Dance of the Lord

Ghati Dance - a term that, for the longest time, has held a negative connotation for me. I always considered "those" people as outright 'sadakchaap' and everytime I would see a group dancing on the streets, I would wonder whether they realised how stupid they looked.

I always felt that dance, in its purest form existed only in the studios. The one passion that somehow kept flickering, if not burning, within me was dance. Ever since I can remember, my feet would automatically go "1,2,3,4...". From screaming "hey!" at a beat to getting the perfect "Jazz" hands to getting that gangsta' groove, it felt really good to have experienced a little of different dance forms.

But, this night changed it all. Every year, during the festival of Ganpati, we would mentally prepare ourselves for the loud music at the time of visarjan. This time around, my childhood friend Kathy called and said, "Hey, do you wanna go dance...on the road?" Within no time, I was out, "on the road" as we called it, dancing the famous "ganpati dance". As we let our hair down, I looked around me, and wondered, some of these people around me may have never had any formal dance training but can they dance!!

The "I-don't-care-what-others-may-think-I'm-having-fun" attitude encouraged me to follow suit and man was it fun! Never in my life had I ever imagined I would be doing the ganpati dance in the middle of the road.

Maybe it was the company or maybe it was the music that egged me on, but either way, I'm grateful that I did the Dance of the Lord tonight.

Hung Up

You. Love.
Love. Life.
Life. Commitment.
Commitment. Future.

Future. Unpredictable.
Unpredictable. Present.
Present. Past.
Past. Illusion.
Illusion. You

Endnote: Rolling simile. Life.
Life. Reality.
Reality. Rolling simile???

Smooth Criminal...

Having been fascinated about dancing ever since I was a kid, one of my first celebrity crushes was a man called Micheal Jackson. Although many thought he looked 'feminine', I couldn't have cared less... The man was not only a great singer, but God does he move!!!!!!!

I even recall shutting my bedroom door, pretending to study, but actually trying to copy
some of the King's moves in front of the mirror. Somehow, the pelvic thrusts always seemed incomplete with the "OWW"!!!!

All the girls my age were swooning to the tunes of Billie Jean, Black or White, In the Closet, Thriller and many many others. I distinctly remember watching images of women weeping on television for MJ everytime he made a public appearance. And I always wondered..."okay I know he's good...but crying for him...really!!!!!!"

Soon, time went by and the BSBs and the Boyzones replaced MJ. Until today, when the first thing Google decides to tell me is "Micheal Jackson no more.Dies of cardiac arrest". Now, I'm not one of those crazy fans who'd break down and cry everytime their favourite celebrity is going thorugh a bad time... (read SRK fans crying everytime they saw Kal Ho Naa Ho). But, somehow, today was different.

Not only did I youtube all of his famous videos, but I also actually bothered writing an antire blog entry dedicated just to him. Other opinions and news about MJ notwithstanding, the world really has lost a legend and am not in the least embarassed to admit that today, a fan cried...R.I.P MJ...we love you

I versus me

You hurt me. You upset me.
You depress me. You distress me.

You care for me. You look out for me.
You make it seem like you will be there for me.

You frustrate me. You anger me.
You love me. You hate me.

You can't stand me. You can't do without me.
You want to shun me out of your life.

You're distanced from me. You're detached from me.
And now, you've made me incomplete.

Please, please help me get back to my old self again.
I hope the inner me is listening

Teen Mundi

As a kid who’s grown up in a locality that had a lot of kids her age, I would look forward to the time the clock struck 6 p.m. For that would be our “playing” time. No sooner would the afternoon sun become less harsh, than one would see a bunch of 12 or 13 year olds all geared up to play all sorts of things – some like the good ol’ catch-n-cook or others that we just made up. But our all time favourite was chor-police or cops and robbers.

I remember once, when we were playing cops and robbers, some of us dared to venture into the place that had the teen mundi (3 headed monster). This was no fragment of our imagination. Teen mundi used to live in the New Building, an under construction building in our campus and we kids used to be very scared of him. But since I was the robber, and since I was with the big kids, I put fears aside and decided to take the plunge.

Now the place where teen mundi used to live was this dark, dusty place full of rubble and bricks. While this was the perfect haunted house for me, it was the perfect hiding place for the rest. So while everyone else climbed over makeshift counters and piles of bricks, I found a corner to stand in. Till the time we were caught by the ‘cops’ some fifteen minutes later, I took my time to see the place. And it was only then I realised that teen mundi was the big kids way to scare us off while we were the cops. I will never forget making those hooting sounds to scare the other kids off.

Today, the New Building, as we would call it then, must be over ten years old. And even though teen mundi’s place has now become the lobby of a very posh hotel, everytime I walk in that lobby, I can still picture a little girl standing in the corner making hooting noises to scare off the cops.

Saffrons and Greens

Seven years ago, an entire state burnt. Seven years ago, a handful of fanatics decided that a certain group of people did not deserve to live. And the rest, as they say, is history. Seven years ago is a long time. Long enough to be written off as ‘history’, isn’t it?

But, somehow, things don’t fit. Fanatics continue to propagate their thoughts. Authorities continue to make tall claims of doing their best to punish those responsible. In the meanwhile, an entire community still continues to live with horrible memories etched in their minds. Some are forced to walk on the streets listening to taunts from those who stabbed their children and raped their mothers and, if they were really lucky, just burned their families to death.

Today, seven long years later, while most of us may not even be aware of what has been happening (neither would I had I not been so passionately involved in making a documentary on the subject), a not-so-minor community waits for “justice” even if it means living right next to those who wreaked such havoc that would change lives forever.

And even then, these people await justice. Maybe its because there is a very thin line between the saffrons and greens and that thin line is called justice…

One year ago, when I set out with a bunch of like-minded people to explore what really went on in the land of Gandhi post 2002, I, like any other journalism student went with the idea of “doing something different”. And even though I had the most unforgettable experience there, one thing that I will always remember is that justice is a relative term.

But, what struck me the most is that despite the cleverly concealed lies, one journalist dared to expose the truth about what really happened. Recovering cellphone records is no easy task, but someone did it just because that someone refused to believe whatever was being fed to them by the government. Today, thanks to those very cellphone records, an entire community has let out a miniscule, almost negligible, sigh of relief.

I wonder then, how many such enquiries, arrests, blame games and diplomatic discussions would it take for another city to breathe easy? Maybe this time, justice would not be so difficult to achieve.

Or maybe its because, for once, the saffrons and greens are on the same side of the firing line.

P.S: this entry is dedicated to those who made my experiences in Gujarat unforgettable. And to the one person in my profession I admire the most.

Valentine's Day

The screaming continued, the abuses got louder and louder every minute. I was so engrossed in those foreign voices that I almost missed it. Valentine's Day had arrived.

As the clock strikes 12 on 13 February every year, most people all over the world hug, kiss and wish each other a "Happy Valentine's Day". But, this year, as I sat up, reading my book , I hadn't noticed it was Valentine's Day until I heard someone hurling a volley of abuses .

Since it was late in the night, the abuses were loud and clear. The noise was coming from this building behind mine. What seemed like a heated argument between a husband and wife made me think that maybe, there was someone in that family who had probably wanted to wish his/her parents on Valentine's Day, but was greeted instead by words he/she had probably never heard.

After the shouting went on for an hour or so, I thought of calling the police - what if the woman who was screaming hysterically was in trouble? But then, something stopped me. As I sat there, the fighting having ceased finally, I thought to myself. Was Valentine's Day really about just one day where one feels happy about having someone special or is it wanting to be with that one person despite everything...