The 4th Seat

Hatred and Regret!

noreply@blogger.com (Shweta Dabholkar) — Sun, 15 Dec 2013 17:42:00 +0000

There are certain confessions I should make before you proceed reading this story, as I don’t want you to derive any sort conclusions about me.

1. I love plants. I talk to my plants everyday and I believe that talking to the plants makes them healthier.
2. I love all animals apart from cats.
3. I think, more than 50% people are incurious and unaware OR I have met 50% of the incurious and unaware population of the world. The remaining 50% I yet have to encounter. I’m convinced at 22 ,that the future is all about meeting these remaining 50%. No doubt , I never got the half-glass-filled theory.

(And now I think, I have made it worse. However, I bet there’s more to this. )

Since childhood I was often asked if I hated anything. My answer was always NO. People thought I was lying but I didn't care, as I knew that I actually did not hate anything. I always thought of hatred as a very important feeling. In fact it is the most important feeling which is why one should not waste it on someone unworthy.

It was somewhere around September this year, no , not when Hatred struck me but when my mother suddenly developed some fondness over pigeons for reasons only known to her which I’m incapable of understanding.But this was nothing new to me. My mother is capable of doing anything. Leave her with a group of Americans and in an hour you would hear all of them singing Hindu devotional songs. So, I was happy thinking that the pigeons hadn't begun singing at least.

My mother used to feed them and talk to them. If birds were allowed to be the heirs of any property, my mother would have done that too, she had grown so friendly towards them.

I had no problem with pigeons which had become her pets,until...

These pigeons had built their nest right outside my kitchen. They created all sorts of noises even while my mother wasn’t around at all hours of the day. Right from mating, fighting & loving to cheating , they did it all in front of my eyes. No, I wasn’t interested in their life but was simply curious to know why do they have to make noise all the time.

I wasn’t able to write, read or sleep. My ears had become so used to their noise that at night my ears imagined that noise while they actually slept. My life had gone topsy-turvy. I had dark circles all over my face.

After 6 long months and their 2 generations (I guess), I decided to put an end to this mess.

On a Sunday, I woke up early in the morning and emptied a brand new PONDS POWDER in their nest, of course in their absence. I wouldn't say this trick worked, but it was effective to some extent.
Two out of the four pigeons migrated to some other place. But the other two enjoyed in their nest as if they were in a powdery-bath tub. As I kept looking at them when they fluttered their wings in the powder filled nest and all the powder particles rose up into the air to seek homage on my face.
Failed attempt!

In my 2^nd attempt I poured the bowl of water which I had used for painting on the pigeons. Ohh!! They had become red and yellow.. Now this time I succeeded in getting rid of one of the two pigeons. Just one left! I knew this one was the strongest, smartest and the most rigid one. I had to think indicatively.

In my third attempt I somehow managed to occupy my mother with activities that would benefit her, which included devotional trips at nearby places, SPA’s and movies (Morning shows-are-cheap-trick worked). After four hungry days , the pigeon finally left for some other place. I had thought the pigeon would never come back and my misery had ended.

However, after a peaceful week, one fine morning, I heard that same annoying sound. I got up from my bed to trace the source of the sound and reached in my bedroom's balcony. It was the same pigeon. It looked me in the eye again. Sometimes you know something bad is going to happen and this one was one of those classic moments for me.

I had no time to think about what could happen. I had to hurry to office. I quickly took a bath and was all set to go when I opened my bag to check if I was carrying my Cellphone charger. (My bag is so messy that a thief would get tired and not end up stealing anything eventually.) I entered my room’s balcony and emptied all its contents on the railing to find the charger. It was within seconds of finding the charger when the happiness hadn't even sunk in, when the same pigeon flew away right next to me taking away my railway pass.

How do I know it was the same pigeon? It was red and yellow.

On other days I never ever found TC’s at the station but on this day when everything was going wrong I was caught by the TC. No surprises, I had to pay Rs 650 as fine, go back to the ticket counter stand in the line and buy a new ticket. Yes, I was late. I was late for the presentation. The last thing I wanted to see were my ideas being presented by my rival. Moral of the story-We won the the client but the brand was no more mine.

But I couldn’t blame my boss or the rival or the TC or the slow moving train or Mumbai traffic.
What do I tell my boss? A pigeon is responsible for the delay? No he wasn’t in the mood to listen to any excuses either. (Afterall, it was he who had come up with the tag line for ‘Sprint DEO’ – ‘No more excuses’.)

How difficult is it to sustain a smile on your face in undesired situations, is something I learned that day.

The pantry of my office was located on the terrace and had a roof to avoid any trespassing by birds. I didn’t even feel like eating anything .So, I simply ordered curd. While I was busy recollecting the entire days mess, I saw the same pigeon sitting on my terrace railing. It wasn’t facing me but I caught him looking at me.

Then I just realized that I’m hallucinating. There isn’t any pigeon in front of me. I have merged my thoughts into reality. Just when I was convinced about the pigeons presence being an illusion , the pigeon moved side- ways and looked at me right in the eye again. I couldn’t believe a pigeon stalking me. But what happened next is something that I still don’t believe. This pigeon with yellow and red spots flew right on my table and dipped his beak in my curd.

I screamt and moved back in such a way that I fell off the chair, pushing the person walking next to me in such that his plate landed exactly on my head. While this happened everything had changed ; people’s views about me, my developments in a prospective relationship and the brand of course. But one thing didn’t change the pigeon was standing still on the table looking at all the people staring at me in disgust.

More than being embarrassed I was angry and helpless.
I decided to leave office early that day. I was on my way to the station and stuck in traffic right next to a pigeon feeding place. I was intently looking at all the pigeons. A thought came into my mind: what if the pigeon is still following me and has made friends with all the pigeons in this country and is planning an attack on me sometime soon. Just when all these thoughts were erupting in my head, a pigeon flew in my direction. It reminded me of the morning incident , followed by paranoia which made me scream and throw the change in my hand on the pigeons.

What happened next is no less than a scar.

Because of my scream all the pigeons flew in the opposite direction and ended up hitting the glass of a bus in the opposite lane. The impact of all pigeons was such that the glass broke, the driver was hurt and the bus hit a newly renovated Bar. I couldn’t believe I had witnessed this tragic incident and my scream led to it.
I closed my eyes to get a sense of reality and when I opened it, I saw the red & yellow pigeon on the bark of a tree. I saw him looking at me.

However, before people could trace the source of this accident , I stepped out of the taxi and began walking towards the station.

I was 22 and yes, I had my first ever encounter with HATRED. It was extremely discouraging. I had dreamt of hating an important person, I had thought so high of Hatred and here I was living an unimaginable dream- I HATE PIGEONS.

On my way back home, all the loose ends were automatically tied together. The pigeon must have taken a week break to come up with a full proof revenge plan.
By the end of this action packed day, I knew it was war and I had to gear up.

I googled, I thought and I innovated 56 ways to get rid of pigeons. I was totally ready to put my plan into action.

I went to bed at around 2am and woke up late. It was a Saturday, a holiday. My mother was already awake. She forced me to feed the pigeons. She said, “When one feeds pigeons, one’s home is filled with more and more grains.”. Yes I too fed the same pigeon because I didn’t want to disappoint my mother.
I had a perfect plan in place.

Once my mother stepped out of the house I transferred cold water in a flask to pour it onto the pigeon but neither was he there nor was the nest there.

I don’t know why, but within a second, I felt bad. I looked at the flask I was holding and I had tears in my eyes, I don’t know why?

I thought a lot about it. May be the pigeon finally gave up. May be the pigeon succeeded in his revenge strategy OR may be he thought I’ve changed because I fed him in the morning on my mother’s insistence and sacrificed his happiness for mine.

The truth is no matter how hard I try to make my self feel good by believing in the first two points, somewhere deep down in my heart I’m convinced about the latter being the reason behind his disappearance.

I feel so small. I wish if I had fed him willingly.

My first and only encounter with hatred and......with regret too.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

They've all got it all wrong

noreply@blogger.com (Shweta Dabholkar) — Sun, 22 Sep 2013 17:04:00 +0000

All of us have been told stories in our childhood and we loved it. Inducing sleep wasn’t the sole purpose of these stories. The little secret being, we all did fall asleep in the middle of the story but we all took that story ahead and created fantastic screenplays in our dreams. With the changing times, the art of storytelling has been modified into different elements , books being one of the oldest and television /films being the latest.

I’m not getting into, the ‘Do films and television have a positive/negative influence on audiences’ zone. I’d say, every creation should fulfill its purpose. Not fulfilling the purpose of your creation doesn’t necessarily always end up with misuse. It is also wasting an opportunity you are given. Some people would think of it as a misuse if it had a negative influence on the audiences. However, what would you say when a particular show/film comes up with something absolutely rubbish , in other words wastes its opportunity /doesn’t fulfill its purpose and people still watch it religiously? Is the show fooling people or the people want to be fooled?

If you ask channel heads or production houses, they will always say, “people watch this nonsense, they like it, so why stop making it?”. So does the audience really like watching absolute rubbish?

When I see people dancing to the tunes of ‘Laila teri le legi tu likh ke lele’ during an auspicious Indian festival and people (photographers, news channels) propagating it as something Indian , I think the situation has gone far worse in terms of what to tell whom . It is more like, 'What all to tell who all’, the latter being more like ‘who all’ (lowers the voice and narrows the worry lines).

But I most definitely want to tell the Indian Television Industry that ‘They’ve all got it, all wrong’. I have watched most of the Indian television shows since childhood and have been an ardent fan of this medium. When multiplexes and malls hadn’t found their way, back then in the 80’s and 90’s ,Television was such an integral part of our lives. Let me point out that people watched television then because they loved the content and not because watching films in theatres was inaccessible or unaffordable. The shows then, were content oriented.

Sensible dialogues, acceptable screenplay , appropriate dramatic direction and good actors left audiences wanting more. Eminent actors and directors were a part of the television industry then. To name a few Sanjay Leela Bhansali, Naseeruddin Shah, Pankaj Kapoor and many more were responsible for what television was then.

In the late 70’s and early 80’s the entire country witnessed all the entertainment on one channel, ‘DD channel’. Shows like, Byomkesh Bakshi, Karamchand, Mungerilal Ke Haseen Sapne, Buniyaad, Wagle Ki Duniya, Nukkad, Jasoos Vijay,Kahan Gaye Who Log, Malgudi Days, Jungle Book had successfully managed to take people away from all their daily tensions to a world of exciting stories. Ask your parents and they will definitely tell you that they miss them.

In the 90’s, as a child I remember watching sitcoms like Hum Paanch, Jabaan Sambhalke, Ghar Jamai, Shrimaan Shrimati, Office Office, Dekh Bhai Dekh, Yes Boss, Tu Tu Main Main to name a few.

Serious shows like Shanti, Saans, Alpviram, and Kora Kaagaz too had some excellent performances and not to forget a brilliant storyline.

Why don’t we get to see such shows today?

The channels and PH’s, they should know that when there is parity in the market the customer prefers the worse over worst and that does not make the worse, best. The truth remains the same. All the T.V shows are horrible /unbearable and people choose to watch shows that are comparatively less horrible, but that does not take away the fact that the show with the highest TRP is HORRIBLE.

The entire family drama and saas bahu saga had gathered impetus with the legendaries produced by Balaji Telefilms;Kyunki Saans Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi and Kahaani Ghar Ghar Ki. Not that this genre didn’t exist before, but the launch of these 2 shows around the same time at a prime-time slot forced everybody to watch it, as other shows were way too unbearable, I guess. The industry mistook this no-other-option theory as the only-correct-option-theory. As a result of which even after a decade, family dramas and saas-bahu sagas top the TRP chart. No, not because they are good but simply because every single channel and production house came up with the same stuff. So, the audiences’ selected the less horrible.

In 2009, Yash Raj films’ much discussed television stint with 5 new shows turned out to be a failed stunt. They did raise some eyebrows but all of them were in the direction of universal questions; ‘What’ and ‘Why’. The technical aspects of these shows; cinematography, editing etc was too good for television standards but with content-less storyline it had to meet the fate it eventually did.

In the early 2000’s shows like Love Story, Jassi Jaisi Koi Nahi, Remix, Happy Go Lucky, Special Squad, Sanjivani , Saara Aakash had started off very well. They were totally content driven but later they too lost track. However, I’d say these shows were better.

There was one show which not only matched the standards of old school but raised them to another level, yes I’m talking about Sarabhai v/s Sarabhai. It was the best show on Indian Television, so far.

What makes all the old shows and Sarabhai v/s Sarabhai stand out are its characters. Your story moves ahead only when a character reacts in a particular way. Now, just because every character in these memorable shows had a finely detailed characteristic sketch that was way too different than the other characters, the show always had exciting storylines.

The shows rocking TRP charts today have more or less the same storyline which is highly unrealistic. Firstly, every show has a huge family which resides in a mansion(understatement). For some unknown reasons, the female characters are always dressed up in flashy outfits which 3kg makeup(not exaggerating). Another striking observation;no one seems to be employed. Yes, all the characters are at home all the time. The audience has to assume that they have a family business and every member of the family is a businessman, but no one goes to work.

Marathi T.V has had some awesome shows like ‘Abhaalmaya’ , ‘Shriyut Gangadhar Tipre’ and ‘Avantika’ . The situation now is the same in Marathi T.V industry as well, infact it is far worse. Daily soaps rock the charts here, as well. However once in a while they do come up with good shows like, ‘Eka Lagnachi Dusri Goshta’. They’ve basically started aping Hindi T.V industry.

Ohh, how can I forget the music channels. Gone are those days when we had talented VJ's like Cyrus Broacha, Malaika Arora etc. Who is the last nice VJ you remember? In fact do they have VJ's today? No, they don't. How will they? When music channels have come up with daily soap type shows , where do you expect VJ's to show up? And the reason is- 'Back then , songs weren't available online . Now that today everyone has access to music online who will watch music shows? Well, well..well, what about COKE STUDIO? If you come up with a nice music shows instead of unbearable reality shows and daily soaps, music lovers will watch your channel. No one, ever wanted to see MTV and Channel V in the GEC list.

However,the new trend which most definitely needs a reality check is ‘reality television’. What the hell are they doing? Roadies was fine till season 4, after that it was a podium for fame hungry struggling actors who screamed, fought, abused and did a lot of unmentionable things just for the heck of appearing on T.V.. Later shows like, Bigg Boss, Is Jungle se Mujhe bachao etc served as a podium for established failed actors who again screamt, fought, abused and did a lot of other unmentionable things, for the sake of creating more drama in the name of TRP’s. This is how it works, they ask audiences to vote which is never taken into consideration while deciding the winner of the show. Infact,the one who creates more drama is the one who isn’t eliminated. So, all the contestants fake it. How is it reality television then?

Reality Talent shows like Indian Idol, DID opened doors to other talent reality shows on the same lines of dancing and singing.Though the winner of these shows is based on audience votes, every show has 3 judges.What is the significance of these judges would be an explorative thesis topic.by the way, there is also a set pattern for judges. One judge will be someone who has some knowledge of the talent(singing/dancing), the second one should have no knowledge of the talent and should make a fool of oneself for the sake of creating unwanted drama and the 3^rd one should not be a fluent hindi speaker. Channels have come up with the junior version of the several shows, for children, in the name of ‘Junior ABC/XYZ’.

What surprises me , are the parents who bring their little children to participate in these reality shows. Every single child, too wants to appear on T.V. I wonder when these children go to school. We have so many so called child celebrities, that I wouldn’t be surprised ,if just like other shows , one day there is a 'BIGG BOSS JUNIOR'. Shows like these, accelerate the ‘Extinction of Innocence’ process.

Not to forget the forced comedy shows. ‘Tarak Mehta ka ulta Chasma’ had started off with a bang but later it too lost its track. ‘Comedy nights with kapil’ has the highest TRP today in the non fiction category and a lot of people seem to like it, but again it is also forced comedy. Some Punches are really good but on a whole, no. It is a show which invites people on stage who are classified as not normal by the self proclaimed behaviour setters of society and made fun of based on their physicality. Now, obviously the channel pays them to make fool of themselves. But how evil is it to propagate any message around physicality. And if the audiences are liking any such show that demeans people then we seriously need to get a reality check. Moreover, we all know how witty and talented #KapilSharma is. He is capable of doing much better. So, are we lacking at funny content too, to finally take aid at poking fun at FAT, BALD, BLACK, SHORT, GAY people?

In the comedy genre no one has come near Marathi shows like, ‘Fu Bai Fu’ and ‘Comedy express’. If there can be content here why not on Hindi television?

Let us look at it this way, most Masala movies aren’t working these days .The audiences are getting more inclined towards meaningful cinema. Hence, we cannnot blame the audience. Because, if there has been such a massive shift in cinema viewership then the same is definitely possible in the television industry. With the availability of You Tube and other online production companies , the urban/educated audience is no more watching any of the T.V shows.

If it continues this way,soon, someday even the rural/uneducated audience because of whom the shows bask in glory of good TRP’s will shift their focus, too. When this audience too will shift to online forces , television will be extinct.

The viewer has the capability to change the entire industry dynamics. So, be very careful as to what you watch .

Just like our initial films inspired by Hollywood flicks, which eventually triggered some original concepts and raised the standard of Indian film industry, I do have some hope from ‘24’ (a new television series going on air in 4th oct.2013), even if it is a Hollywood show adaptation.

The reason why Hollywood shows are good is because they already know how many episodes they are going to make. They go on air with a set content.

In India the content is stretched and modified after the show goes on air. Sarabhai v/s Sarabhai was episodic and was a weekly show, which is why they had time to think, revise and pen down the storyline of each episode. If we come up with several shows like these either weekly or with a specific number of episodes and a set pattern, I’m sure the Indian Television will get their audience back , like never before.

It is only when we demand content we will get one. If there can be a change in cinema , there definitely can be one in television. So, choose what you watch.

Tiffin Box

noreply@blogger.com (Shweta Dabholkar) — Sun, 18 Aug 2013 12:30:00 +0000

I’m an extremist, is what I’ve discovered after travelling down the memory lane today and finding one peculiar incident which I had not thought of anytime after its occurrence . On being asked any questions about me, my mother has always said that I was a very naughty child. However I really am not. Trust me, I never bullied anyone or otherwise. I always wanted to do something and ended up doing something else ,now that isn’t naughty. I still do not know moderate and which is why I end up doing something unplanned.

As a child, I had a lot of food tantrums. I did not eat any vegetable. All I wanted was fish. Owing to which I was very thin. I was almost convinced by my brother that I was an anorexic and was going to die soon. School recess hence was something that I never enjoyed because I never liked most of the food which my mom used to pack. I always left it half eaten. Every day in the evening my mom used to yell at me emptying the half-empty tiffin into the dust bin.

One fine day on my way to school, I, along with a few friends tricked my nanny with the view of troubling her and ran into an unusual lane. Seeing the nanny run behind us everybody increased their speed to extract more fun until I discovered none of my friends or my nanny behind me and saw myself standing in a strange lane. I did not panic.

I remembered the most irritating phase of my life- when I’d go out with my mother to meet our long lost relatives locating whom was a task my mother mastered at. FYI My mother used to introduce them to me saying, “Remember, we’d met XYZ at ABC place”. Initially I used to produce a question mark expression which was later modified into a fake shrug/smile.

I, kind of having unofficially assisted my mother at location hunting, very well knew the drill. I, a 7 year old could just make out who would help me out with the correct directions to my school and who wouldn’t. I felt very independent as I made my way towards my school. I was a minute away from school at the cross road, when the vehicles from the left side were released and the crossing signal turned red; I was forced to halt. Cursing the traffic signal I looked at the left side.

As the vehicles passed by I saw an old woman sitting on the opposite footpath all by herself. Something within me prompted me to go and see that woman. Maybe , it was my curiosity backed by her image being disturbed by the passing vehicles. May be I wanted to see her face. May be....

As the signal turned green and all the vehicles stopped I ran to see the old woman.

Her skin was containing over a million wrinkles ; it was the first thing I noticed in her. She reminded me of those anorexic faces my brother scared me away with. Within a fraction of a second I thought of her to be an anorexic and the immediate word that I associated with anorexic- food;prompted me to open my tiffin box.

I was devastated to see what I saw then….. PRAWNS RICE! After 3 months of the holy period and back to back Gods and their reincarnations’ birthday celebrations that doomed my fish craving, my mother had given my favourite delicacy.

I looked at her and then looked at the ‘prawns rice’. A thought of tasting it , or giving the old lady half of it crossed my mind. But overcoming all those temptations I told myself, “I would never like eating someone’s leftovers. Given a choice no one would. Either I should give her the tiffin box intact, or just not give it” (Indeed, I’m an extremist)

I handed over the tiffin box to her and then the smile that shone on her face is something that I still cherish.

Looking at her smiling face I said, “You are indeed very hungry right?”

She looked me in the eye and said, “No, I’m just very happy.”

I was startled. I asked, “Happy, you also like prawns rice?”

She held the neatly packed tiffin box in her hand and said, “For the first time in the past 83 years someone has been so selfless to me.”

I didn’t know the meaning of the word selfless then. So I just exhibited my classic confused expression.

With the view of clearing my doubt she said, “What will you eat now?”

That question churned wheels of day-dreaming in my head like never before. I said, “I don’t know, I didn’t really think about that. But, don’t worry, I’ll eat something from my friends tiffin, I guess.”

She shrugged, smiled gently and said, “Now ,that is selfless. Retain your innocence.Do not let it get lost in this human charade.”

I began to question my knowledge and vocabulary skills. I didn’t understand anything of what she was talking about, which triggered the memory of my class teacher with her patent dialogue that I never understood-‘Did you understand?’, to which everyone replied saying, ‘YES TEACHER’, while I simply used to ponder over everything. She had become so used to this dialogue that sometimes she used to start the class with-‘Did you understand?’ which was always followed by –‘YES TEACHER’.

While my thoughts were flowing haywire the woman interrupted them saying, “Are you sure you will manage? Or else I‘ll take the half of it.”

I said, “No, No…. I’ll manage. Don’t worry.”

She laughed at me and said, “Don’t you have to go to school?”

Zipping my bag and transferring it onto my shoulder I said, “Yes, thanks… I’d completely forgotten about it. I’ll leave now”

The old woman glared at me with tears about to fall off her eyes and said, “May you always retain your innocence and go places. God bless you.”

I smiled back at her saying bye and went to school.

Later, in the evening when my mother was washing utensils she asked me for my tiffin box, which I had left with the old lady. I narrated the entire story to her. She listened to it without interrupting and with complete concentration . I’d thought she’d make prawns rice the whole week, now.

With a smile like never before she said, “Woww…… just another classic story from your mind. If you aren’t able to do anything with your life, you could be a very good storyteller. However I’m your mother…. And you can’t fool me. You have lost your tiffin and you shall not go to play this week.”

I am sharing my Do RIght Stories at BlogAdda.com in association with Tata Capital.

Hear the deaf world

noreply@blogger.com (Shweta Dabholkar) — Wed, 31 Jul 2013 18:19:00 +0000

What if you are dispatched into a country where people speak a language you have no clue of and vice-verse. You wouldn't be able to listen to the happenings around you, and you would just have to guess what was going around? You'd see someone talking to you but you wouldn’t know what he/she is talking? You would’ve liked or disliked something but you could not be able to express it in words?

This is exactly what the deaf and dumb go through. They aren't disabled but sent to a place different than theirs. They too can communicate with people who speak their language;the sign language.
What would you expect from the people of a different country is exactly what the deaf and dumb expect from us; communication, understanding,opportunity and equality.

Ruma Roka's inspiring words.

No, we aren’t sympathizing on them, no, not at all.

This article is about why they are better at certain things than anyone else. Let us focus on their ability.

A deaf person doesn’t get anything easily ever because of which they value every single thing which becomes a part of their life. They’re loyal.

They put in a lot of thought before deciding on doing/wanting something, because they know that they have to put in a lot of efforts to achieve it. They’re organized and focused.

They know how to get what they want and a struggle to achieve the same is what makes them more hardworking than any normal person.

They should be every company's dream employees. They’re loyal, organized, focused and hardworking souls. Still, in India they’re considered special, specially challenged to an extent where they’re not even considered for any job openings. Most deaf and dumb people in India are doing clerical jobs or any other documenting work.

I’m not saying any work is demeaning but if an efficient person is asked to be a peon, that is ridiculous.A lot of things are changing in India but not at the required pace. Due to the Persons With Disabilities act (PWD), deaf and dumb are now working in government sectors but they are very few people.

In India there are nearly 10-15 million deaf people. Do you think all of them are working? NO!
Instead of whining about how the society fails let us explore what we could do to bring about a change.

Beginning with....

How many of us know to speak the ISL (Indian sign language)?

If you aren’t an NGO person or have a deaf person in your family, I bet most of you won’t know the sign language. Everybody wants to learn French, Japanese ,Spanish, German. Would speaking in these languages to people who already know them, get a smile that you would never forget in your whole life? If you can use you tube to see the latest SCAM, I’m sure you could invest some time in learning this wonderful language which says everything withoutreally saying anything.

Note, they don’t want you to make them feel special. Remember, the moment you do that, you discriminate. To make them feel a part of the society do not sympathize, but be normal and for that you need to be able to communicate with them.

One such person who is making a difference is Ms. Ruma Roka. I saw a video of hers and was inspired to write this piece. She is the founder of the Noida Deaf society.The mission of the Noida Deaf Society is to mainstream the deaf people into the community through specialized vocational programmes leading to gainful employment. After their specific course completion the organization also recruits the students in renowned companies.

Ms Ruma Roka has struggled to prove that the disabled are more able than anyone else.

With over 625 students being recruited,NDS inspires us to contribute in some way or the other and make a little difference. So how many of you have made up your mind to learn ISL?

Franklin Templeton Investments partnered the TEDxGateway Mumbai in December 2012.Ruma Roka at TED

"I don't really exist"

noreply@blogger.com (Shweta Dabholkar) — Sun, 28 Jul 2013 18:17:00 +0000

Tring Tring the phone rang. I hoped it to be Ritika and it was her to my delight.

“If I ever become famous and if anyone from my future generations would ever decide to pen down our family history apart from a lot of chaotic confusions ,it would contain 7 world wars and if someone decides to do a thesis of the same they would discover a very important facet i.e the source of genes for weak mathematics was me.”

“Shamika, it all lies in your head. I have recently read somewhere- whatever you tell your mind you become that. There are so many people who aren’t good at Maths, you aren’t the first one”

“ But Ritika, I’m the first one in my entire family and extended family. They are all good at Maths, Mom got me checked when I was 7.”

“Yes, but it was to know your mental state and not for tracing your DNA. Plus, the doctor had told her very clearly that you are normal. Your problem is that you refuse to concentrate.”

“That isn’t true, ofcourse I try to but just when I begin to try to understand the shapes of all those numbers get the hell out me. '0' is my favourite number, because it is the only number that is a complete shape, all other numbers are incomplete shapes. The moment those numbers come before my eyes I spontaneously begin thinking of ways to reshape it and just when I start imagining nicer shapes, I realize that the solution to the problem is already explained.”

“By concentration , I mean this. You focus in the wrong areas.”

“I don’t deliberately do that, it just happens. I cannot explain you. According to you Maths is the most logical subject, but I think the other way round. Who decided to name numbers? Why do we stretch only 4 fingers to show 4? And could anyone tell me why all the scientists known to us were all good at maths…. Why wasn’t there anyone who wasn’t good at Math?”

“Scientists who were uninterested in math were mostly called Artists. Anyway, why do you make such a deal out of Maths every time? You know you are intelligent, you top in History every year and you are not bad in other subjects?”

“Yes, but our school mark sheet has a column for Math Marks? Until that column disappears, it is normal to worry.”

“Okay, Okay, what is it that you are studying now? How much is left?”

“Firstly, I don’t study Maths … I learn it and secondly ask me how much is done….because I forget what I studied 10 mins ago after every 10 mins. I’m left with everything I guess! WoW… tomorrow is Maths paper”

“Relax Shamika, you still have one night to go.”

“That is exactly the problem. Like every year Mom had taken a leave today for my Maths paper.”

“hahahaha… 7^th world war in 7^th grade, ahhahaha”

“Shamikaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.”

“Ritika,I will have to hang the phone now, I think she is done with pleasing all the Gods… now she’ll displease me. I’ll call you later. Byee”

“Bye!”

I ran into the kitchen, checked on my mother’s gestures to know her mood when she said, “God, be with my child, let only those questions whose answers are known to Shamika be asked in the paper.”

I told myself in my mind, “If god was with me, there would never be Maths.”

My mom stared at me as if she was trying to read my mind.

I grabbed hold of the bananas lying in the fruit basket and said, “Do you think GOD will listen to a woman who hits her child so brutally.”

My mom looked me in the eye. Her sight penetrated right through such that all her thoughts passed like cosmic rays into my brain and screamt saying ,”My hands are swollen, I’ve just got an injection, my headache refuses to lessen such that I had to give up on you like every time and you are eating bananas.”

After a 6.5 second short stare she said, “Any woman will, if her 12 year old child tells her- 2x3 is 5 a day before the Maths paper. You have told yourself that you aren’t good at Maths and have accepted it but I haven’t.”

I was about to bite the banana however I lost all hopes in life, no , not in me but my mother and I returned to my room. I decided to demonstrate the- “you are what you tell your mind” theory. I told my mind that I’m Pythagoras. I imagined a Triangle and just when was about to figure out the triplet 2-3-5, I heard something ringing, however I tried to focus on the triplets.... now the sound was even stronger. I suddenly opened my eyes, just to check if it was my landline. Although my landline wasn’t ringing I decided to pick up the phone. When I placed the receiver at my ear , TRING TRING the phone rang…..

I was stumped; how come there was a TRING TRING sound being heard when I hadn’t dialed anyone’s number? So I kept the receiver down and again placed it near my ear… The TRING TRING sound was still being heard. This time I didn’t keep the phone down. I wanted to know who was on the other line and how come the phone had dialed a number on its own. I thought, maybe, this is how the phone ends up calling random people on its own and mom shouts at me for the never decreasing bills. It was an unusually long dial tone.

Then, it seems the receptionist picked the phone and instead of asking me , “Whom can I connect you to?” She said, “Ms Shamika you are on hold for the next 7 seconds, 5…4…3…2..1…”

Then came a heavenly voice, “Shamika, first let me tell you that out of the vast population out there we only select 1 person in every one hundred years to communicate with, that too ,only when we find something really logical in their worry. Congratulations, you are the chosen one in the past 100 years.”

I was on top of the world, I didn’t care who they were because I had never felt so happy about not knowing anything ever before.

I said,"Who are you and how am I talking to you without dialing your number?”

“I’m talking to you because you remembered me.”

“Ohh my GOD… You are GOD? My mom shall go mad at me if she comes to know that you spoke to me and not her, wait I’ll call her.”

“Ohh common, I’m not GOD but we function more or less like him. If I was, I would come in your dream. Well we do not have access to dreams because we do not have a face, in your words, what you rightly pointed at – THE SHAPE. By the way,I’m INFINITY.”

“What INFINITY?”

“I’m the Number GOD.”

“What , so you should know that I hate you all…

He cut my sentence and said, “That is exactly why I’m talking to you. See, I did tell you that we more or less function like GOD’s . Just as God sometimes talks to Atheists, people who do not believe in him; we too talk to people who don’t believe in us.”

“But I’m not the only one who hates you.”

“You’re right, but you are a loyal unbeliever. Others sometimes like us when they score well in Maths, however you have hated us even after you’ve scored well; which was in Grade 3 – Sem 3 and Grade 5 –Sem 2, the time when you’re mother had got a migraine attack and was hospitalized.”

“What else do you expect? She was on leave for 5 days and I had said, 10x1 is 0.”

“Yes, so coming to the point, we believe a loyal unbeliever could be a remarkable believer. However, no bread is free. We believe in business.”

“Yeah I know, numbers and business go hand in hand. Tell me what you want?”

Infinity cleared his throat and said, “Just like 0 , we want you to reshape the rest of the numbers. Remember, you had said, the moment these numbers appear before you, you think of how badly they’re shaped and fail to understand the solution of the problem. The entire digit questioning of yours –Why do we stretch only 4 fingers to show 4? So we want you to design us in a way that you could understand.

Give us any shape, any design,any color.”

“Why don’t you ask the one who designed 0, my favourite number.”

“Actually, no one knows who designed us. We don’t know our womb”

“Awwww, I’m so sorry !!”

“Never mind”

“Infinity, are you serious? Because I’m on the job…. Give me a pen and a paper, I have thought of excellent shapes for you.”

“Shamika, no , we don’t need a paper, Just like the telephone we work through telepathy. Telepathy means reading one’s mind. So, as far as you can imagine those shapes, we can see them.”

“Cool Infinity, are you ready? So note down ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX , SEVEN, EIGHT, NINE”

“Shamika, you are a genius….. You have given us not only eyes and other features but different colored clothes as well. Thank You so much.”

“Actually, I should be thanking you…. WOW, now it would be much easier for me to understand Maths. I can now figure out everything I studied…. Suddenly it is all getting organized in my head. Everything is rising from the ashes, hahhaa. I think tomorrow’s paper is going to be really good.”

“Yeah, it will. All the best.”

“That reminds me to ask you, have you called me or has my phone called you? If the bill is too much…aaaa ..Are you from Maharashtra ? If you are from some other state, difficult times lie in the next month for me. Are you even from my country? How much would a call charge in the universe? The bill would be my last will…

“Hahahahhaha, check your next months bill, you’ll come to know.”

“By the way, I forgot to design you, Infinity?’’

“Shamika, I don’t really exist, I'm Infinity.”

Those were the last words I heard. That day onward, no, I never topped in Maths, but my Mom never had to hit me a day prior to my Maths exams. I'd like to believe, it wasn't just an imagination.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

I saw, I learnt

noreply@blogger.com (Shweta Dabholkar) — Tue, 23 Jul 2013 18:32:00 +0000

I don't know if I'm born with defects as I perceive it,which could be perceived as a god gift by an optimist. I guess, the set up of our mind is the result of a trial and error method (learning and deleting) that happens in our sub conscious mind. Whatever processes in our sub conscious is what we are totally unaware of and that is exactly what changes your life. Incidences that change us, our thoughts and the vision of looking at life are what we see and we learn from.This data enters your sub conscious mind first, because you hadn't planned learning it and after sometime when you ponder over the magnitude of its effect on you, you become completely conscious of what you see and then you learn.

In this post I shall describe what I saw and I learnt.

When I was 11,I had participated in a prayer dance performance of my school annual day. We had to shake our legs to the tunes of 'Pyaasa hiran jaise'. The protagonist according to the lyrics of the song was a deer, hence, it was mandatory to have a deer in the song. The teachers incharge of the prayer dance said,"the girl who chooses to be the deer gets to be in the centre and she'll be the lead".None of the girls expressed a desire to be the deer. However, I did. I was so happy throughout all the practice sessions being in the centre. All other girls used to envy me for having raised my hand first before anyone else. I was always told by the teachers that I'd be noticed before anyone else, so my expressions and steps had to be perfect. I was all happy until an hour before the performance when my teachers got the costume and I discovered that I had to wear a deer-mask. I was so devastated on realizing that the teachers have fooled me.

"My face wouldn't be seen, how will people come to know that I was the deer, I was dancing beautifully, I was in the centre?". I refused to perform. My teachers called my mother and pleaded her to make me understand. Ideally even my mother should have been angry with the teachers for having fooled her daughter.

However, my mother did not say a word to them.Instead she told me,"Animals are the most beautiful creatures made by God. No one ever gets a chance to be an animal. Look around, everybody is wearing outfits that you will get a chance to wear ahead in your life. No one is as lucky as you, you get to be an animal. You are the lucky one. Don't you want to make the maximum use of this opportunity. Do you want to follow the crowd or do you want to be different?"

I was blown by what my mother had said. Suddenly I felt all good about my outfit, I felt different. I could see people looking at me through those mask holes where my eyes rested. That was the happiest moment of my life.

I saw and I learnt that it is only the different that is noticed and celebrated and it is only the one who discovers good in the bad who is different.

From that day on, I have always done everything differently and somehow I have always stood out without even trying to be.

According to others I was a fool to be happy in the deer outfit. I learnt, I don't have to care a damn as to what others think or say if I am convinced about my decisions. Since I don't care a damn about what others think, I'm responsible for whatever happens with my life and I should blame no one but myself for my failures and success.

I am sharing what 'I Saw and I Learnt' at BlogAdda.com in association with DoRight.in.

When you say nothing at all

noreply@blogger.com (Shweta Dabholkar) — Sun, 07 Jul 2013 18:18:00 +0000

If my day hadn’t begun with a tea-sipping hiss-hiss sound, a 1950’s C grade song of a F grade movie, a wet floor, tremendous sound of utensils and finally overhearing world’s most ridiculous gossips , I wouldn’t believe I am alive. No, I’m not talking about my wife. I’m a 33 year old accountant and I’m talking about my 33 year old roommate, Iris. It's a HE. Do not ponder over his name as there are a lot of other unusual things that deserve more attention. Unlike most Parsi families, Iris’ family is a huge one. It comprises of 67 people.

They are much respected in the Parsi community. They had to be, I mean, one of their ancestors must have come to the rescue of the decreasing population. Actually, I owe a lot to that ancestor. If it wasn’t for him , I would have never met Iris and got a chance to attend their wonderful weddings and relish the awesome food.

Iris was so attractive. He was a 5.3 feet 70 kg human, with most weight concentrated in his stomach and cheek region. Every child is fascinated by him. He would stand out in any crowd, literally. He hated crowded places, which was one of the reasons as to why he didn’t travel by local transport owing to which he was jobless since 3 years. He however used to manage money from somewhere to pay the house rent and survive. I have never seen him sitting idle though, he was much busier than a working man.

Meet Iris.

He used to get up at 7.30am sharp. He would warm the water in the microwave , transfer it to his cup , insert a tea bag into it and see every particle dissolving into the water very carefully and then begun hissing i.e sipping. The hissing sound was so loud that my day,since 3 years commenced from this sound. I would try to cover my ears with pillows when he would sing ,

“Dil se nikle paathar , daane …kahaan chale gaye koi na jaane.
Jo dhund laye unhe wohi insaan kehlaayeeeeee…….ee..ee…
Chuhe unhe dhundkaar laaye yeh koi na mane isliye
unjaise kaale kaale hain yeh rahein ”….

I never intended learning these lyrics. I came to know that I’d learn’t it when I unknowingly heard a similar tune in my office and began singing this song.

After listening Iris sing this song, I used to forcibly get up only to feel the wet floor. Iris seldom came out of the bathroom and soaked his legs by walking around in house. Iris always used to enter the kitchen with the view of cooking and never end up doing anything apart from making a lot of noise. Then he used to call up someone everyday and gossip about different issues like, “I think the cat in my building is a bisexual”.

I would think I have woken up to discover that I've died if I didn't encounter this daily dose. I had become so used to it.

In this post I’m describing that one day when I’d thought I was dead.

It was the 2^nd of March, I had by now become conditional to the time of this hissing sound. I woke up sharp at 7.53 but there was no hissing sound being heard. I rubbed my ears for a minute but even the god-forsaken song wasn’t being heard. I rested my foot on the floor to get up and the floor too wasn’t wet. I didn’t take a second to think , Iris is dead. To reach the hall we had to pass by the kitchen and what I saw in the kitchen skipped a heartbeat… YES, I saw an omelette. I rushed into the hall and what I saw next is noted down in history. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Iris was sitting on the dining table and eating the omelette instead of gossiping. Now, I thought, I was dead. I looked at my refection on the granite edge of our kitchen, it was very much looking like me.

Iris must have sensed my fidget that he turned around . He glared at me silently as I walked towards the dining table. I had never had such a steady and a long eye contact with anyone ever to an extent that I didn’t realize as to when the stare converted into a ‘who will blink first’ type competition or so it seems.

After a few minutes I realized that Iris could go on the whole day but I have to reach office on time.

Breaking the silence, I said, “Iris, are you fine?’’

Iris simply smiled and nodded his head

I said, “I’m talking to you… hello… why were you staring at me?’’

Iris opened his mouth to say something , that raised my hopes of being in a normal atmosphere which shattered in the next few seconds when he shut his mouth immediately.

“Iris?’’

Not looking at me Iris said, “I was staring at you because you were staring at me.”

“Iris… look.. aa.. umm… are you fine? Look there’s nothing to worry about , you’ll get a job soon… if you need money or anything else, I’ll help you out.”

This time Iris smiled again and said nothing.

Reaching the peak of my curiosity I said, “When you say nothing at all is when something goes terribly wrong.”

Iris smiled again.

I said, “The last time you went silent was when later that evening, a drunk cop was trying to jump off our balcony, singing 'Maar Daala' song and you were clicking his pictures.”

Iris finally broke his silence and said, “I wasn’t clicking pictures but taping him. You never get your facts straight.”

“If stating the facts wrongly is the only way to break your silence then why not?”

“Relax, I’m practicing for a very important transformation in my life and I’m not disclosing the details.”

"Cool, as far as we don't have an incident on the lines of the previous one, I'm fine".

Iris had finished eating the omelette by the end of our conversation. As I still stared at him he carried all the utensils to the basin and washed them on his own. Without wasting anymore time I got ready to go to office. When I was tying the lace of my shoes, Iris was sitting in the same place since an hour. This was like those gentle winds which blow before the hurricane.
I prayed to God to make everything alright by the end and left the house.

Throughout my train journey, I thought,I had forgotten something . I kept checking my pockets and bag again and again to reassure if I am carrying everything. Yes, I was. On analyzing that feeling furthermore, I realized, it wasn't the feeling of having forgotten something but missing something. I was missing the song and the gossip session more than anything else. I was restless all the while. I checked Iris' FB and twitter updates to know about what must have led to this sudden change. But there were no leads. All the while I waited to see the clock read 5.30 pm and when it did I ran out of the office the way I did when my mothers best friends wanted to kiss on my cheeks in childhood.

I rang the bell almost 25 times but Iris did not open the door. I thought this time a cop must have definitely jumped off along with Iris. I opened the door with my house keys only to see blood stains on the foor. It was as if someone stained in blood was dragged towards the bedroom. I pictured Iris' dead body with his green favourite Ganji and gathered guts to move towards the bedroom. It was then that I realized that someone was dragged out of the house and not the other way round.

More than being scared I was confused. I didn't know if Iris had dragged someone out or he was dragged by someone. I immediately called up the police. Their team reached in half an hour. They looked around at the mess in the house and said, "It seems a lot of struggle has happened here before whatever must happened".

I said, "Sir, the house is usually worse than this, today it is a bit better because my roomie was in a a..aa... aa.. vaguely better mood. Two bachelor's sir..."

"So where is your roomie?"

"I don't know Sir. His phone is switched off and he is usually home at this time, in fact I have come home much earlier today."

"Anyway, we've informed his family members as we need to know where he is, said the policeman.

While taking the blood samples into the test tube lookalike one of their officers said, "this doesn't look like blood... this is something else I think."

I spontaneously said, "Then it definitely is my roommates' ", only to realize later that I shouldn't have said that.

I hadn't finished cursing myself when I received a call from a local landline number. I picked up the call and heard a shivering voice trying to say something that couldn't be heard due to network issues.

I stepped in the balcony for better receptivity and the shivering voice said,"Hello Subu, this is...

I said, "Iris.... Iris you are alive... where are you?"

Iris cut my sentence and said, "Subu I'm in a terrible uncalled for mess... I'm at Oshivara police station."

"Police station? huh? Did they catch you with the body?"

"What body? Just come here Subu"

On reaching the police station I saw a giant red stuffed potato on a wooden bench. As I went closer to that giant potato I noticed some human features, beginning from body hair, face etc. At a one feet distance a chill went down my spine as I screamt, " IRIS....... Who did this to you?"

He looked up at me, dropped his jaw and said, "I".

I took a minute pause and thought of what I should think and said, "WHY?"

"The children's street festival event organizers needed a 'laughing buddha' and were ready to pay a good sum of Rs 10000 for 1 day which I go,t but I don't have them with me anymore."

On hearing that I could just think of one word, "Why?"

"When I was counting the money in a creepy lane and thief snatched all the money and ran away. The thief broke out into a housing society however none of the society members paid attention to catch him instead kept looking at me. The thief then got into a house and jumped off its window and I was hardly 15 steps away from him when ..."

" A lady who got all scared of his fancy red appearance when he barged into her house ,jumped off her balcony and hurt herself and an old man." countered the policeman.

" For God's sake ,she stayed on the ground floor and just before she jumped off her balcony,a rat was nearing her foot. You can't blame me without confirming from the obese lady if it was the rat or me?", protested Iris

To know the correct chronology of the events I asked ,"So Iris was 15 steps away from the balcony and had just entered the obese lady's home when she and an old man jumped off together. Right?''

Iris said, "No, the obese lady jumped off and crumbled upon an old uncle who was passing by her window. Moreover, how can she be scared of me? She was double my size, she would've easily taken me."

I asked the policeman, "Well in that case, is the old man alive?"

"The old man is in his last moments according to the doctor and the lady is still unconscious. If the man dies off , I'm afraid, Mr. Iris will be charged of...."

Iris interrupted,"No! I did not kill anybody... I can't kill anybody.... I'm telling you it was the rat, please speak to the lady. I can't believe this has happened to me.... firstly my Rs.10000 are stolen, if it wasn't for this lady I too would've jumped off the window behind the thief and got my money. Gosh.. I hate rats!"

The lady came back to her senses at 2.00 am. The police reached her place in half an hour to ask her if it was Iris or the rat. Without thinking for a single moment she said,"That obese man clashed against my flower pot, which broke down and a rat which I was trying to trace since months ran out of the pot towards my leg ...and.. a.. a. I got scared and jumped off the window. I fainted when the rat too jumped off through a small hole in my balcony and slid through my curvaceous body to reach the ground."

In a couple of hours after this statement was noted an unexpected news came along. The policeman said, "The old uncle is out of danger... he is absolutely fine."

No sooner did the 'what a relief' feeling sank in than a strange voice with a familiar pitch was heard saying, "Iris... ohh my son.... Iris...your alive.... I was so worried. What are you doing here."

"Mom it is a long story."

Iris whispered in my ear saying, "Why is she asking me if I'm alive?"

I said, "It is a long story."

His mom looked at him from head to toe and said, "You told me you are working as a nurse in a renowned hospital.... why are you in this get up then?"

Iris looked at me with- 'a shut your mouth now' type expression and said, "We had a fancy dress competition in our hospital today, I was the Laughing Buddha. Lets go home now, I'm very tired".

We reached home at around 5 am and decided to take a quick nap.

This time when I woke up at 7.53, yes it was a conditional action but this time I heard the hissing sound and the song ofcourse. It was double its original audibility, the floor was 2 times more wet than it usually used to be. Had to be, as Iris' mother too was present this morning.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

On a rainy day

noreply@blogger.com (Shweta Dabholkar) — Sun, 30 Jun 2013 18:29:00 +0000

On a rainy day, I heard the sound of rain drops but when I looked out of the window the sky was clear and sunny. I wondered for a while as to why did I think it is a rainy day when it is clearly not. I deviated my thoughts to ‘the big’ moment of my life. All those chairs were occupied, the mike was set , looking at their notebooks and pens I heard my name being announced , thinking of how far I have come I began walking up, towards the stage. I could see all producers and creative directors of the Indian television industry, anxiously waiting to hear me speak about how they did it all wrong.

As I began transferring my thoughts into speech a strange noise overlapped my voice and I realized that no one could hear a word of what I spoke (not even me). No one could hear the dialogues but just the quirky background music…. I didn’t know what was happening . The sound was so irritating that I immediately closed my eyes and covered my ears with my hands. With the sound becoming intense and louder with every passing second, I forcefully opened my eyes only to realize that it was all a dream .

Everything around me had changed apart from two details – The sound of torrential rains and the irritating sound that made my dream mute. I looked around and traced my phone flashing under my bedsheet and then all the loose ends connected. I could see the mobile flashing but had to turn the whole bedsheet upside down to reach it. It read ‘ Messy calling…’ .

Mishti A.K.A Messy is my best friend.
Best friends are the only successful choices that we don’t intend making and after a few years we rest our failures on the premise -‘Unplanned and natural is the only way to a happy life’, when deep within we know that the statement makes no sense. I met Mishti at a bar, to be precise outside the bar. How we met and became the best of friends is a tale.

I picked up the phone and said, “It is 8.00 am and I would proceed with this telephonic conversation only if you are dying.”

There was a long pause which made me suspect some network problem, owing to which I entered my terrace and got all wet in the rain…. Yes, this time I not only saw it raining, but felt it. I rushed back into my bedroom and couldn’t believe the words I heard- “I’m getting married in the next 5 hours”.

Everything went quiet around me until I heard my own voice say, “Are you pregnant ?”

“This is exactly why I didn’t tell you anything Kriti. Please stop your imagination, get ready and come to pick me up in exact 20 minutes. I’ll wait for you at the ‘Mewadwala's ice-cream car', I’ll tell you everything then.”

“If you are getting married at 1pm then why did you call me at 8am? Can’t we leave by 12?”

“NO, there are a lot of things to do ...''

“Please define those ‘lot –of-things’ and be precise”

“I’m getting married and I can’t be more precise…. Meet me in an hour . Bye!”

Messy had cut the phone but I kept thinking about ‘the lot of things’ when my phone rang again. This time it was a message from Messy, it read –‘Stop thinking. You have 20 minutes to get ready”.

The last thing on my mind was to step out in this rain. Ohh How I hated rains.

I hurried with every single activity.I did everything else apart from bathing and breakfast. I opened my closet and a huge pile of clothes fell off all over me when I realized that I shouldn’t be the centre of attraction wearing jeans and some silly top that read ‘I’m what I’m’ as everyone else will be wearing a sari or Patiala. I quickly selected my flashy red Patiala wore the matching jewellery , put on some basic make up and left my place. When you need something the most you never find it, I couldn’t find an umbrella and I was running out of time. I stepped outside my house and saw Asian Paints workers painting the passage wall. Their umbrellas were lying around in the passage . I walked very confidently and picked up one of their umbrellas. My day had begun with stealing a painter’s umbrella and I prayed to God to not have Mishti make me dance around the city in this outfit. For a second I had an image of a lady wearing flashy red clothes moving around the city with an asian paints umbrella.

Life didn’t surprise me,it was raining cats and dogs and I couldn’t spot a single empty ‘Rickshaw’. After 15 minutes I finally found one. As I was nearing the Mewaadwala, I saw the image of a girl wearing polka-dotted half pants and a black sleevless top covered with loose hair, becoming larger with every step towards her. Yes, it was Messy.

“I thought you were getting married? So it was all a lie?”

“It was a half-lie?”

“So what was true and what was not of what you said.”

“I would have never got married if you had not come today?”

“I'm in no mood of playing match the column. Who is the boy? Your dating pattern is damn confusing. The last person I knew of, was Vicky.”

“Not he…. I broke up with him 6 months ago”.

“But last month you’d told me that you went on a date with him.”

“Yes, we had just met as I was going through a bad phase with Gurmeet.”

“You dated Gurmeet , I’d thought it was your rule no. 5, No dating best friends’ ex?”

“Shamita is just a friend , you are my best friend.”

“When did you wipe off the prefix?”

“When I decided to date Gurmeet.”

“So you are getting married to Gurmeet ?”

“No…. Jairaj”.

“What , who is Jairaj?”

“I met Jairaj 20 days ago and he is a great guy. I have never been in so much love ever before.”

“That is what you tell me up to the 20^th day of your every relationship and then begun abusing the boy. ...This is the doom day the 20th day....Do you want to get married on the doom day. Think about it. History says,tomorrow you might not want to.”

“He is a Gujju Businessman.”

“Okay then…. Right Catch”.

"I told Shesta about it 10 days ago. She asked me to mail our horoscopes to her. I mailed it to her the next day. A week ago she replied saying, he is going to get married on the 1st of this month, but I won't….. So if it is not me he will be getting married to someone else. I even spied on him for 2 days, he doesn't even look at any other girl. Hence, to avoid any mishap I've decided to get married to him today. I shall inform everyone after the marriage.”

"Messy so you are actually trying to prove Shesta wrong? Is it? If she is proven wrong by her most dedicated disciple ideally that dedicated disciple should not be consulting her again?"

"I don't know."

Stumped at her stupidity I said, “Ohh please stop following that psycho horoscope lady, she has done no good to your life. She told you to leave your dream job…”

“And at my next job , no matter how demeaning it is ….I met Jairaj. Rickshawala yahan se right lena….”

“Where are we going?”

“To the temple. ”

“Have you informed Jairaj?”

“Yes. He didn't question me once…. He will be coming to the temple with his 3 friends.”

“Love is indeed blind”.

“See , I told you he loves me.”

“Can’t you just apply some common sense and think. If he loves you so much and if you know he isn’t cheating on you ….. how the hell will he get married to someone else?”

“That question is responsible for my de-glamorous look on my wedding day. I had 20 minutes but all I did was thinking….By the way, Shesta has told me to get married by 11.30 am”

Now that I was convinced about the marriage I thought of its requirements“We need a pandit and a Lawyer.”

“Pandit will be there in the temple and thanks to 'Justdial' for the Lawyer, Mr. Dubey. I contacted him a week ago and told him to get all the paperwork done ,see I have got all my documents in here.”

“Great … so …aa…”

“Kriti, Jairaj will be buying the mangalsutra but we need to buy garlands and sindoor”.

“That is fine we’ll buy it on our way.’’

We got down at a flower shop on the way. Messy opened the Asian paints Umbrellla as rains hadn’t stopped by then. She told the lady, “ Please pack these 2 garlands fast.”

Looking at my flashy dress the lady looked at me , smiled and said, “Marriage?”

I too smiled and said, “Yes.”

The lady looked at Messy and said, “Why are you selecting the garlands , let her select?’’

Messy was about to hit the lady with the same garlands when I quickly paid the money and dragged Messy away into the Ricksha.

We reached the temple at 10.45. Messy wanted to sign the papers first i.e before 11.30 and then intended performing other traditional Hindu rituals. Jairaj hadn’t come yet. While Messy was over the phone yelling at Jairaj and the lawyer for being late I took the initiative to arrange the requirements for the traditional style wedding.

“Kriti it’s 11.15 and Jairaj isn’t come yet …. Now his phone is also unavailable. I think he is getting married to someone else.”

“How do you expect the network to function normally in these sort of rains and Jairaj to not meet any traffic or water logging .”

“I don’t care, I want the signatures done before 11.30”.

No sooner did she say that and we saw Jairaj with his 3 friends climbing the temple staircase fully drenched in rain. They hugged each other and pleasantries were exchanged between all of us. However, Mr. Dubey was nowhere in the scene. Messy kept on calling him.

Listening to Mr. Dubey's -'I'm the best', dial tone, Messy said, “I think he has ditched us, I don’t know what to do now..."

Messy was about to cut the phone, irritated at the dial tone when Dubeyji answered the call.

In complete agitation Messy said, “Dubeyji only two minutes are left…. Where are you?’

“I’m climbing the staircase of the temple. I was late because of these heavy rains and …If only you'd not chosen a temple with such a time consuming staircase, I would have been there by now.’’

“ Dubeyji I’ll ask my boyfriend to build a temple without a staircase for you but please run faster, I am standing with my best friend and my boyfriend and his 3 friends, as soon as you reach here first get the signatures done before asking anything else….. anything else. This is a very crucial moment , you will just have few seconds. So quickly get the papers ready while your climbing, my boyfriend will pay you double the original amount.”

Dubeyji climbing the staircase was like watching a potato being thrown towards the temple. He ran along the staircase with a file in his hand. On reaching, Jairaj greeted him saying, "Hello, I'm Jairaj", however, Dubeyji didn't shake hands with him. He quickly glanced at everybody.

He opened the file and asked everybody to sign on the papers. It all happened in such a hush-hush that everyone did as Dubeyji had said without uttering a word. Once the signatures were done, Messy breathed a sigh of relief, hugged Dubeji and said , Thank You. .

Dubeyji asked for water. She offered him her pink water bottle and then went on to hug Jairaj. Dubeyji wiped of his face with his wet handkerchief that made no difference to his face what so ever and said, “ I did it … on time”.

But what happened next was something that ignited fireworks in the rain.

Dubeyji congratulated Jairaj and then turned towards me and congratulated me as well.

Shaking my hands involuntarily with Dubeji I looked at Messy. I could guess looking at her face that she was definitely thinking what I was thinking.

With tears waiting to fall off her eyes she asked Dubeyji, “Did you think she is the bride and took her signatures in the respective column?’’

Dubeyji looked at everyone of us for around 1 second each and then looked at Messy , smiled and said, “YES, she is the bride”.

Messy screamt so loudly that the temple bell shivered . I didn’t know if I should have been consoling myself or Messy. I froze to death. Messy was rolling on the floor and crying. Dubeyji didn’t understand anything. I so wished this to be a dream.

Messy quickly got up to call Shesta. She said, “Jairaj accidently got married to my best friend in front of my own eyes….. now what do I do?”

Shesta said, “Ask the lawyer.”

Dubeyji said, “There’s nothing much to worry about…. This matter can be fixed in a few court rituals”.

I’d decided to write about this incident once the matter was resolved. Yes I’m single now and according to the court I was never ever married to Jairaj. The rainy day was the 20^th day of Messy’s relationship . For now Messy is back with Vicky and she says, “He is a great guy. I have never been in so much love ever before.”

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

Epic Encounter

noreply@blogger.com (Shweta Dabholkar) — Tue, 18 Jun 2013 14:03:00 +0000

With a bag of vegetables in one hand, an umbrella in the other, lashing rains on my brain, not only did I think my life couldn't get more chaotic but I wondered as to why I am moving around with my cell phone stuck between my chin and neck, instead of putting it in the bag. I entered into the parking area which had a roof , released my phone to fall onto the bonnet surface of the car. Now keeping the umbrella hand between my neck and shoulder , I placed the bag at a lower angle such that the phone might slide to exactly enter the bag.

Yes, you guessed it right, all my geometry went wrong and the phone fell down into the puddle. Spontaneously, I kept the vegetable bag on the floor (which I didn't want to wet by placing on the floor) and the umbrella too fell off leaving a scar on my cheek when all my senses ran down to get the cell-phone. No one could help it…. It was dead.

No, it wasn't this mishap that was bothering me but it’s effect that generated – ‘I have made all the wrong choices in my life’ type, rain of thoughts. I had just reached the peak of self-evaluation process –‘Why do I exist?’, and was about to reach the conclusion of the same when I bumped into Athena in the lobby of my wing.

I’m someone who’d first look at a person’s attire before anything else; actually given a choice I’d only look at that but it was always the other way round with Athena. She always moved around with her own world of imagination and fantasy. Whatever she spoke, she spoke with irreplaceable amount of conviction.

Once Nitin’s cat had killed her Rabit… according to her, eaten it. When Nitin refused to let go off his cat ,she came up with the most creative stories, I've heard . The first story was - Once the cat sat through the entire ‘Bhoot’ movie and since then she’d started behaving weird. She convinced Nitin’s parents and everybody that a ghost resides in the cat. Everybody believed her apart from me, her mother and Nitin of course. It was two months later that the cat was sent away. Since then cats had a special place in her heart.

She had always liked only one coconut tree in our building, she had named it –‘Mango’…. Due to some construction issues, it was decided to cut down this tree…. She told everyone that the tree speaks and it had told her that if it is cut down someone from the ‘J’ wing would die and an ailing great grandmother of someone really died. Since that day people stood beneath the tree for hours asking questions but there were no answers. Many a times Athena was asked to help but she always said that the tree just spoke once. Most people appreciated her intelligence to protect the tree, while some even after 13 years, stand beneath the tree, asking questions and take it as a yes if a leaf /flower falls and vice versa. I can go on and on describing her character but for now…..

She was standing like a statue in the lobby, reading some paper. Having known Athena since 18 years I knew the page was either a page of some novel and she was trying to figure out the novel to which it belonged, in fact she must have also dreamt of uniting it with it's parent, I can bet my life on that OR it was a piece written by herself and she was thinking of ways to make it better.

Thinking about a dominant possibility, I stood in front of her for about 2 minutes until I was distracted by the unusual smell like that of a mixed fart of 3-5 species. I turned to my left and saw , ‘Emu aunty’ (she looked like an emu) .

Ignoring the smell and suspicion(if it was her or her dog)I said, “Hello…e…e.. aa… a.. aunty!” (I thanked my sensory organs for not saying EMU)

She said, “First it is Athena who is standing here in the same position since the time I've got Bummy (her dog) down for a walk and then it is you… and you two just refuse to get distracted?

I said, “I've just got distracted.’’

She said, “Ohh.. I guess you both were up to something very important , sorry for the sound disturbance”

I said, “There was a sound … huh? I wish if it was only that”.

She smiled and said, “My Bummy is very naughty’’

She got into the lift and pressed 5^th floor button. All this while, Athena stood like a stubborn ice who suddenly began melting as the lift ceased to go up.

Athena put her paper down, in her right hand and said, “It was her”.

I said, “You heard all that?’’

“And more”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

Athena took a pause and said, “Because she thinks it is her sacred duty to wash her toilet windows everyday only when I choose to answer the nature’s call”.

“Huh? What is it that you were reading?”

“It is a complaint letter to our society?’’

‘’Common Athena, a complaint letter isn't your style and she won’t change at all, in spite of that’’.

“I’m modifying my style a bit because I’m no more 5 years old and I’m too busy writing for HBZ, moreover someone who doesn't change after seeing all kinds of wastes and garbage on her car …obvio…”

“What? You threw all the waste out of your window?’’

‘’Ofcourse not, I only aim it at her car which fortunately stands right below my window”

“Hasn’t anyone seen you doing that? Doesn’t she know?’’

Opening the letter again Athena said, “I take precautions. However , when she was investigating the matter she’d questioned me the way she had questioned everyone else and I’d said that someone from above ….”

Disgusted at hearing that I said, “Do you realize, I stay above you?’’

“And there’s a terrace above you, anyone can get in there and throw waste just the way I did when I had to attack the larger circumference of her car”.

“Athena, one day I want to have a nice conversation with you and ask you, why are you the way you are? For now please tell me what were you doing with that complaint letter?”

“Evaluating, proof reading …. Not that I doubt the incurious nature of our building inhabitants who did not notice a serious issue of concern that this letter highlights and... they might not take it seriously … if you know what I mean….”

“NO!”

Hesitatingly Athena said, “My mom told me that she is convinced that I have gone mad to write this letter and thus become a subject of fun and stupidity in the annual general body meeting.”

Confused over all her words I simply said, “I think I should read the letter …. Can I?”

“Yes of course”

Athena Graham

7B, Eastwood society.

The Managing Committee,

Eastwood society.

Subject: Would like to draw your attention at the life-threatening problems caused by the presence of a giant cat in our building.

Dear Members,

I’d first like to advise everybody to kindly undergo a checkup of their sensory organs, because if it were functioning properly I would've not been the first one to write this letter. Anyway, I’d like to bring a grave issue of concern to your notice (that should be taken seriously by any sane person); the presence of a giant cat in our building has made my life very difficult since a couple of months. This giant cat considers : screaming at odd hours of the day( actually I wouldn't be exaggerating if I’d say 24*7) its principal occupation. It cries, laughs, screams, sings or whatever it is .. is extremely irritating , painful, depressing to hear a cat scream whole day. Even our watchmen are scared of it. It does not fear anyone... I don’t hate animals but I sincerely feel that if anyone likes animals, they should take them home and make sure that no inconvenience is caused to any human around. My headache has reached its peak while that giant cat continues to scream and while... I write this letter. I request you to kindly look into the matter and get the cat out of the building by whichever means as soon as possible;before anyone's ears become immune to her screams and cries. I hope; the same ghost hasn't come back into this giant cat and.... I hope we don’t bestow a situation that upon the talking tree that compels it to break its 13 year long silence.

P.S : I am not threatening anyone.

Yours sincerely,
Athena Graham

Appreciating Athena’s decisiveness and smiling from within at her modified intelligence I said, “This letter is indescribable”.

She said,“I so needed this kick to stick to my decision … thank you… Advi…”

There came a roaring noise, “Advityaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa….a….a..”

“Ohh No… that must be my mom … she needed these vegetables for today’s lunch…Bye Athena .. I must go. Uff … forget the lift, by the time it comes down I’ll reach…”

Running towards the staircase I told Athena, “One smile makes a huge difference , hence your letter is going to make a real huge difference”.

“What… what are you talking?’’

“Nothing , indescribable is the word … go and drop the letter in the letter box”.

I ran upstairs and Athena ran towards the drop box.On my way back home on the staircase I thought, “Irrespective of the outcome, decisions which one believes strongly in , lead to, if not happiness , then satisfaction. Every happy person isn't satisfied but every satisfied person is happy”.

Again came the roar, “ ADVITYAAAAAAAAAAA……” This time it was louder and it came to a halt abruptly as I stood before her…

“I’m here and the vegetables are here.”

Picking up her bag and wearing her shoes she said, ‘’I’m late to office because of you…. Your phone was also switched off… cook yourself or order food and... pay yourself”.

The doorbell just rang… It must be ‘Pritamwala’ with my Pav bhaji parcel.

“Yes I am not liking the fact that I've spent Rs.100 from my own pocket but I’m satisfied because if I would've not decided on staying downstairs , I would've never written down this epic encounter .”

P.S: I now head to fix up my phone.

Be Bold Stay Real

noreply@blogger.com (Shweta Dabholkar) — Sat, 15 Jun 2013 15:22:00 +0000

If ever in life, your self confidence has been shattered in a fraction of a second OR you have questioned the purpose of your existence OR you’ve lost all the hope in life, then…. you are ‘the chosen one’!(Brownie points for all those who thought, this paragraph made no sense. ) You are the chosen one to read this article.

There’s a lot of back biting, stealing of ideas, favoritism happening at a lot of places while you read this article. We all have been victims of the same at least once in life, which later, becomes a stepping stone to your success only when you tackle it wisely; for which you need to be bold and stay real. Whichever way you go- with the flow or against it, retain your identity because it would be only then that you’d cherish the entire journey.

Wickedness, diplomacy, betrayal are the grim realities of life. There’s no person who hasn’t encountered any but it is only the bold who’ve survived through it. There’s politics everywhere. People measure their success by scrutinizing the progress of their subordinates in the name of competition.

Being ‘bold’ is not being rebellious, blunt, outspoken in the eye of – ‘This is me, I’m what I’m’ - which is a classic reason to justify why things didn’t turn out your way. “I’m honest and there’s no place for people like me in this world… so be it.” – Only an incapable person speaks like this and he/she cannot be called bold.

Imagine a script you’ve worked on for weeks is suddenly given to someone else to shoot.
One might simply tell the team leader, “This isn’t fair…. You can’t do this to me?”
Another person might say, “I will lodge a complaint against you, I’ll make sure this episode isn’t shot”.
While the other, might just go home and cry and blame it all on destiny. If this is your real self… you are definitely not happy being real and if you aren’t happy , you aren’t real.. You first need to understand if it is deliberately done to put you down or it is because of some other genuine reason. Think, will taking this shit explore more opportunities or it is going to get worse? If it is the latter, stand up for yourself because being bold is tackling a situation intelligently, not speaking too much but speaking wise. Be BOLD..

You cannot speak to a German person in Spanish, he/she won’t understand anything, hence speak in the language which people understand. Give them a taste of their medicine. Modify yourself, do not change. It is only an insecure person who yells, the wise ones don’t need to. NOTE…Sometimes stepping away from the situation is the wise solution, and one should be bold enough to do that too. .

Before being bold be real because not every bold person is real but every real person is bold. A painter can always create a duplicate of his work but it can never match the fineness of the prior. We are always best when we’re natural and spontaneous, in other words – when we’re ‘real’. We never face any conflict within and a clear conscience is the asset of satisfaction It is extremely important to be real; retain your own identity to be happy. Also, when you are real you believe in yourself. Hence, when you believe in the advertising concept or a business plan you might pitch for , it is quite easy to make other’s believe in it .

Irrespective of the decision of the majority you are always satisfied when you do what you believe. . Not every happy person is satisfied but every satisfied person is happy.
So, stay real.

They say, “When the going gets tough, the tough get going”. You actually have no other choice as the only way to move ahead is being tough.

Yes tough people are bold and real but only in situations that demand them to be. So, analyze the situation and ‘Be Bold and Stay Real’ to make it a stepping stone to your success.

I am writing on Be Bold Stay Real at BlogAdda

HR Menace.

noreply@blogger.com (Shweta Dabholkar) — Sat, 01 Jun 2013 13:56:00 +0000

What does an HR person do?

Since the inception of the realization –‘Now I have to enter the real world’ ,which was a year ago , the above mentioned question has grown to the size of a tumor in my brain, that is not shown on a X-Ray and has deviated a lot of my veins /other vital organs up in there and has resulted in the creation of a planet. This ‘Tumor’ is a planet and is the universal homeland to all the HR people and their likes; whom I and those of you who would relate to my experiences have encountered respectively.

I’m sure a lot of you out there have had this ‘HR tumor’ planet once in their heads.
You want to get rid of it but you can’t…..unless you find a job.

No, this isn't an imaginary planet because its tremors shake you up emotionally, spiritually and physically such that you question your existence.

This planet doesn't revolve and rotate 24*7 as it is unsure of its axis. It is situational. It emerges from nowhere only when you’re seeking a job.

Trust me 'HR tumor' is such!

Here we shall talk about all the aspects of the life form that exists on this planet.

Human creation was complimented by the feeling of ‘resentment’. Adam and Eve were the first ones to experience this feeling. A lot has been done since then to get rid of this feeling. First God sent Sadhu’s, Priests, Monks, then doctors and counselors. However with economical and scientific progress it was decided to create specialized species that were trained to murder 'resentment'. This time God did it all wrong.

A lot of these species didn't practise what they were taught and became the sole reason behind ‘Human Resentment’ (HR). While some of the species did the ‘Human Resource’ part (for which they were created) , the others took asylum in this planet called- ‘HR Tumor’.

An HR person is supposed to identify a talent and make sure it gets its due.

Now-A-Days you don’t even end up talking to the HR person sometimes. The conversation is restricted to the receptionist who knows no head or tails of what you want. These receptionists are told not to transfer the call to the HR by the HR themselves. Either the receptionist gives you a general email id like
jobs@xyz.com
careers@xyz.com
mail@xyz.com
opportunities@xyz.com which mustn't have been checked since ages

OR The receptionist would transfer you to some dark random extension which no one would answer as it would be specially designed for people seeking jobs. And at the end of it you would hear a “Leave your message” or the call would eventually go back to the receptionist and she would say, “XYZ isn't available now, please call after sometime. When you keep calling after every –‘after sometime’-type answer , this entire process is repeated again and again until the receptionist saves your number and disconnects your call the next time you call her.

Worst case: The receptionist says, “Tell me whom do you want me to transfer to?”
You innocently answer, “Any relevant person would do as I don’t know anyone”.
Receptionist: “Sorry we aren't allowed to transfer calls if you don’t know the concerned person”.

THIS IS IT! You need contacts, a reference a Godfather most of the times.

If at all you manage to reach the HR, they’d say , “we want experienced candidates”.
So if everyone wants experienced candidates all the fresher’s remain unemployed…. RIGHT?

How about asking them- “How did you land up in your first job DARLING? Were you born with experience?”. It is like GOD telling a couple, “Only experienced candidates are gifted with a child”.
Nice MBA schools and PG universities need experienced students, so in such a situation what does a fresher do?

These kinds of HR people might be employing their own people in the HR department as well.
They are the ones who reside on the ‘HR Tumor’ planet.

I don’t know whom to blame, the stupid receptionist, the lazy HR or the company? In my case and a few of my friends’, it’s the HR whom we always had to contact, hence the title of the post. This post is applicable to all those Human Resentments out there in the eye of different positions.

Yes, there are those nice HR people in the real world but I yet have to meet them , when I do…. I will have another post .

For all of you who've got jobs through university placement cells , Congratulations!!
I’m happy for you if you think you've deserved it. You must know, there are a lot of deserving people who aren't ready to compromise with their talent and are struggling to carve their own way into their dreamland. I’m voicing my opinion through the perspective of those individuals.

Lastly I want to conclude this post on an inspiring note-
“The ‘HR Tumor’ planet will emerge sometime in life but you don’t have to get all depressed instead keep hitting all the time. It’s only when you hit all the spots that you hit the right spot. You will meet a lot of retards but they will only make your life more biographical”.

An afternoon with Salim Khan

noreply@blogger.com (Shweta Dabholkar) — Sat, 11 May 2013 18:37:00 +0000

That girl in a white dress, who by now, must have been disowned by half of the world for asking stupid questions,went close to him and managed to take his autograph. .A strange voice within me was screaming at me since the time the workshop had ended to gather guts and walk up to him;certainly this girl inspired my move. I, someone who would never ever ask anyone for an autograph was actually overwhelmed by a man's honesty,intelligence and wit, that drove me to go running behind him, get blocked by the security, then find some other sneaky route to reach him and get the autograph.

I handed him over my flexible long book and a blue ball pen, he took it and found it difficult to hold the book without any support , struggling with the book and the pen he looked at me and said,"Beta ab ye aise mujhse likha nahi jata".

Yes I got it!!Salim Khan's Autograph.

He won't obviously remember this incident,considering the amount of experiences, encounters and episodes he's had in his life. I would be mad to expect that from the writer of 'SHOLAY'.

Let me tell you what prompted this star-struck encounter of mine.

I was at 'Whistling Woods', a renowned film school in Mumbai, to attend a 2 day free workshop festival celebrating 100 years of Indian Cinema. All I was concerned about was this screenplay workshop, I had no clue about Mr. Salim Khan coming for the workshop. I had seen him on T.V. I never knew his story, his thoughts or his idea of films. I just knew that he was the famous SALIM of the famous writer duo SALIM-JAVED, who had written blockbuster movies like Sholay and Zanjeer and is Salman Khan's father.

He began with the words- "Bachpan Main, main Cricketer banna chahta tha"

Salim Khan wanted to be a cricketer. His family had its origins in Afghanistan, they had moved to India to provide a better educational atmosphere to the younger generation of which Salim Khan was a part of. They used to stay in Indore . Education was of high importance in the Khan family. Every Sunday when the magazine supplement used to come home from the city,young Salim was always encouraged to read it and this is how and when, Salim Khan Sahab's interest in reading was nurtured. He soon became a voracious reader, he used to read the papers which were used to wrap food items/clothing/gifts etc that deep lay his curiosity.

He also tried his hand at flying. He says,"Bohot kam log jaante hain ki main trained pilot hun, I have 100 hours of flying experience".

He then decided on becoming an actor. He was spotted at a wedding and was told to come to Mumbai for screen tests. Khan appeared in such films as Teesri Manzil (1966), Sarhaadi Lootera (1966) and Diwaana(1967), in total he has acted in 25 films.

He says," Self assessment is very important to achieve success. What you think about yourself is not important, what others think about you is important. If your self assessment is right then it will surely take you on the right path. You must recognize what you are good at and then give it a shot". He soon recognized his forte;which was writing.

When he wrote down his first script, he chased Ashok Kumar to lend him 15 mins of his busy life and listen to the script. He said,"Maine ashok ji se kahan ki ek baar 15 min ke liye sun li jiye , phir aap khud kahenge ki aage sunao". Ashok Kumar did listen to his script and the film was made. In those days writers had no respect. They were paid very very less. In Salim Khan Sahab's words,"ek writer bhik mangta tha, kehta tha.... please paise de do mujhe.... ghar main bachhe hain ... parivaar hain.".

He met Javed Akhtar on the sets of Sarhaadi Lootera. Salim Khan used to assist writer/director Abrar Alvi at first and Javed Akhtar used to assist Kaifi Azmi.Abrar Alvi and Kaifi Azmi were neighbours,from there on Salim Khan and Javed Akhtar became friends and both of them ventured into script writing. Salim-Javed were the ones who carved a place of recognition and respect for the writers. They were the first ones to develop the concept of complete script; complete script is the one which contains a perfect *screenplay; that which tells the exact number of scenes the film will contain-50scenes, 75 scenes. Their first big success was the script for Seeta Aur Geeta (1972). They also had hits in Yaadon Ki Baaraat (1973), Zanjeer (1973), Deewaar (1975), Sholay (1975), Trishul (1978), Kranti (1981), Zamaana (1985) and Mr. India (1987). Salim-Javed, many a times described as "the most successful scripwriters of all-time", are also noted to be the first scriptwriters in Indian cinema to achieve star status.Never did a *screenplay mention the two words - 'The End', as the writer always assumed certain additions or modifications to occur time and again. Deewar was written in 18 days and Sholay was written in 32 days. Because Salim- Javed visualized the film clearly and then wrote down the scenes,they were very confident of what they wrote and insisted on having no changes done.

According to them many of their contemporaries as well as their seniors had written great scripts, which were modified by the then directors and producers, as a result of which the film failed at the box office destroying a great writing piece. When Salim- Javed handed over the script of Zanjeer to Yash Chopra they had told him to not to change a full stop or a comma. He says,"If we won't protect our work ,who would?''. They were so confident about their screenplay that they knew, the transference of their visualization on screen would work wonders.

He recollected a very funny incident;when Zanjeer was released, its poster contained everyone's names but Salim-Javed's. They hired a painter to imprint their names in the empty spaces on all the posters in Mumbai city. However they didn't know that this painter was a drunkard; at night the painter imprinted their names on hero/heroine's/villian's faces. This embarrassment was a blessing in disguise. The producers who approached them later said,"Salim Sahab, app logon ko posters kharab karne ki jarurat nahi padegi ... hum aapka naam bhi print karvaenge posters par."

He says,"Nothing is original. Originality is the art of conceding the source."

He quoted a very famous thinker saying,"Only a fool is original".

Every work is inspired from some source, either from our personal experiences or the kind of books and movies we come across. It depends on us how we interpret the source.

A classic example of the same is ;a film named 'Falak' was written by Salim Sahab which broke all records of failure. Mr. Subhash Ghai, told him,"Main isi script ko phirse banaunga... aur woh hit hogi" - this film was 'Ram Lakhan'(a super hit).

He describes his love for the art of writing through an incident. Salim sahab was very fond of reading, he had a collection of the best screenplays in the world and claims to have no intentions of giving it to anyone. He once stumbled upon a book named-"20 best screenplays'' at Mirza Sahab's place. He borrowed the book from Mirza Sahab with clear intentions of never returning it ; he knew it was the best screenplay book and wasn't available in any bookshop. He says," Mirza Sahab ne mujhe kuch dino baad pucha toh maine kahan main padh raha hun, phir unhone aur kuch dino baad pucha tabhihi maine kaha ki main padh raha hun.... phir kuch dinon baad woh mujhe ek film ke set par mile tab unhone daat kar kaha ki, agar tumne mujhe woh kitaab nahi di toh main police main complain karunga. Tab maine turant jakarr woh kitab unhe wapas kar di. Hali main unka dehanth hua hain aur unke funeral main mujhe pata chala ki unhone unke bachon se kahan tha ki woh kitaab Salim ko de dena. Aur aaj woh kitaab mere paas hain".

He ended the afternoon on a beautiful thought which he had read in some book - "Art is nurtured in loneliness and exhibited in public".

Miscellaneous-

screenplay- The movement of actors, their expressions, the throw of dialogue, the background set up is all described in a screenplay. For eg. Lets consider the first scene of sholay. It's screenplay would be something like this (roughly) Veeru and Jai are sitting down hand cuffed in a moving train.Jay is sleeping and the inspector is sitting on the seat.. Veeru looks at inspector and questions him.

Bombay Talkies Review.

noreply@blogger.com (Shweta Dabholkar) — Fri, 03 May 2013 20:14:00 +0000

Review of 'Bombay Talkies', an Indian Film.

I got an opportunity to watch 'Bombay talkies' on the day of its release, celebrating the end of my Literature exams. I have loved the film so much that I am dedicating a space in my blog for it.

Bombay Talkies is a combination of 4 short films, 30 minutes each, directed by 4 directors of different genres. It celebrates the 100 years of Indian Cinema which began its journey on the 3rd of May, also the film release date of Bombay Talkies.

This film claims to celebrate 100 years of cinema, however it shows the least signs of the same. These are 4 short films, brainchild of the respective directors. However, you can say that these 4 short films mark the beginning of a new age Indian cinema where directors would experiment with different topics, just as these 4 have, in Bombay Talkies.

The movie begins with the end credits and unlike most other movies, sufficient time has been given to read the name in each department, thus stating the importance of the crew in the making of a film.

'Bombay Talkies' opens with Karan Johar's movie which revolves around the challenges a homosexual man encounters, in India, today. The plot is too dramatic and becomes predictable after 10 mins.The movie begins with a dream sequence where the protagonist hits his father in rage, for not understanding him, telling him that he is a homosexual and not a eunuch.This boy is disowned by his family after he voices his sexual orientation; he lives by himself.On the other hand Rani Mukherjee and Randip Hooda (couple) are shown sleeping on the either sides of the same bed. Rani Mukherjee is the entertainment head of a Newspaper and the gay protagonist is an intern in her office. Randip Hooda is a newsreader in a prominent news channel. No intern in his right frame of mind would initiate a conversation with his boss the way this protagonist does. Rani Mukherjee and the protagonist become great friends in due course of time, such that Rani Mukherjee invites him over for dinner at her place,when the protagonist falls for Rani Mukherjee's husband and also initiates intimacy.The protagonist pays a couple of private surprise visits to Randip Hooda, thus making him feel special. Randip Hooda refuses this attention in the beginning to such an extent that he hits the male protagonist brutally, when he expresses his feeling towards Randip Hooda.However, later on Randip Hooda realizes his mistake and visits the protagonists place where his self control breaks down and he ends up kissing the protagonist. (In this scene you hear a 'WHY?' sound from the audiences) Rani Mukherjee leaves her husband after knowing the bitter truth of her husband's sexual orientation. She now feels relieved, when she knows, that the reason for the distance in their relationship wasn't her (she had always thought) but her husband, who had lied to her for so many years. This entire plot moves with the old Hindi song- "Lagja Gale" in the background which makes Karan Johar's movie even more dramatic. Karan Johar has stepped outside his comfort zone and changed the existing views about him in the audiences mind with this film. From school students who drove super bikes ,speedy cars and wore bikinis to something as realistic as this, Karan Johar has leaped light years and proven that he too can make experimental and realistic cinema.The dialogues of this movie are gripping. Karan Johar is a trend setter. I wouldn't be surprized if people go around asking, "Are you a Sridevi or a Madhuri fan?''

The second movie is Dibakar Banerjee's. His plot revolves around a lower class Maharashtrian man, portrayed by Nawazuddin Siddiqui who only accentuates the plot. Right from the beginning of this film one keeps guessing the plot, because Dibakar Banerjee provides extreme finer details be it the surrounding locality of Nawaaz's house, the relationship with his daughter or the presence of a giant pet bird. Banerjee has worked on finer details with remarkable precision and yet at the same time maintained naturalness. Nawaz was a part of theatre at the age of 23-24 until his father became unemployed after the shutting down of mills in Mumbai. He is not a risk taker, hence quits his passion to secure a job and lead a stress free life.His daughter is shown to suffer from some physical condition.The highlight of this movie is the silent scene where Nawaaz makes faces to get a smile on his daughter's face. His daughter doesn't smile then and complains of him telling her no new stories. On the day of his job interview, for a watchman's post he gets late and heads back home congratulating the man who had been appointed in his place.On his way back home, he gets an opportunity to act in a minor scene of a big budget Bollywood film. Nawaaz puts his heart into preparing himself for the role, until he opens the paper and reads the dialogue he was supposed to say;just one word -"Aye" and becomes disappointed when his illusions overpower his consciousness and he sees his Theatre mentor who tells him- it is because he always wanted to play safe that he is nowhere today. He tells him to understand the context of the dialogue and the different ways in which it can be said. If you have a dream and a strong desire to fulfill it then you should be ready to do the smallest work that would take you there.. The dialogues and setting of this particular scene are extremely detailed, be it an extreme long shot of Nawaaz practicing on one end and the dress-man sleeping on the other or his mentor standing in a dustbin.When the crew member asks him to wait and collect his per day amount, Nawaaz runs home to his daughter, to tell her the happenings of the entire day in the eye of a new story, which eventually makes his daughter smile. A detailed movie is often quite boring however Banerjee demonstrates the statement- 'God lies in details'. One focuses on several details at the same time and is hence, totally engrossed in the movie.One would watch Bombay talkies again for this movie.

After the interval we see Zoya Akhtar's movie. Zoya has redifined simplicity and innocence. Her story revolves around a school boy who has no interest in a mans play, i.e playing football or any such masculinity. He is shown to have female traits. He likes to dress up like girls. He is shown to have been lost in meeting his father's ambitions for him, until he watches Katrina Kaif dancing to the tunes of 'Sheila ki Jawaani', when he recognizes his area of interest i.e Dancing. His father opposes his passion for dancing and asks him to play football; which defines strength and masculinity. Brother-sister relationship scenes lift the screenplay . On seeing him dressed up in a girls attire and wearing his mothers makeup, the agitated father slaps him hard and tells him to behave like a boy. The same night the boy watches Katrina Kaif's interview where she says, ''To follow your dreams you first have to protect them from people who oppose them , hence hiding your true passions from those who oppose them is one mantra to live your dreams". He imagines Katrina Kaif as a fairy who comes out of the television screen to convey this message. This entire scene has been shot from the point of view of a 5 year old's psyche and works wonders. The boy, then begins worshiping Katrina. Several scenes make you laugh. On a whole, one feels a part of the movie and lives that innocence for 30 minutes. It's only after the movie gets over that you realize, smile didn't skip a nano second in the past 30 minutes.

All the chaos was saved for the last. I leave it up to you to decide if it was the best saved for the last.Yes, the word chaos is closely knit with Anurag Kashyap's cinematic intelligence. His movie is not about an Amitabh Bachan fan. In the beginning you might not like the plot and wonder as to where it is going? Everthing is all over the place and a lot of questions arise in your mind. The story is about a father who claims to be on the death bed (which he clearly isn't) and expresses his last wish to eat Muramba, half eaten by Amitabh Bachan. He also claims to have fulfilled a similar wish of his dying father who epitomized Dilip Kumar, who had lived long after eating the pickle half eaten by Dilip Kumar. Just to fulfill this wish the protagonist comes all the way to Mumbai from Allahabad with a Glass container containing Muramba. The movie depicts his persistence and drive to meet Amitabh Bachan to fulfill the wish of his not-so-dying father. He stands through all the thick and thins to finally pave his way towards Amitabh Bachan. Overjoyed seeing Amitabh eating the Muramba, he describes this encounter to everyone whom he meets in the train, when a cruel fellow passenger drops the glass container containing the remaining Muramba on the floor and someone steps on it to destroy the reminiscent. On reaching Allahabad, he however manages to get a similar looking muramba and a glass container. His father, however recognizes the mishap and tells him that Dilip Kumar had denied tasting the pickle so he himself had tasted it and lied to his father. The last line of the movie says, ''Kaach ki bottle main muramba kabhi nahi rakhna chahiye" , when all the loose ends come together that now instill completeness in the plot.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=njzTBH8mZLU

You have to watch the movie for Dibakar Banerjee's and Zoya Akhtar 's work. Yes you will love Nawaaz like never before.

Make sure you leave the theatre before the,"Bombay Talkies song'' appears as that would diminish the 2 hour experience to trash.