I am. HERE!

It is amazing how the liberation that i claim to have imbibed over the years, through my upbringing, education and general growing up, is not even close to as complete as i’d like it to be.

Liberation. Freedom. An individual. Rights. My Rights. It is all fine to shout to the world that this is all true. This is all mine. I can live as i want to, where i want to, how i want to.

What is not fine is how, when you do do that, even if only by walking down a road by yourself, and not really voicing it, there is always somebody- somebody- who will try to put you back in your ‘place’. it doesn’t even have to be alone. sitting in a car with the windows down can also prompt the man standing on the sidewalk, with his friends, blowing away his life in smoke, to try and make a grab at you.

how, if you so much as dare to step out after sundown, there is not a moment when you yourself do not fear the onslaught of a menagerie of men, all trying to claim equal share of the pie.

how, if you sit at a cafe or restaurant or go to watch a movie, on your own, you’re considered as available. And willing to be a player.

how, if you’re travelling in a bus or by the local train, and if you wear western clothes, and if you try to put on your ipod to block out the sounds of perversion, they’ll make sure you listen to them. and if you don’t oblige, you’ll see it. and feel it. the grossness of it all.

how if you want to hang out with you guy friends, or just your boyfriend, you’re again considered fair game. and the danger of being nabbed and swallowed by the beasts will intimidate you.

it continues to intimidate. it always will. it is imperative that women forever keep their minds and all senses open, at all times, when a part of the public. always, always we’ll feel the prickiness of being alert, for fear of being violated. what about the violation of one’s individuality in this constant experience of fear? how do you feel free if your, womanhood, is forever is at stake?!

there is liberation. It is a tangible facet of my life today. of a lot of women’s lives. but it is not complete. it feels like it will take forever to be so. the power tussle is not going to get resolved by burning our bras and screaming for sufrage or the threatening refusal to make dinner. the idea of equality is one that was never digested easily by the one who had the upper hand.

and that has to be a given. they do have the upper hand. and not all of them are alike. hell, not all of us are alike. there are those who submit, are taught to submit, to the will of power meekly. and those who are merely turned on by it. but for the rest of us, we will have to continue to yell in the face of our infringers, to tell this ‘civilised’ world what a severe breach of conduct some of the members of this society are making.

and till the day that our daughters will be able to walk in peace, as carefree as that languid black cat that crosses the road on its pace, leaving those behind with a shadow of doubt if they should tread further, we will continue to walk the roads, and wear skin tight tees and listen to our ipods and scream bloody murder when the beast raises its paw…till then.

Jump! for my love…

The jumpsuit is back! more flowy, feminine and pret than ever before. this amazingly convenient item of clothing was once the need of assembly line workers, astronauts, and was generally something that must’ve been a harbinger of all those moments of boredom spent at dreary work.

Then some high flying fashion designer, on a hot, tedious summer afternoon, with the weight of heat and unproductiveness, glanced in the direction of his son and realised the beauty of the coverall he was wearing. And decided to display it to the world. On the ramps and on the profiles of hot bods of the time. since then, there’s been no stopping the jumpsuit from hopping to the forefront of any fashion show.

And then, it gained mega-celebrity status when Elvis Presley did a number in it.

And today, although in and out of fashionistas wardrobes and the racks of haute couture, it has gained the status of the stiletto- not always in the limelight, but forever sexy. and its sexiness is largely attributed to its comfort-ability. like that favourite pair of dungarees that you’d never want to take off, all those days ago. And altered to a little less here, a stitch there, it can make the most (unwantedly) curvacious bodies look like flat ironed steel. this time, its chanel, zoya and even Indian designers like Arjun who are doing the honours.

time for another swagger down high fashion’s memory lane. (and that is such a pleasantly vicious circle!)

the whole nine yards

We are the tropical modern. The sahibs may have translated our texts into English. Hollywood’s celebrities have helped us rediscover yoga and our own godmen. But as the new middle class gets wealthier, as the NRI need for ‘Indian culture’ spurs a return to the root, as the competitive economy sends us scurrying to the Upanishads, we have never been so comforted or so decorated by India. We mix family with fun, God with surround sound and martinis with Mallikarjun Mansoor. Six decades after Independence, we are unapologetic about our freedom to choose.

- Sagarika Ghose

“Lassi on the Rocks” in Marie Claire ( June 2008 )

Amen. There is an India which grows more liberated by the day. incorporating myriad cultures, philosophies, ways of living, characters and characteristics, worlds within itself, it is now a brand in its own right. a brand name which is a harbinger of all that is exotic and the erotic (India is still probably most famous for kama sutra).

the cocktail generation doesn’t need reason to run out partying, rocking to angrezi music, drinking cans of imported beer, sing and head bang under the sun, under the sometimes admonishing gaze of tradition. but we are equally ready to sing the national anthem with our hands on our hearts and our minds in the right place. the choice remains- and the freedom to make those choices we proudly claim as ours today.

it is the flight of the phoenix. which rose from the ashes more than half a century ago. and now, Donna Karan, Louis Vuitton and Walmart all want to be a part of this steep flight alike. Now Bollywood can boast of a truly global audience. Now, the Indian middle class becomes the jet-setter, globe-trotter sort, with the world lying an open book, yearning to be explored, before them.

We’re going places bay-beh!

New Media- Made over!

http://publications.mediapost.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=Articles.showArticleHomePage&art_aid=34270

Now here’s a threat to my esteemed profession. Immedia, as the author of this piece of literature calls it, is going to be the death of any form of professional mass communication, if this author, and the numbers he gives, are to be believed. where do we go, once we are ejected out of our offices, because now we, and not our machines, are redundant? geez, journalists of the world, its time to look under other stones for survival!

fail not to heed the siren wails that our benevolent machines are sending out! man shall sit at home and re-live the day to day happenings, and that is how we shall keep a record of what the human race endures in the future. the image isn’t far from what many sci-fi authors have foretold in creative imagination- it is once again a ‘war of the worlds’- the real and the virtual.

Be warned. Be prepared.

And put some cash into my begging bowl. I needeth to live too, my friend…Even if newspaper can only be used to pack lunches, now on.

Thought of the Day:

Sometimes, thinking out of the Box is all it takes. And then again, who defines the box?!

*balls*