I wonder if cricket is not going to be a major contributing factor in the increased divorce rate of India surpassing all other reasons, namely:
Poor communication
Financial problems
A lack of commitment to the marriage
A dramatic change in priorities
Infidelity
Or at least a few break-ups among the committed ones. Studies show that premarital (or early marital) variables can predict which couples will do well and which will not with accuracies of 80% up to 94%
(e.g., Clements, Stanley, & Markman, 1997; Fowers, Montel, & Olson,1996; Gottman, 1994; Karney & Bradbury, 1995; Kelly & Conley, 1987; and Rogge & Bradbury, in press).
Oh don't worry. This not my Anthropology thesis. Let me put things more simply. Take any random couple from urban India.
HER
He knows I am not well and he did not even care to call and ask how I am doing.
I called up at his office, his phone was busy.
His status icon shows he's online- but he has not even messaged me.
I know he is going back now home now and he still hasn't called me yet.
He does not care what I feel about him.
He makes no effort to fulfill my expectations.
He doesn't love me.
I have wasted three years of my life.
I can't live with such a monster.
HIM
Today the deciding match of Bangladesh VS Sri Lanka will influence the position of India a lot in the World Cup and my boss is not even letting me go home early. Shit! I can't even think straight.
Copyright
You will copy with risks to penalties and criminal procedures.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Born Free
..and why it has remained my favorite for years now.
The movie is based on the best selling book penned down by Joy Adamson, about her self, her game warden husband, George Adamson and an orphaned lioness cub, Elsa in Kenya.
When George has to shoot a man eating lion and its mate, he discovers that they had three lioness cubs which he brings back to his wife. They raise the cubs until they are big enough to be shipped to a zoo. But the smallest of the litter finds a mother in Joy who feeds her the best bits because she can not fight to have a fair share of her meal.
On Joy's insistence, George let Elsa- Joy's favorite- live with them until the mating calls of a lion tells her there is a life beyond what she is living with Joy and George.
Other perils in the form of game -hunters surface when one of them mistakes Elsa resting on a tree as a wild lioness and is about to shoot her but is stopped from doing so by someone who recognizes her collar.
Joy's aversion to sending Elsa away to a zoo confronts them with a new challenge: to train a lioness to survive in the wild who has been tamed to become a house-cat and who considers hunting only as a sport. A hilarious episode where she is chased away by a wild boar evinces the fact that she is yet to learn the rules of the jungle.
Elsa is left behind on several occasions to be allowed to adjust to her natural habitat but each time she returns injured. Eventually the patience pays and Elsa realizes what is expected of her and learns to hunt.
Born free is an extraordinary adventure of a lioness born in the wild and how she learns to be the "pride' of her race.
The book was targeted for pre-teen readers and I still remember vaguely the first time I had watched the movie as a kid.
But it has been a joyful experience to live over and over again and is probably one of the best of my home video collection.
Trivia :
#Elsa's grave is located in Meru National Park, Kenya.
#The making of the film was a life-changing experience for actors Virginia McKenna and her husband Bill Travers who became animal rights activists and were instrumental in creating the Born Free Foundation.
# They are survived by their son Will Travers and you can visit his blog here
The movie is based on the best selling book penned down by Joy Adamson, about her self, her game warden husband, George Adamson and an orphaned lioness cub, Elsa in Kenya.
When George has to shoot a man eating lion and its mate, he discovers that they had three lioness cubs which he brings back to his wife. They raise the cubs until they are big enough to be shipped to a zoo. But the smallest of the litter finds a mother in Joy who feeds her the best bits because she can not fight to have a fair share of her meal.
On Joy's insistence, George let Elsa- Joy's favorite- live with them until the mating calls of a lion tells her there is a life beyond what she is living with Joy and George.
Other perils in the form of game -hunters surface when one of them mistakes Elsa resting on a tree as a wild lioness and is about to shoot her but is stopped from doing so by someone who recognizes her collar.
Joy's aversion to sending Elsa away to a zoo confronts them with a new challenge: to train a lioness to survive in the wild who has been tamed to become a house-cat and who considers hunting only as a sport. A hilarious episode where she is chased away by a wild boar evinces the fact that she is yet to learn the rules of the jungle.
Elsa is left behind on several occasions to be allowed to adjust to her natural habitat but each time she returns injured. Eventually the patience pays and Elsa realizes what is expected of her and learns to hunt.
Born free is an extraordinary adventure of a lioness born in the wild and how she learns to be the "pride' of her race.
The book was targeted for pre-teen readers and I still remember vaguely the first time I had watched the movie as a kid.
But it has been a joyful experience to live over and over again and is probably one of the best of my home video collection.
Trivia :
#Elsa's grave is located in Meru National Park, Kenya.
#The making of the film was a life-changing experience for actors Virginia McKenna and her husband Bill Travers who became animal rights activists and were instrumental in creating the Born Free Foundation.
# They are survived by their son Will Travers and you can visit his blog here
Monday, March 05, 2007
Holi khele Digambar...
Digambar refers to Lord Shiva, and literally means "space clad" or "one who wears the directions" ,id est, without clothes. (Pitambar on the other hand means one who wears yellow(pit or peet) clothes (ambar), and refers to Lord Krishna.)
I remember watching the song (Holi khele Digambar...) on TV which was being telecast live from Varanasi (also known as Banaras or Kashi), the nerve centre of Hindutwa in North India.
I was listening to the entrancing song describing how Lord Shiva plays Holi with his companions and followers- the bhoots and pisachs when suddenly I found everyone ( Uncle, Aunty, Dida, Didi) looking at me. I realized I was drowsing while sitting on the sofa!
Lesson learnt: Never underestimate the power of bhaang
It is a drink or thandai made from milk, sugar, dry fruits like badaam (almonds), kaaju (cashew nuts), kismish (raisins), and spices like peppercorn and elaichi (cardamom), ( sometimes fresh/dried rose petals are added too :the Gulkand variety) The powdered buds and leaves of Cannabis gives the drink an intoxicating (in my case somniferous and laughter-inducing) effects. It all depends on the concentration.
A word of caution to the naive and curious like me: Don't have more than a glass even if it is insanely delicious.
Someone had opined- "Holi is a festival for hooligans." I don't recollect resorting to Hooliganism while playing Holi except once. It was in 2005- and I was playing it with my Jija ji ( Cousin sister's husband: I call him Dadai) and we played so long that I ran out of colors. I decided to take out eggs from the fridge and I broke them on his head. He was cool about it but when I said I was going to work up some mud from a puddle, he gave up , raised his hands and said :"I surrender"
Last year, on Holi I was stranded at Dumdum airport and we were coming back to Delhi after Bro's visa interview at Kolkata. So it was colorless. I thought this year wouldn't be any different. Only if I knew....
I went out to my TM's (Deepika Ganguly) place with a colleague where she treated us to the special Holi gujiyas and then asked her husband to offer us "bhaang". An elderly gentleman volunteered to say -" Bitiya is mein bhaang hai"( "Daughter, this has bhaang in it").
I just nodded to show that I was well aware and gulped it down- one whole glass and my first time. Come on ! I was not going to let go of the opportunity. And anyways I was not driving :P
Then we went to Rahul Da and Emon di's place where we were invited for lunch. It always bothers me how to address them. She is related to me : she is my mamato bonner mamato bonner mastuto bonn (don't bother).
And I know Rahul da too coz they worked in the same office in my department before marriage. I can either address them as Dada-boudi (Elder brother and sister-in-law) or Didi-jamaibabu (Sister and brother-in-law). For some reason, I choose a midway and have continued calling them Emon di (short for Didi: elder sister) and Dada (elder bro).Chuck it. It's so confusing. It's the feelings that matters.
It was fun spending the day there. The icing on the cake was Rahul da's Dida ( maternal grandmom) who reminded me of my own thakuma (paternal grandmom) when she was touching my face to feel it and bless me when I gave her a pronaam. (bending to touch the feet of elders to greet and show reverence).
All in all. It was a great day. And we cheered to Lord Shiva by screaming "Jai Bholenath ki" before drinking 2 more glasses of bhaang again after playing on the roof at Rahulda and Emondi's house.
It was wonderful to watch the newly wedded couple chasing each other to put color.
Finally, we ended up playing Holi with water. Soaking wet, a cold breeze and the sun shining bright. It was a strange combination. Dida joined us too and it was great playing with her. I loved the way she was relentless in trying to color my teeth. I kept a closed mouth and the only thing that was recognizable about me later were my teeth (see pic below). The rest of me resembled one of the Bhootnath's (another name for Shiva) followers: those ghosts.
On the roof. Can't remember why I was laughing. I only recall I just could not stop. It seems I found an angle of humor to everything. And it was one of those weirdest smiles I ever had. Hardly a care in the world. (Magnify at your own risk. I'm not going to pay for the hospital charges if you have a heart-attack)
Don't remember looking more ashen and ghostly or feeling more awesome either. That was Holi for me .. maybe for a long, long time to come. And the first and the last time I had bhaang.
I remember watching the song (Holi khele Digambar...) on TV which was being telecast live from Varanasi (also known as Banaras or Kashi), the nerve centre of Hindutwa in North India.
I was listening to the entrancing song describing how Lord Shiva plays Holi with his companions and followers- the bhoots and pisachs when suddenly I found everyone ( Uncle, Aunty, Dida, Didi) looking at me. I realized I was drowsing while sitting on the sofa!
Lesson learnt: Never underestimate the power of bhaang
It is a drink or thandai made from milk, sugar, dry fruits like badaam (almonds), kaaju (cashew nuts), kismish (raisins), and spices like peppercorn and elaichi (cardamom), ( sometimes fresh/dried rose petals are added too :the Gulkand variety) The powdered buds and leaves of Cannabis gives the drink an intoxicating (in my case somniferous and laughter-inducing) effects. It all depends on the concentration.
A word of caution to the naive and curious like me: Don't have more than a glass even if it is insanely delicious.
Someone had opined- "Holi is a festival for hooligans." I don't recollect resorting to Hooliganism while playing Holi except once. It was in 2005- and I was playing it with my Jija ji ( Cousin sister's husband: I call him Dadai) and we played so long that I ran out of colors. I decided to take out eggs from the fridge and I broke them on his head. He was cool about it but when I said I was going to work up some mud from a puddle, he gave up , raised his hands and said :"I surrender"
Last year, on Holi I was stranded at Dumdum airport and we were coming back to Delhi after Bro's visa interview at Kolkata. So it was colorless. I thought this year wouldn't be any different. Only if I knew....
I went out to my TM's (Deepika Ganguly) place with a colleague where she treated us to the special Holi gujiyas and then asked her husband to offer us "bhaang". An elderly gentleman volunteered to say -" Bitiya is mein bhaang hai"( "Daughter, this has bhaang in it").
I just nodded to show that I was well aware and gulped it down- one whole glass and my first time. Come on ! I was not going to let go of the opportunity. And anyways I was not driving :P
Then we went to Rahul Da and Emon di's place where we were invited for lunch. It always bothers me how to address them. She is related to me : she is my mamato bonner mamato bonner mastuto bonn (don't bother).
And I know Rahul da too coz they worked in the same office in my department before marriage. I can either address them as Dada-boudi (Elder brother and sister-in-law) or Didi-jamaibabu (Sister and brother-in-law). For some reason, I choose a midway and have continued calling them Emon di (short for Didi: elder sister) and Dada (elder bro).Chuck it. It's so confusing. It's the feelings that matters.
It was fun spending the day there. The icing on the cake was Rahul da's Dida ( maternal grandmom) who reminded me of my own thakuma (paternal grandmom) when she was touching my face to feel it and bless me when I gave her a pronaam. (bending to touch the feet of elders to greet and show reverence).
All in all. It was a great day. And we cheered to Lord Shiva by screaming "Jai Bholenath ki" before drinking 2 more glasses of bhaang again after playing on the roof at Rahulda and Emondi's house.
It was wonderful to watch the newly wedded couple chasing each other to put color.
Finally, we ended up playing Holi with water. Soaking wet, a cold breeze and the sun shining bright. It was a strange combination. Dida joined us too and it was great playing with her. I loved the way she was relentless in trying to color my teeth. I kept a closed mouth and the only thing that was recognizable about me later were my teeth (see pic below). The rest of me resembled one of the Bhootnath's (another name for Shiva) followers: those ghosts.
On the roof. Can't remember why I was laughing. I only recall I just could not stop. It seems I found an angle of humor to everything. And it was one of those weirdest smiles I ever had. Hardly a care in the world. (Magnify at your own risk. I'm not going to pay for the hospital charges if you have a heart-attack)
Don't remember looking more ashen and ghostly or feeling more awesome either. That was Holi for me .. maybe for a long, long time to come. And the first and the last time I had bhaang.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Tripping over
I don’t know if it I have flat-feet, but I seemed to have a knack since childhood to trip over when I wear flats, while I can comfortably dance around with heels that are some storeys high.
I particularly remember an incident when someone broke the orange juice bottle we had packed for a class picnic ( in Standard VI) and it was all over the floor. We had Physical Training classes that day and we were in all white uniform and white PT (canvass) shoes with flat heels. I stepped unaware of the slippery liquid on the floor before the house keeping had come to clean up the mess. I tried to balance between two desks but gave up and fell horizontally backwards.
I was embarrassed. But someone smirked . And when I stood up I saw the orange pattern on my skirt and found it quite funny. I laughed so loudly that the others were taken aback and they joined in too. My reputation for beating up guys and ominous presence as the CR ( Nickname : Hitler) was forgotten.. And it felt good.
At another instance, I was getting down from a bus near college and since I was not really apt at traveling in a public transport bus, did not know that I had to keep walking even when I got down from a moving bus to keep the inertia of motion. I had forced myself to a sudden halt and the result was disastrous. I fell with my face down and I scrapped my knees very badly, my favorite jeans got torn at the knees , the bus came to a stop and the rest of the passengers stood up to see what happened. I said I was ok coz I was afraid the bus would topple now with its raised center of gravity.
I got back to campus and tied a few safety pins to hold the tear until I got a patchwork done on my jeans . The next day I saw a lot of juniors tearing their jeans and pinning safety pins in their jeans. It became a rave!
I tripped today when I was getting back from the bank. It was embarrassing to imagine a well poised girl suddenly lying prostrate on the ground. I had scrapped my knees and skinned my palms ..but it was worth it. It isn’t how you fall, but how you get up.
I particularly remember an incident when someone broke the orange juice bottle we had packed for a class picnic ( in Standard VI) and it was all over the floor. We had Physical Training classes that day and we were in all white uniform and white PT (canvass) shoes with flat heels. I stepped unaware of the slippery liquid on the floor before the house keeping had come to clean up the mess. I tried to balance between two desks but gave up and fell horizontally backwards.
I was embarrassed. But someone smirked . And when I stood up I saw the orange pattern on my skirt and found it quite funny. I laughed so loudly that the others were taken aback and they joined in too. My reputation for beating up guys and ominous presence as the CR ( Nickname : Hitler) was forgotten.. And it felt good.
At another instance, I was getting down from a bus near college and since I was not really apt at traveling in a public transport bus, did not know that I had to keep walking even when I got down from a moving bus to keep the inertia of motion. I had forced myself to a sudden halt and the result was disastrous. I fell with my face down and I scrapped my knees very badly, my favorite jeans got torn at the knees , the bus came to a stop and the rest of the passengers stood up to see what happened. I said I was ok coz I was afraid the bus would topple now with its raised center of gravity.
I got back to campus and tied a few safety pins to hold the tear until I got a patchwork done on my jeans . The next day I saw a lot of juniors tearing their jeans and pinning safety pins in their jeans. It became a rave!
I tripped today when I was getting back from the bank. It was embarrassing to imagine a well poised girl suddenly lying prostrate on the ground. I had scrapped my knees and skinned my palms ..but it was worth it. It isn’t how you fall, but how you get up.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Whistling in the Dark
As a kid I was afraid of being lonely in the dark. To comfort myself, I'd either sing aloud or whistle.
Was it the fear of the unknown, of being lonely without my sense of sight, or merely a survival instinct handed down by my ancestors who lurked in the darkness of caves and faced mortal perils- I'll never know. The absence of light doesn't bother me now nor does an empty house. I have evolved and so have my fears. My worst nightmares don't always witness me in a catastrophe; sometimes my close ones and specially my Dad appears to be in grave danger. Some of these ideas seem absurd in broad daylight but I wake up in the middle of the night with tears flowing down my cheeks or screaming.
The worst part is -at that time I don't have anyone to talk to about it. My own folks are in deep slumber then and people living in a different time zone are busy with their vagaries of life. You can't simply call up someone to say" Hey I had a shi**y dream.. so would care to pat my arms and wipe my tears and say 'It's OK?' " Sounds pretty stupid to me.
There might be so many out there who'd love your exquisiteness. Your beauty or grace or a certain attribute that makes them think you are special. But how many would love you even after knowing that beneath all that on the surface, you are just another "regular" person with private demons of your own. Some real. Some imaginary. Yet with a presence of their own.
Most people won't be interested to know how bad it feels to feel bad.
Love is a fallacy; I seek companionship.
When I am afraid, I might have the strength to overcome it. But I'd like to be reminded once in a while that I can whistle too.
Was it the fear of the unknown, of being lonely without my sense of sight, or merely a survival instinct handed down by my ancestors who lurked in the darkness of caves and faced mortal perils- I'll never know. The absence of light doesn't bother me now nor does an empty house. I have evolved and so have my fears. My worst nightmares don't always witness me in a catastrophe; sometimes my close ones and specially my Dad appears to be in grave danger. Some of these ideas seem absurd in broad daylight but I wake up in the middle of the night with tears flowing down my cheeks or screaming.
The worst part is -at that time I don't have anyone to talk to about it. My own folks are in deep slumber then and people living in a different time zone are busy with their vagaries of life. You can't simply call up someone to say" Hey I had a shi**y dream.. so would care to pat my arms and wipe my tears and say 'It's OK?' " Sounds pretty stupid to me.
There might be so many out there who'd love your exquisiteness. Your beauty or grace or a certain attribute that makes them think you are special. But how many would love you even after knowing that beneath all that on the surface, you are just another "regular" person with private demons of your own. Some real. Some imaginary. Yet with a presence of their own.
Most people won't be interested to know how bad it feels to feel bad.
Love is a fallacy; I seek companionship.
When I am afraid, I might have the strength to overcome it. But I'd like to be reminded once in a while that I can whistle too.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Have a dekho: my blog turns into a book
.jpg)
(Tentative)Cover page of my first book.
To my readers:
Thank you for your continuing patronage.
And to those whom I had promised a copy, please e-mail me your snail mail addresses to my gmail account.
Order can be placed by email to tripurainfo@yahoo.com
Title: The Day I was Proven Wrong
Author: Aparna Kar
Price : Rs.200
Sunday, February 04, 2007
What's your take?
This post was triggered by a mock interview and the question :"Quick comments on love, specially when we have Valentine's Day coming,10 days from now. "
I think it was rather disappointing when I told him " I don't believe in romantic love anymore. It is just a matter of convenience"
Let me elaborate.
The one is an over hyped concept. Nothing like that exists. That's my take. We are all trying to invent reasons to make our lives more meaningful... more purposeful..
In the end.. it's just a delusion. Or as one of my wise friends puts it " Just a decision". Yeah..maybe...a decision triggered by the thought processes in a particular time frame. At another place, another time your decision could be different. Parallel universe, multiple histories- call it whatever you may.. but think of it- what if "the one" for you never met you!!
There are so many billion people out there..what's the probability that you met the right one?
"And yet we decide on one"
Because we assign the importance to a person or an event. Itself it means nothing. And our view of "importance" is so absurdly myopic, born out of our need to make choices for survival.
Think of your existence compared to the vastness of the ever-expanding universe.
Try to imagine how scant , how important you are. And how ridiculous it is to find meaning in the modern desk jobs, material achievements, accolades etcetera etcetera.
Don't you see the inanity of your over indulgence in the accumulation of a few molecules which you call yourself- Aparna, Bryan or Zhang ?
And yet, we try to find meaning to our existence, which spans only across a blink of the universe. And we "believe" we will leave behind us a legacy - a pool of genes that will fight for its survival till Doomsday. By then they might have evolved or mutated to becomes chimps or some creature hitherto unknown to human history. But who cares? We know our days are numbered. And maybe that is why we try to give some meaning to it, feel alive, feel content.
I think it was rather disappointing when I told him " I don't believe in romantic love anymore. It is just a matter of convenience"
Let me elaborate.
The one is an over hyped concept. Nothing like that exists. That's my take. We are all trying to invent reasons to make our lives more meaningful... more purposeful..
In the end.. it's just a delusion. Or as one of my wise friends puts it " Just a decision". Yeah..maybe...a decision triggered by the thought processes in a particular time frame. At another place, another time your decision could be different. Parallel universe, multiple histories- call it whatever you may.. but think of it- what if "the one" for you never met you!!
There are so many billion people out there..what's the probability that you met the right one?
"And yet we decide on one"
Because we assign the importance to a person or an event. Itself it means nothing. And our view of "importance" is so absurdly myopic, born out of our need to make choices for survival.
Think of your existence compared to the vastness of the ever-expanding universe.
Try to imagine how scant , how important you are. And how ridiculous it is to find meaning in the modern desk jobs, material achievements, accolades etcetera etcetera.
Don't you see the inanity of your over indulgence in the accumulation of a few molecules which you call yourself- Aparna, Bryan or Zhang ?
And yet, we try to find meaning to our existence, which spans only across a blink of the universe. And we "believe" we will leave behind us a legacy - a pool of genes that will fight for its survival till Doomsday. By then they might have evolved or mutated to becomes chimps or some creature hitherto unknown to human history. But who cares? We know our days are numbered. And maybe that is why we try to give some meaning to it, feel alive, feel content.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)