumps into Tulsi - the daughter of the family pujari. Savita, Daksha and Gayatri plan Mihir's wedding. Mihir meets a prospective bride called Niharika, but when she seems undecided about what she wants to do, Mihir lies to her parents about his affairs in America, and wiggles out of the match. In steps Payal - with a proposal for Mihir. It is soon taken for granted that Payal will be marrying Mihir. But the differences between the two are apparent - and Tulsi and her dad, the pujari talk about this. Payal, in the meantime, goes over to the Virani household and tries to sniff out the undercurrents in the house. Payal snubs Tulsi. When Mihir hears about this, he goes to apologise to Tulsi. Payal, however, does not apologise for her conduct. She does not go over to meet Chirag either - after he is brought home by the police on suspicions of attempting to kill himself, because he has flunked in his exams. Mihir and Tulsi discover that they like each other. Savita stops Tulsi from coming to her house. “

Life is so much better with saas being once bahu!!

Life on the footboard

A Vajra bus passes by.A young college student asks him, “Saar, shivajinagar hogattha?”. He affirms it with a gentle smile, casts an admiring glance at the beautiful red machine as it slids out of the Majestic bus station leaving a trail of black smoke behind. A long wait follows and there follows another bus whose presence is made obvious to everyone by its old engine craving for oil. This time, another man asks him,albiet in a more menancing tone, “Shivaji Nagar hogattha ri!” Again the same affirmation. This time, he is scrambling hard into the bus, the sweat that drips his forehead resembles the blood that he has to shed everyday at work. The younger ones get in soon. He finally gets one foot on the board. That one leg and one hand holds him. It seems hard to beleive that he goes through this everyday.

There is a subtle similarity in his life. He is hanging on to his job with similar uncertainity. The comforts of a Volvo like bus elude him for lack of skills. He has no option but to cling on this hope. Its does not help that his boss knows this too well. Somehow, God doesnt desert him and he reaches him “safely” after struggling with the mud stushed roads. His left eyes can see his wife waiting with the chapathi stick shouting. “Do we realise how much powder I have to buy to clean the stains!”. His right eye can see his wretched boss issuing his nth warning about the unclean dress! His wife doesnt wash his clothes.Does she? After an adventurous journey back home, his 8 year old jumps on the bed and shouts, “Dad, namma metro to be opened shortly in Bangalore!”. Now, this news puts him in a bigger quandry. He can see his son crying for a ride in the metro train. His eyes can imagine this 8 year to become 18 year old sulking in the BMTC that they ordered two years ago while his friends around in Metros and swanky cars. Another smiling affirmation to his son and he thinks, of What bloody use is the Metro to me!!

After finally “settling” he switches on televison and sits down for his humble meal. Barkha Dutt shouts on the top of her voice, “WE WANT ANSWERS FOR THIS!!”. Answers for questions like “Is the current government corrupt!!”..Answers for questions that the entire country knows. He has got used to this daily tamasha!As he is about to put his first morsel into his starved mouth, there is a small headline at the corner of the TV. “Export prices force inflation of food prices.” His stomach is already full without eating! He reaches out to the pillow. He has had enough of the day.

I wish he has a better sun rise! The life of a man trapped in middle class woes!