It’s a Mad Ad World

In an advertisement for Uninor mobile company, a woman is telling her paramour on mobile, ‘Janu…there is nobody at home tonight; you come straight to my bedroom from the back door. And when you come, I’ll……!” Or the little pug-puppy playing cupid for the little kids for the Vodafone ad; or the lonely girl stranded or locked up in the deserted office building at night, afraid of going out for the Docomo ad (My heart goes out to her!); or a young man on Hero Honda bike, playing prank with a child’s toy-hooter to squeeze out of the traffic – this is the stuff that we are fed on, day in and day out, in the name of advertisements. Read More…

Posted in Article, Causes at March 30th, 2012. No Comments.

All My Dreams

All my dreams

Nurtured for years

Ensconced in the pampered zone,

Suddenly grew

Restless and rebellious

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Posted in Causes, Poem at March 23rd, 2012. No Comments.

My Date With Miss Beam’s School

Most of us must have read E.V. Lucas’s essay ‘School for Sympathy’ in which he talks about Miss Beam’s School where the students had to take an exercise of going through a blind day, lame day, dumb day or deaf day, the objective being to make the children have a firsthand experience about the life of the physically challenged people, their difficulties, their special physical, psychological and emotional needs; and to generate a sympathy and sense of special responsibility towards them.

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Posted in Article, Causes at March 21st, 2012. No Comments.

To Falak With Love

(Falak pe jitney sitare hain who bhi sharmayein)

 

Rest in Peace! Oh, little angel,

That wrenched a million hearts

Your silent, unseen presence –

A thunderous flash in the sky

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Posted in Causes, Poem at March 15th, 2012. No Comments.

The Head and the Helmet

The cricket season is here again with Asia Cup and later IPL series. In fact it is always here. One after the other, different series keep coming on us like pots and pans. Isn’t it?

Cricket is called a ‘gentlemen’s game’. Right from the batsmen, to the bowlers, to the wicket keeper and to the umpires, we have a whole range of gentlemen on the ground trying to show what is meant by sportsman spirit. As compared to soccer, it is a slow-paced game where the players don’t run after each other to grab the ball, don’t push, don’t kick and don’t try to throw others by blocking their way. Here we don’t have the referees (umpires) running along with the players, gesticulating violently, pushing the yellow and red cards into their faces. Nor do we have the coaches shouting wildly, warning, threatening, fretting and fuming in the sidelines.

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Posted in Article, Just for Laughs at March 13th, 2012. No Comments.

Power-Sharing

International Women’s Day, as visualized by the UN in the early years of the last century was seen as a time for asserting women’s political and social rights; and for reviewing the progress that women have made.

We, the first generation of the new, post-independence, women in India, witnessed a momentous rise of feminist activism during the late 1970s; and as the torch bearers, we avowed to rise to the occasion and make the women-empowerment take its roots in our country. We, as young girls worked very hard, with determination and dedication, to do something, to become something and to show to the world that woman can take control of her own destiny. And the first step being education, we knew that we had to do well in studies because failing would mean a sudden stop to our education and perhaps an early marriage.

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Posted in Article, Causes at March 8th, 2012. No Comments.

Lyrical Vignettes

(i)

Every night

Eating out

A plateful of dishes

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Posted in Poem at March 6th, 2012. No Comments.

I-the Narcissist

‘I’ …..They say,

Never stoops down to ‘i’,

But no one can tell you

How come, and why

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Posted in Causes, Poem at March 3rd, 2012. No Comments.

The Bread-Winner

“Cry, you shameless girl, your father is dead!”

This was the tenth time that Kako’s mother had nudged her; tears rolling from her fire-spewing eyes that washed down the dirt from her cheeks creating scary lines on her face; drool dribbling down her mouth, which she didn’t bother to wipe; her dry tangled hair standing on her head like the cock’s crown from her continually pulling at it while keening loudly – a perfect picture of an aggrieved woman.

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Posted in Story at March 1st, 2012. No Comments.