The Inorbit Mall (near the traffic) and the buildings: Built on untreated garbage

Development is an umbrella term that hides many truths. It assumes the status of progress and many times this assumption is kept out of the periphery of observations.

A common social and political rhetoric states that Mumbai is progressing. It implies that buildings are erected over slums, without any relocation or other plans for the slum dwellers. Thereby, the seeds of class conflict are sown.

One important progressive area of Mumbai is the stretch between Goregaon and Malad and it houses the well-known Inorbit Mall and the Mindspace complex that hosts several IT companies and BPOs. There is something special about this place.

It is built on a dumping ground. Generally that’s how all buildings are constructed; something is uprooted or destroyed and the foundation of a new building is laid. However, it seems that a part of this reconstruction process was avoided by the K Raheja Group, that constructed the mall and the complex.

A background to the construction should shed light on the real nature of development.

“I would never walk near the dumping ground on which they have made this mall. Now I am a very frequent visitor to the mall. But this place sued to be a mess earlier”, recalls a resident staying here for twenty years.

Complaints were lodged against the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) that used this area as a dumping ground. It acquired the plot in 1968 and for up to thirty years, 1000 tonnes of garbage was thrown here daily. This is the background of progress. The foundation.

Thirty years of dumping garbage in an area that was largely made up of trees and marshland but still hosted some residencies.

“The area smelled, of course and windows had to be shut at all times”, says the resident whose grouse then was not just a complaint. The ‘smell’ that she is referring to is toxic smell. Capable of giving you daily illness. In thirty years the garbage was untreated. Residents complained but nobody paid heed to them. “There were lesser residencies then”.

And then in 2002, the plot was closed for dumping following orders from the Supreme Court of India. It had been realised that the plot could no longer take 1000 tonnes of garbage daily.

The BMC gave the plot to Ivory Properties, part of K Raheja Group. What can you possibly build on a marshy land? So they had to cover it. The garbage from the plot was used as a leveller; the marshy land was filled up. The Mindspace complex and the Inorbit Mall were constructed. The garbage remained untreated. 

The development of this area, then, is not an act of progress but bad business sense, assuming that the builders and the BMC would be held responsible for possibly endangering the health of residents. Because in all probability, the air is filled with toxic methane and hydrogen sulphide.

Progress was never on the mind of the city-makers as can be observed from photographs (below). The area is still populated by illegal slum-dwellers, who, according to a local resident, “would consider the price offered to them before thinking of relocating”. The green patch of land is possibly a part of the marshy land that was filled up with untreated garbage. Some more residential complexes are in the offing. The traffic is terrible.

Finally, the water that you see behind the mall and the buildings is not a river. At least that’s what people say. It could be a nallah although it resembles a creek. It still stinks, especially in the monsoons when it is filled with water. It is perhaps the most distinctive reminder of the murky politics of development.

More reading: TOI

The Mall (forward) and the 'Creek'

Progress reconsidered

Ain’t I Glad?

“I feel like I have come to a jaggery market. My own stature has become like that of a common fly that tastes sweetness from one pack to another.”

Gulzar said that he was overwhelmed by the amount of praise he received from the different artists. I was at a private function where the eminent writer-filmmaker was honoured for winning the Oscar for “Jai Ho” from Slumdog Millionaire.

Later, to a response encapsulated by claps and whistles, he recited some of his nazms (poems set in free verse) and stories.

It wasn’t difficult to spot Gulzar seated on the makeshift mattresses with singer Bhupinder and writer Javed Siddiqi at actor Rajender Gupta’s spatial home. He was clad in his trademark white kurta-pyjama and his regular smile.

Javed said in his tribute that it was difficult to know Gulzar; he is like a fortress and you don’t know from where to attack him. Singer Bhupinder, despite his old age, sang some songs penned by Gulzar that have regaled listeners of different generations.

Singer Seema Sehgal sang a ghazal and a nazm for the poet while singer Shekhar Sen and actor Kishor Kadam presented some songs of Gulzar.

The song “Jai Ho” that brought honours to the poet remained, however, the most ignored aspect of the evening.

Most of the audience bared the rising humidity and stayed for the over-five-hour program. And when writer Atul Tiwari announced that it would take at least a week to discover the talents of Gulzar, the audiences broke into a final applause.

Over The Top

Singer-actor Shekhar Sen (seated) and actor Kishor Kadam (standing)

Singer Bhupinder

Hilarity

Owing to the female mind’s impulse to test eye shadow and blush (cosmetic) on my face when I was in a hurry, I walked out of my home forgetting to wipe out the colourful powders from my face.

Few men looked at me. It’s not that I was looking funny; men, as is their nature, will look at anything that reminds them of women.

Many times, their inquisitiveness about your well-being and work-life is actually a ploy to know about the women in your life.

When men ask one another “so what do you do?” they mean to ask how many women you work with and if they are desirable.

An example:

“I am a journalist”
“Oh”, the lower lip protrudes and the head nods in acknowledgement.
“Cool job, lots of moving around”
(And meeting different types of women)

Some of them want minute details of your association with the opposite sex.

“So what do you cover?”
“Cover?”

“I mean, which department are you in?”

When you say:

“I am a sub-editor, desk job”
“Cool”
(Making out in office)

Or

“I write about fashion”
“Cool”
(Must be meeting ‘hot’ models)

Or

“I write on social issues”
“Cool”
(Are there some sweaty and frustrated social activists?)

Some time in the future, conversations would be to-the-point:

“So what do you do?”

“I am a journalist who meets sweaty and frustrated social activists”
“Cool”

What if you are a doctor or an aspiring doctor?

“Wow, a doctor? Whom do you dig?”
“Dig?”
“I mean what do you check?”
“I check urinary tract infections in children”
“Cool”
(Gynecologists must be having so much fun)
“Some times I have to force urine out of them”
“Superb”
(But do gynecologists get bored after some time?)

“This way I have befriended many children”
“I understand”
(Breast cancer checkers must be having great knowledge)

Some time later,

“Do you stay at home or in a hostel?”
“I stay in the dorm; it is technically a hostel”
“Wow, must be having so much fun.”
“Oh yes, it is easy to go back to the lab if you have forgotten to dissect the frog of the day”

“Sure. And so what do you do in the hostel?”
“We chat a lot. Sleep late and you know… the regular.”
“Wow”

Some moments later, he attempts to understand what you ‘really’ do in the hostel.

“You must be meeting people of diverse cultures in the hostel.”
“Yes”
“Both men and women”
“Yes”

“But I believe that interaction with women must be less because the distance between the hostels is very long?”
“Not at all; they are present on every alternative floor of the hostel”

“Ok. I really appreciate your checking urinary tract infection in children”
He pats your back and disappears. Perhaps he will join the medical stream and somebody will ask him:

“So what do you do in life?”
“I am a doctor who meets diverse women on alternative floors in the hostel”

Selected Stories from Outside YI

Empty Spaces
Technical Difficulties
Addicted to Bond
Playing God   

It is absolutely fine if you do not vote in the coming elections. Asking you to vote compulsorily is like enforcing a caste system.

Consider the Jaago Re ad on television in which a ‘young’ man and his friend offer tea to people who have not cast their vote. You are sleeping-he tells them. When they retort that they are awake, the man says that if on Election Day people are not voting then they are obviously sleeping. The embarrassed/awakened people then accept the cup of tea as the two young men walk confidently amidst the crowd.

Compulsory voting is subterfuge. It is a marketing gimmick. It is setting a low benchmark for people; so that people feel glad by just voting. Never mind that most people won’t know whom to vote for. Does the Prime Minister of this country appear on television and announce in clear terms his plans for education to girls from the Doda tribe? People are not wise about any candidate and yet asked to vote or to hang their head in shame.

How the voting caste system works: people who have voted can identify and then blame the people who have not voted during elections. This is the burden of responsibility; it is telling the non-voters that the country gets lazy politicians because of their non-decision; it is feeling happy to have done your responsible bit for the country. Should anybody question your patriotism you can announce that you voted like a responsible Indian. 
It is finding the goats who did not vote for a butcher.

Why should anybody be compelled to vote? The willingness to vote should be personal willingness. People should be self-inspired to vote for a particular candidate. In India, many people don’t know much about the candidate and they know little about their leadership skills. So why should they spend their resources on the politician?

To know a country is to identify its problems. When India was attacked by the British, the kings and the princes passed the buck on one another. The caste system got rigid. To be like the British, the Brahmins relegated the shudras to lowliness. None had the courage to get together and take the outsiders head on. Similarly, unless the country is attacked by terrorists, people don’t get together or even write about urgent issues. Never mind that hundreds are killed in Mumbai Local Trains (deserves the first letter capital status) every month. Nobody is going to take the politicians to task. That, is tough. Very tough. It is easier to blame the people. “You voted” and “You never voted” and “your kind of people voted for…” Create rifts. So that today residents of Andheri fight with residents of Virar for seat sharing at 9 A.M every morning and every day of the year. They will not get together and tell the government to look beyond allotting land to Mr. Nano. Similarly, through advertisements like the Jaago Re and now Shut Up and Vote ad, divisions are being created between the people. Shut Up and Vote. Unless you do that, you have no role in questioning the government. This is easy. Easier than telling the government to Shut Up and Govern. So that people vote in the next elections.

These advertisements, in addition, will show non-voters in a negative light. They will also be non-relevant to the people in rural areas who are anyway eager to vote and believe that they have some political options. Over 50% people voted in Kashmir (State Elections) without any prodding. They travelled on cold streets and cast their votes without bothering about their morning kavah. Just because they wanted to vote. They felt that they have some options. The will to vote was self-will.

We are now 60-plus years post independence. People have realised that they have been voting because they were lied to about policies. These people are not the internet surfing populace. They are villagers and those belonging to road-less rural India. They vote not for any concern for the nation but concern for their self. It was expected and hoped by Mr. Nehru that with impetus to education, people in India’s villages would adopt an all-India view of politics. Unfortunately, till this day, people are voting because of blankets and chappals and promised electricity and free rice.

So what has always happened is happening now. For the last 60 years, Indians have had no real knowledge and education about elections. People are parochial and divided over basic issues like water (example).

And people in cities are under the impression that they are aware of the needs of the nation. “I want a young politician. They should be educated and computer savvy….” 

—-You want nothing. You want what you are told to want.
A precedent: remember the last elections. ‘Young politicians’ was the keyword. The Pilots and the Gandhis. This was the mantra fed to voters. So that five more years pass by without many questions asked. Vote so that young people come into politics. If you don’t vote for them, then you have no right to complain that the country is not led by bright politicians. Elections over. Good night and good luck.

People must wake up to marketing inventions and determine whether voting is being encouraged or tea is being sold; if campaigns for voting are opportunities for brand selling.

It is nobody’s duty to vote. If at all there is any iota of responsibility, it is to vote correctly. Correctly. Let the politicians come to the people and tell them to regain trust in the electoral process. Le them reach out to the villagers and promise them no more lies but a better life. And people should vote only when they feel convinced. When they feel like entering the polling station despite the heat and ill-health. And not because of any obligation.

For a few moments every week, I allow myself the luxury of slipping into my make-believe world where you and I can pretend that the rest of the world ceases to exist, where I can pretend you are only mine. It might have just been a candid conversation for you when you told me how exactly you felt about me. But it tossed me onto a whole new plane of thought and imagination. Yes, it broke the illusion of platonic love with the opposite sex. Yes, it took away from the innocence of our friendship. And yet, it made me feel terribly good about myself. It felt good to know that I was loved and that I was worthy of being loved. It restored my almost depleted self-confidence levels and the ever-so fragile sense of the self. The constant attention from you and the memory of your words gave me a new-found strength to move forward.

But this euphoria is also accompanied with a sense of regret. Had I totally lost my chance of finding true love while I was dreaming of it with someone else? Today neither of us is terribly unhappy with our lives.  We both made our choices and shouldn’t have much reason to complain. But I still find myself getting angry, with a hint of sadness. I do not who I am angry at more – myself for being blind, selfish and inconsiderate or you for being honest with me. I saw a Mr. Perfect in you long before you told me what you felt. But in my mind, you were always unavailable. I would have walked away from a hurtful relationship and thrown myself at you with more alacrity than you think. But the fear of being branded restrained me.

I tell myself to be the bigger person and let go. The consciousness of your love should be adequate to keep me afloat. I have nothing against your partner – no streaks of jealousy, malice or bitterness. Yet, the overpowering sense of regret, and the subsequent ever-consuming feeling of guilt over my love for a married man, renders me numb negating every other feeling I could possibly ever experience or perceive.

“Snapshot of memories” or simply an awry screenplay? Nimesh Advani and Ipsita Bandyopadhyay think differently about the movie ‘Delhi-6‘.

“…there are so many characters and so many sub plots that I was confused where to look next…”

Nimesh Advani

Rating: ★☆☆☆ 

It’s very irritating when during a movie there is constant chattering from horny middle aged couples but its effect is reduced when the movie is Delhi-6. With an impressive and promising cast and direction by the popular Rakeysh OmPrakash Mehra, expectations are bound to be high. But after barely 20 minutes your desire to see some meaningful cinema starts fading away.

Abhishek Bacchan’s ‘Roshan’ comes to India with Daadi (grandmother) because she wants to die in her Mitti…sob sob. But Roshan gets extra baggage along with him in his fake American accent that should have been left behind (Watch out for him saying “Look Golden Deeerrrrr”). In Delhi he meets his typical family full of bhabhis, buas, and bachha party and two warring brothers (the reason for their quarrel is yet unknown…Still Researching). This movie is a journey of how Roshan finds his roots in Delhi and decides to settle here with the various caste issues and religious problems over a lot of snooker games with Rishi Kapoor. During his stay he meets Bittu (Sonam Kapoor) who is the female lead of the film but is hardly seen and, by the way, she also wants to become the next Indian Idol.

A lot of people want to do a lot of things in the movie; there are so many characters and so many sub plots that I was confused where to look next and in this Bhel-puri, as we may call it, the main issue of the KAALA BANDAR (Black monkey) is lost. There are many characters like the horny photographer, the roadside mithaiwala and the garbage woman but the director does not do justice to any of them. 

Not many people would be able to connect the ‘Ram Leela’ to the story of the film (whatever little there is). The screenplay of this film is disappointing and the sloppy editing does not help the cause either. For instance, Abhishek is seen spending more time with Rishi Kapoor than with his love Sonam  Kapoor and the whole romantic song ‘Rehna Tu’ is picturised on Abhishek and Rishi Kapoor during one of their snooker sessions. Amitabh Bacchan’s cameo in the end could have been avoided as it added little to the proceedings.

The only saving grace of the movie is the music by Oscar winner AR Rehman that is wasted on the film. The song ‘Masakali’ has become a chartbuster, not to forget ‘Genda Phool’ and many others but there are too many songs in the pre-interval period.

There are a few moments in the first half of the film that will keep the audience awake like the rumour regarding Kaala Bandar and people’s reaction on TV and the scene where the cow is giving birth in the middle of the road. Binod Pradhan’s cinematography is pleasant in the first half while we are discovering Delhi but soon the lack of a proper screenplay takes over the few positives.

All in all one starts finding the conversations of the horny middle aged couples more interesting than the movie!

————————–

 ”Do we remember dreams/childhood memories clearly? But some events, images, sights, sounds, smells stand out.”

Ipsita Bandyopadhyay

Rating: ★★★☆ 

As in all forms of art, I repeat an oft-repeated argument: that there has to be freedom of form. I feel the audiences and the media in this country like only plot-based films and not thought based films. A repeated grouse against Delhi-6 (D6) is that it has no cohesive plot.

Is that even required? It’s a cliché perhaps derived from the fact that we love stories…and we are used to a clear message being derived out of a story. Just like my Math teacher in Class II, instead of clarifying the concept of addition taught me to recognize an addition problem in the exam by the presence of the word ‘altogether’. The result: a few years later, I actually forgot the difference between addition and subtraction till I was re-taught some basics.

The film is clearly in the form of vignettes- somewhat like a snapshot of memories from the writer’s past/ his experiences. Do we remember dreams/childhood memories clearly? But some events, images, sights, sounds, smells stand out. In this respect, providing context does nothing to add to the case of the film. D6 is a chapter in the life of Roshan Mehra. To my mind it didn’t matter whether he was a computer engineer or a college student before he came to India. He carried with him a sense of calm, composure and an unhurried manner. So why can’t we just assume that he was on a vacation? The soul of the film is something different- its message lies elsewhere.

I admire the director Raykesh OmPrakash Mehra’s (ROM) ability to translate feelings to visuals. If you watch his films carefully, you’ll feel connected to what he’s trying to depict. As though his thoughts have been translated by a secret code onto the screen and at that point, there’s a strong connect between the viewer and the writer. Pardon me a poor metaphor but somewhat like tuning fork and vibrating string in resonance during Henle’s experiment. I wish I had an example I could quote from the film to demonstrate this point. But I am sorry, it’s a feeling, very strong and resonating at the moment it hits you, but vanishes soon. This adds texture to a film, a certain je ne sais quoi (I know not what) very few works of art achieve- something you can read between the lines.

Many people I spoke to including the film reviewer of India’s leading news channel felt the Hindu-Muslim jhagda in the film was too ‘over-the-top’. This puts me off. Here’s a guy who’s trying to show us a complex problem in its infancy, where it begins, in a simple manner that one should understand. But the audience seems to demand complexity. Throughout the communal tension, the audience is prompted to smile at the absurdity of it all. That’s precisely the point Mehra tries to make. How politics can drive neighbours to madness within a community where religious syncretism actually is such a integral part of life that intolerance seems forced; it obviously is by the media, politicians etc.

In any case, if the film tried to show this in any more serious a manner it would have been banned/ embroiled in controversy.

I must submit that the expectations from ROM post the director’s Rang De Basanti (RDB) are more than sky-high. D6 is nowhere close. The music is brilliant but terribly placed. Very valid points. You came out of RDB feeling something very deep within. In my opinion, a large portion of that credit went to the superb acting by the cast and strong characterization which is lacked sorely here. Abhishek and lead actress Sonam hugely disappoint in D6. That does take away from the soul of the film. But not from the thought Rakeysh has presented. 

Also much criticized is the ‘filmy’ ending. There is a strong argument for showing reality in cinema. Which is that, in real life, Abhishek would have died perhaps. But is there any argument for not showing hope? That violence between communities living together may end when neighbours realize their follies and look into the mirror so to speak. It’s a simplistic but valid solution to show.

An interview somewhere said that the director would have like another month to complete the film. He should have been given that.

This is not only for those who have seen the movie Dev. D.
This is not a review.

Yes, Dev D is a very good movie. I wonder why it is being appreciated by many people; seems odd when other light-weight feather-type films make so much money in India. But as the popular saying goes in Hindi.

“time time ki baat hai pyaare”
(it’s all a play of time)

In time, we will know more about good films that were ignored by movie lovers.

Dev. D fans are talking about the movie breaking taboos and bringing a ‘new wave’ in Hindi cinema. Well, there have been movies that have done that before with respect to women liberation. I guess most fans have not been tuned to films of Amol Palekar. Of course, he is a low budget, art film-walla. So many people won’t go to theatres to see his movies. But they will recognise the liberated woman when they see her on screen, embellished with music and songs. Women liberation is not to be searched. It is to be waited for and then when given, it is to be applauded. Till the next time.

I remember watching Palekar’s ‘Thodasa Roomani Ho Jaayen’, which I recently learnt (through imdb) is an adaptation of ‘The Rainmaker’. Read what the film is about.

“Set in the background of a small town in India, against the harsh weather conditions and lack of rain, the story revolves around a girl who is unconventional in her ways and appearance, in-feminine in the conventional sense of the word, and therefore subjugated to much negative public opinions and advices on what she should be…”
[source]

“Stranger comes inside and he starts alluring all the people with his unusual charming but mysterious talks. Only Father and younger son take interest in his talks. Woman and her elder brother dislike stranger and they oppose everything he says…”

“Barishkar then address woman and convinces her to have faith in her beautiful existence. He says every woman is beautiful in her own way. You just have to keep faith in your beauty. He pushes her to repeat that she is beautiful with full conviction. First time she feels that she still has some self respect and self confidence and a hope to live a good life.”
[source]

Now I didn’t have so much brain then to recognise what women liberation is and how women are represented in Indian cinema. But now when I read these lines, I wonder if good ‘fair to women’ cinema has been brushed aside because it is (yawn) artistic.
As if being artistic is not what we all want in life.

But why will people want to see such a film?
First of all, the film is set in a “small town in India, against the harsh weather conditions and lack of rain”. Serious yawn.

Small town, harsh weather and lack of rain are not exactly crowd pulling elements. Right?
Already, you are assured that this movie does not promise sex; a major no-no for our post-modern, extra-sensible artistic audience.

So you might say that there are people who would have seen this movie and recognised its merits. Sure. Check out imdb [here]. 48 votes in 18-19 years.

Sure. I will have to see this movie again to be assured of its merits and to write more on it. But I trust the sensibilities of people who have seen it and they swear that when I read the lines: “Barishkar then address woman and convinces her to have faith in her beautiful existence. He says every woman is beautiful in her own way”, I am right in feeling that this movie is evocative and modern for its times.

I wonder if this movie also says that women should work and not sit at home. But not every movie is supposed to contain all women related themes. At a time when movie-making in Hindi cinema was about sexy and big-busted heroines making stupid sacrifices, this movie must have been a challenge to the producer and Amol Palekar.

By the way, Amol is the same man who directed ‘Paheli’, where a woman is happy to leave her husband and fall in love with a ghost because, well, he fulfils her sexual and emotional requirements.

And also read in the imdb chart about Daayra and Anaahat. This man has been making low-budget but high-class movies since quite some time.

I hope we continue producing challenging movies like Dev. D and also exploit the charms of low-budget movies.

Kartikey Sehgal

Women’s interest in cricket is a sudden development, propelled mostly by the advertisements projecting cricketers as demigods. In the year 2003, model and actress Mandira Bedi became popular for hosting a cricket-discussion program during the World Cup cricket matches.

Her immense popularity had little to do with her knowledge about cricket and more with the plunging neckline of her saris and the unavoidable amount of cleavage on exhibit.

Passionate about cricket? Mandira Bedi has succeeded in adding sexual interest to the sport. And only that.

Today, women are seen cheering for their favourite players on television and attending cricket-celebration parties at pubs and restaurants where they join the men in post-cricket drunken revelry. And these women don’t watch women’s cricket.

They do not know about the captain of the Indian women cricket team and they don’t cheer for them at pubs and discos. Advertisers spend lesser money on women’s cricket because most women don’t bother to attend the matches and there has never been a strong demand for women cricket.

Fact: Most women don’t know the sport. And their cheering and fan-following has more sexual tones than any proof of their love for the sport. This is perfectly healthy. However, it is a problem if these women start commenting on cricket and assume the role of critics. They are fooling their self and adding to their misery. They may feel left out during cricketing discussions because their knowledge is immature.

Women are watching cricket because men watch it a lot. And watching cricket brings attention to women. It is enough for most women to know the names of the players and which player is ‘hot property’. Cricketers parade on ramp shows and women accompany them or foreign models dance around them. These women don’t know the meaning of a reverse-sweep. They don’t know if the batsman’s strength lies in his front-foot strokes or his back foot-drives. They don’t even know the meanings of drives and hooks. They will parade around the cricketer because he makes lots of money and is seen on television. And standing next to a cricketer would give the models lots of attention. These advertisements tell the women sitting at home that cricketers are successful people because they play cricket; never mind their stature in the sport, their technique or their skills. 

Advertisers are selling cricket and women are being naïve in accepting the advertisement.

Not celebrated by Indian women: Jhulan Goswami is recognised as the fastest bowler in women's cricket. She was recently appointed as the captain of the Indian team.

Now say the advertisers decide that women ought to be educated about the sport to sustain their interest. They hire models (Ruby Bhatia, Mandira Bedi) to talk about cricket on television. These models are not expected to know much about the sport. They have been hired so that they can make the men talk about the sport. Also note that actual women-cricketers are not asked to do this job, ostensibly because they do not project sexiness.

Once again, there would be women who wouldn’t watch the cricket chat programs to learn about the sport but would wait for something ‘exciting’ to happen in the sport. This is healthy; the women know what they want from the sport and they are not feigning any extra interest in the sport. But there would be women who would hear opinions about the sport from the models and the experts who talk on television.

Television offers mostly opinions and not much wisdom about the sport. The experts contradict themselves and the viewer does not know about the back-foot punch that is discussed on the shows. As such, to know the sport, actual practice and demonstration along with a regular and a keen interest in the sport seem imperative. I have met women who don’t have much idea about the sport except from what they hear and read from media.

A woman told me that she loved M.S. Dhoni because he looks good and also because he played well. However, she was unable to tell me what she liked about Dhoni’s batting. She did not know what the term ‘average’ meant in cricket. She wrongly associated it with the average age of the players. [Average: Number of runs scored per match]

Another girl said that Sachin Tendulkar has never really won matches for India. She heard it on some television news channel. She didn’t know how matches are to be won. “You play well and you win matches for India.” I asked her if Sachin’s position as a middle order batsman would help him finish matches and raise his personal scoring average. She was clueless. The women mentioned are educated and have opinions on several women-related issues. Neither of them had seen Ricky Ponting bat but knew that he is good player based on newspapers and television channels.

A telling sign of their understanding of the sport is their judgement of Rahul Dravid. The middle-order batsman is considered a role-model for players who wish to perfect their batting technique. Many men, fed on the modern wham-bam cricket, don’t like him because he doesn’t play ‘fast’, i.e. score his runs quickly. Women don’t like him because they have heard that men are losing interest in him. However, I did come across some women who like Rahul. He is a “sincere character” and “a gem of a person”. He is “quiet and non-aggressive” and a “thorough gentleman”. These women were not able to explain what they liked about his batting. They saw in him a man they may like to know; or a man who could be short-listed as “a husband material”.

Apart from troubling the cricketing sensibilities of men (and women), such women also reveal their unsurety; probably their need to hide their enchantment with sportsmen and to appear wise about the sport.

Despite the technological and informative era, women are misled by advertisements and useless shows on cricket that have permeated television and are, in fact  surrogates of advertising.

Less advertising money means less women fans for the Indian Hockey Team

It would be fair to say that such human behaviour applies to many other sporting and non-sporting fields. But note that the Indian hockey team has fitter and stronger players than the Indian cricket team and very few women see these men as pin-ups. Advertising (including surrogate) impedes the pure exposition of sexuality, and this exposition is healthy and essential for human beings. Women’s preferences are being dictated by advertisement in every sphere, including cricket.

My references to women are not restricted to any collective based on class or aptitude. Most women and men watching and adoring cricket is an extension of their sexual nature. It is not a judgement or a statement on the gender. Sexual nature is manifested in most of our decisions. It includes the decision to read this story on this website. 

Part One ends

[Rated 'Mature'. If you are below the age 16, then go here first] 

Verna was a virgin. She decided to make love.

She visited her uncle whose dress was of the same maroon colour as his drink and who wore a jacket on all occasions, except perhaps at night about which Verna knew nothing.

Verna’s uncle asked her to wait till marriage for “while there is nothing wrong in a girl of your age to make love, the wait is always sweeter’.

Then she saw some red marks around her aunt’s fair and milky wrists as her uncle arose to yell at the television and shake it so that it presented better quality of picture. At this, her village educated but milk-white aunt–a favourite of many North Indian men weaned to the fairness culture–pulled her knees closer to her chest so that she could keep her head on them.

Later at night, the aunt told Verna that fights between married couples are regular human affairs but her uncle is generally a pure man and his ‘manhood’ responded to the maximum gravitational pull before marriage and till the wedding night.

Verna grew disillusioned. Sex was wrong but violence was not. She read her grammar book and rephrased the sentence; violence was better than sex. Then she talked to her teacher whom she had always avoided because she was known to be a sl** but who never really lost her temper or her teaching skills. Her teacher disrobed to prove to Verna that her body was flawless and that all the red bite marks were in fact, red bite marks.

After Verna regained control over her breath, the sultry teacher gave her some books to read and Verna realised that virginity was an oppression forced upon women. And that a society without sex was more likely to behead and murder than a society that revelled in sexual pleasures.

Verna walked along the college corridor and remembered the Principal who often talked about sin and punishment. “God loves you… but dare you defy him…”

Now in a room, Verna was naked waist down as she approached the bed. Her man, a veteran of several sports, lay on the bed waiting for his prize to come to him. He was a good boy who touched the feet of all elders in his family and took care of all youngsters. And made sure that his sister was not seen talking to any boy for more than a few minutes for “the world is a bad place and you can not be sure of today’s boys.”

Should Verna just sit on the boy and end her quenching desire of the type found in romantic novels?  

She advertised for her virginity using a pseudonym. The boy whose pride was hurt when Verna wore her shorts and exited his room also bid for V-na. He bid only a few dollars but in an email pledged immense satisfaction of the footballer-cheerleader type. Verna’s uncle didn’t bid but sent amorous mails to her and said that when she was done playing with her toys she would need comfort and affection whose reference she must have found in romantic novels.

Sex and violence are forced fodders for the respected and widely-circulated newspapers who claim to represent public opinion. V-na was widely condemned for being a bad girl who was a sl** and who was bringing a bad name to womanhood and all that is traditionally ascribed to women. Her attackers included a house-wife who gave up painting for marriage but now wanted more respect for home-makers.

Verna asked her aunt about her opinion on the subject and she promptly wrote in slow and laborious letters that “V-na was amoral… she was going in the wrong direction…”
Then the aunt felt very happy to have expressed herself and to have used her education-whatever little she had-for a noble purpose. And then she excused herself to change into a long-sleeved dress that covered her fair and milky wrists.  

“Sin,” said the Principal, politely.

Verna wondered what was wrong in taking money for losing her virginity. She was just charging money for what men consider a very prized commodity. And it was definitely better than violence.

Later, Verna saw on television, images of women being thrashed in a metropolitan city in India. She took off her skirt and lay naked on the bed. She had nice and smooth thighs, she felt. And her teacher agreed.

During a rendezvous at a restaurant the duo discussed if it is not fair to seek happiness every day in life. Or if sex makes men and women happy, and happy men and women don’t need religion to fill in for sex. And how to spot a happy man.

Later, Verna was roaming an empty neighbourhood and she found a boy, younger to her, who made no pretence of staring at her bosom and legs. Verna asked him if he wanted to make love to her. The boy agreed and asked Verna if this would cause anguish to her.  

It’s not known if Verna found this boy to be honest or if she was simply overawed by her loneliness in the neighbourhood-a fantasy popular among women-or if she was simply persuaded by the condoms the boy carried in his wallet.

It was her decision, unfettered by morality, or by the common excuse of guilt and temptation.

You may like to read these…
Why I’m Selling My Virginity
Scarlet Keeling Raped
Scarlet Keeling: Victim many times over
Mangalore Pub Attack 

[Milton Friedman in his book 'There's No Such Thing As a Free Lunch' says that ". . . every bit of pork, every subsidy, every inflation, every politically-imposed inefficiency, is paid for, and paid for in full -- by somebody."]

The traffic cop stops a citizen and complains that his vehicle is emitting dangerous amount of pollutants. The driver shows the sticker to the cop and exits from the situation. That sticker was purchased for 100 Rs from a government official who checks vehicle maintenance. The true cost of the sticker is 1000 Rs. By bribing the government official, the driver saved 900 Rs with which he made his children happy.
This is free lunch for the driver.

However, there is no such thing as a free lunch.

Six months after this escapade, the driver is anxious at the city airport. The dense fog has delayed his flight by six hours and he would miss his niece’s sangeet ceremony. He had been planning to attend this event for the last six months. After escaping the traffic cop the driver had reached home and read the invitation card announcing his niece’s wedding.
There is no such thing as a free lunch.

His children now suffer from wheezing cough and the sum total of the cost of the medicines is Rs. 900.

In relation to acts of terror

Similarly, the many car drivers who refuse to abide by traffic laws and threaten traffic cops with political connections should not complain when gunmen from another territory break into the country through the sea-route. The drivers are a part of the culture that promotes terrorism. Terrorism is culmination of the law breaking acts in the country. The drivers (the nation) are paying for their various free lunches.

Misdirected anger

A businessman got away with breaking the traffic rules. Another businessman accepted his driving errors and paid the fine or got away with an apology. But his son died in the attack conducted by the gunmen who entered the country through the sea-route.

The honest businessman is paying for the corrupt businessman’s mistakes.

But he will not accept that his son died because of the faults of other people. The other people – the ones who break traffic laws and get free lunch – are his clients and any anger towards them would affect his business. So he shouts and curses the government. He claims that it is their responsibility to ensure that people don’t break laws. He would also feel bitter towards young people who spend time at coffee shops and beaches. He would tell his wife that they are spoiling their youth and taking the country to misery.

In an effort to sublimate his anger and pain, the businessman would turn to religion and accept that his son died because God wanted him to die.

In effect, he would not deal directly with people who are responsible for his son’s death; the ‘free-lunch’ people.

No Reprieve 

On the other hand, the dishonest businessman would restrict his children from travelling in trains and buses. He would spend more money on fuel and vehicle. He would be seen as the loving father who is concerned for his family’s welfare. 

Of course, he is the person who caused their downfall. He is responsible for his family’s fear of terror attacks. He thought he was smart when he broke simple laws, but he is responsible for the gunmen coming by sea to his country and making his children fearful. His son may not have got murdered, but he has affected his family’s freedom.
There is no such thing as a free lunch.