Monday, April 29, 2013

She is not asking for it.

Image: Google

She is not asking for it:
Her shorts, her minis, her backless do not pose any kind of danger to the society.
By roaming anywhere at any time, she is not a threat to the human civilization in any way.
When she hangs out with her boyfriend or male friends, it does not make her less of a woman.
She does not shame womanhood when she laughs at adult jokes.
She is not a commodity or a wall that is dented and painted when she wears makeup.
Her friendly and free nature doesn't mean her body is available to anyone.

He is sick:
When he throws lewd remarks and gestures at her, it make him less of a man.
Identifying women as inferior makes him unmanly.
When he roams at night with hunger in his eyes for his prey puts the human civilization in peril.
When he vulgarly eyes a woman, undressing her in his mind, it endangers the civilized society.
His barbaric intentions and actions towards woman, makes him a beast.
His perception of women as a toy to fulfill his sexual urges shames not only all the men but every human on planet.

We need a society which does not ask any girl... a woman to not to step out at night nor asks her how to dress up.
We need a society which asks the boys..the men to treat a woman as a human.
We need a society which doesn't blame the victim but punishes the culprit.

I am a woman and I want to breath in life freely .. beautifully .. humanely.

Friday, April 19, 2013

I got Book-ed!

haven't felt this kind of addiction for books in years. Registering me on Goodreads was one of the best online things I have done till now. Everyone there talks about books; classics, literature, historical, new releases everything, you name it. There are books and books and more books. Its heaven.

I am now reading five books (two e-books and three real ones), a surprise for myself as I have never managed to read more than two at a time. Talk of multi-reading. How am I managing, aah! its just coming to me naturally.

Going back to my love with full passion is such a divine feeling. The scent of the books, the feel of the book jackets/covers, the touch and aroma of the pages; the smell depending on the number of years affecting it ---err, except the "e" ones.

Courtesy: Pinterest

January 2013 marked the 200th Anniversary of  “Pride and Prejudice”. Give me one good reason for not going back to it for the 5th time, for I am a huge admirer of Jane Austen; she is my most Favorite author. I need not say anything further for I would go on and on and on…..

The fervor has led me to one of the greatest writers of all times, William Shakespeare. More than a decade ago, I bought a copy of  “King Lear” and couldn't read more than a page. I knew I had to wait to understand and love that kind of writing. Guess its time. Though “King Lear” still sits tidily on my bookshelf, Shakespeare has made his way into my hands through his “Sonnets”.
This I went for after I finished the Collection of Leo Tolstoy's eleven short stories. Loved it.

Interpreter of Maladies” won the Pulitzer Prize and I knew, I was destined to read it. That prophecy turned out true last week. I am on the verge of finishing the book. Jhumpa Lahiri's “The Namesake” is next in the pipeline.

Being an Adventure/ Thriller/ Detective books' fan, Dame Agatha Christie has always been with me almost all my life. Her “The man in the brown suit” is one of my all time favorite reads. Currently, collection of her short stories is what I am treating myself to. It's the famous, “The Tuesday Night Club*winks*

Step aside Collens for the Father of all vampires is here; “Dracula”. I have two similarities with Abraham "Bram" Stoker; same birthday (of course…not the same year sweety) and love for Vampire stories.
Does 8th Nov anything to do with the Un-Deads? *wonders and winks*

Those are the five heavenly bodies that are presently part of me. 
Ergo, the week's hiatus from blogging. Passion can take you places yes... mine is taking me to infinite numbers of worlds of imagination and creativity.

A little Jingle thats playing in my mind for sometime...
Books Books Books Books Books hai wonderful
Read sakte hain roz raatful ...

****Special Thanks to my partner in crime, Rashmi for recommending "Sonnets"....long live sisterhood.... xoxo****

Saturday, April 6, 2013

What’s so nice about it …Maa?

This morning I strolled into the local bazaar to buy vegetables and fruits. Aah! The morning bazaar looked absolutely heaven on earth, like always. Fresh colorful veggies seduced my senses and I had trouble resisting myself from buying the whole market.

The divine moment came abruptly to a screeching halt, when a familiar sweet ripe smell wafted into my nostrils. Is it? Oh yes it is. Since time immemorial, I have known this smell and its source, liking it…disliking it. Strangely, as much as I love it in its raw form its ripe stage repulses me.
It’s the yellow/green/red, fleshy, sweet/sour, fibrous, single seeded…. crowned as the king of fruits; Mango!

During my school days, where Mom had a tough time to push the chunks of ripe mangoes down my throat, I along with my friends snacked on the raw mango pieces, marinated in salt and turmeric.Our neighbors used to fan out those marinated mangoes over a large piece of cloth on terrace, to make pickles after they are sunned properly--- Hush! We didn't steal…we borrowed *Grins innocently*
*those were the days.. sigh*

Anyhow, back to present, Mom invented a smart way of feeding me things I don't like (to her relief, my dislike list is a tiny one—yes I am a good girl), she mixes the ripe mango pulp with milk and freezes it… And, we both are two happy women.
However, my aversion towards the yellow fruit definitely SHOCKS every human being; living or dead, to the extent that eye balls pop out in 3D. Many ridicule my taste…some doubt my human identity…whereas some think I don't eat mangoes to maintain my petite figure. 

The other item that sits in my dislike list is Okra. Dang, I can’t stand the slimy multi-seeded insides of that veggie. It looks like innards of an alien from a Hollywood movie.
For this, I have been very well criticized by every living-nonliving creature on earth for not liking the slim-trim vegetable.
How does Mom manage to make me eat it? Well, she makes puppy eyes that only work occasionally.

The Universe blessed me with a set of sweet teeth, although, the one sweet that makes every cell of my body go numb is Ghevar. Just one small bite of it and it seems like I chomped on 10 kg of Jalebis at one go. Here, I have lesser pair of eyes that pop out in disbelief and Mom doesn't make any effort either. 


What tops my list is Drumstick (vegetable). All I have to do is chew and chew and … chew. Furthermore by the time, I am done with the chewing; the appetite for the meal dies.
Moreover, I cannot let my jaws go through all this hard work for a tiny amount of flesh and juice…and then end up looking like a cow savoring its fodder.
I haven't been subjected to anyone's wrath yet for this one; apparently, no one cares much for the long green sticks.
Although, Mom lectures me on the nutrients the drumsticks carry, I don't cave in. Her puppy eyes too, fail to convince me.

Note: No Tantrums were thrown by me... only the card of for every other food was played, every time, no exceptions.

                                                        Image courtesy: Inmagine

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

The Bong Chronicles: Part I

I Lack Bong-ness ...

Image: Google Images

The young father made sure that his Mumbai born daughter’s name is pronounced correctly (note: correctly = Bengalized way) by placing an "o" in the place of an "a" in her name. Alas, he had no inkling that the very daughter (yours' truly), would turn into anything but a true blue Bong.

To begin with, The Universe didn't give the trademark curly luscious mane; I am blessed with straight hair that threatens to thin out every now and then. Often, I have been told that my features are more of a Gujju's than of a Bong's- Interesting, no?

From lessons on how to separate fish bones and the flesh to savor machher jhols and jhaals to education on how culturally rich roots I have, I was being groomed by my parents (here majority of stocks belonged to my father) on how to be a Bengali.
I was introduced to Robindro shongeet and Nazrul geeti, and though I found them very soothing, I preferred dancing on all Hindi film songs no matter how crappy they were.
Ergo, I was now and then lectured on how new Hindi Film songs (old classics were always welcome) polluted the young minds of young Bengalis with nonsense music and even more nonsense lyrics. Did I care? Naaah! They were- "COOL". After all, my friends and school mates loved them, and they knew better and moreover I had to fit in, didn't I?

Dad taught me to read and write in Bangla during summer vacations. Vacations meant; no schools, no books, no studies of any kind. Vacations meant; only play and TV, in short "FUN". But sadly, when all my friends took full advantage of the two month long vacations, I, much to my chagrin, gave one hour to Bangla lessons, every day. My young mind used to s.c.r.e.a.m: *Why on earth do I need to read and write Bangla, School is never going to give me test on the lingo? Then why..why..WHY?*
For me speaking the mother tongue was more than enough, and I was good at it; I really was. Where on one hand my fellow probashi Bong kids couldn't even manage one sentence without heavy Hindi accent, on the other hand, thanks to my father, I was doing far better than them.

I protested with all the might of a 12-ish year old. I was reasoned; "What will you do when you have to write a letter to your mother-in-law?"
-"Wait a minute, Mother-in-law!? Now where did she appear from?" I thought.
Knitting my eyebrows, I replied, "I will write in English"; wasn't that obvious?

An alarming question was thrown at me, “And what if she doesn't know English?”Huh! Can it go more hypothetical?.... I calmly countered, “I will teach her”. Laughter floated in the room. My father proudly announced that I was a sharp young lady, and how in future I would make anyone feel tongue tied, hearing which my heart swelled with joy and relief, finally I had made sense to them and freedom was just seconds away.
However, those same much awaited seconds brought me back to reality; I was directed to the chapters I had to read that day.*sigh, so much for joy and relief*
Anyhoo, to keep the practice I was given Bangla newspapers, magazines and comics to read, which were a tiring task as I took 10 mins to read 5 sentences. Nonetheless, the best part was classic Bengali movies. My vocabulary improved along with great entertainment.

Frequent Kolkata trips were not just meant to meet our kin but also to make me love the city and the state. Although I love the city and I yearn to visit it more often, but, much to my father’s dismay Kolkata couldn't be my "first city" till date. Mumbai is always "Meri Jaan".

Gorging on big mountains of rice and those big bowls of side dishes, is not my cup of tea, and that makes my Mashis think I am undernourished.
From the day my taste senses developed, all my teeth turned sweet. A typical bong trait- but wait, my teeth didn't crave for Bong sweets they desired chocolates and pastries. I do like Roshogollas and Misthi doyis and Sondesh, but, I am not crazy for them. 

Images: Google Images

Time did change my views on those trashy filmy songs and my ears are now only for good music. Be it Robindro shongeet, Nazrul geeti, Hindi film songs or any other kind.
And my singing, unlike the majority of bong lasses, can built acidity in the tummies of the Grammy winners.
I still take 10 min to read 5 sentences *smiles sheepishly* and about writing in Bangla, well.. err.. No comments. *looks elsewhere*

Friends have tagged me as a fake Bong who lacks Bongness. I am learning to understand and inculcate more of Bongness but, I can’t do it just for the sake of it. 

Oh! Btw, those eating lessons were a success, now I am such a hardcore (expert) fish eater, that sometimes, I feel like a cat… Meow *wink*

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