Saturday, March 29, 2014

Hairy Tales

A couple of years ago, I read an issue in Femina regarding women’s independence. The question was, what do you need independence from? Few of the answers were, I need independence to roam late into the night and not be raped or asked questions. I need independence to spend my hard earned money without giving an explanation to someone. One person wrote, I need independence to cut my hair. Independence to cut my hair! I thought, ‘Well, that is weird.’ I did not realize how serious this hairy issue was until after my marriage. A few days into my marriage, my husband made a deal with me, not to cut my hair too short. We negotiated that until I turn 35 years, I will keep my hair length below my shoulders.

Before I delve into this topic of hairy independence, you have to know my hairy history. When I was a kid, about 3-6 years old, I loved my hair. I never wanted to cut it. In those good old days, the barber came to my house to cut my hair. At that point of time, I used to roll up in bed, pretend to sleep and not hear my mother saying that barber uncle has come. When my mom succeeded in waking me up, I hated the sight of the barber with the shiny scissors in one hand, a comb in the other, a stool in front of him, waiting for my hair to be sacrificed. After I cut my hair, my Aunt used to comment, ‘It is’nt short enough, the hair has to be above the ear. Next time cut it like that.’ I used seethe inside at her comment.

In the age of 7-10 years, I made artificial wigs with the towels and kept roaming around the house like that. The hair could be pink, yellow, green or any mixed color depending on the towel's color. The wig was until my hips. My mom has few of those pictures and I hate to show them to anybody. It was kind of a protest I put up to have the freedom to grow hair. My mom either felt sad or got tired of my protests and allowed me to grow my hair. Gee! Finally I get to have long hair. I grew hair until my 10th standard. I used to tie a plait, which came until my waist.

The hair troubles started soon.  My hair is not silky. It is the wavy kind. If I wash my hair, it curls up like maggi noodles. Sunday evening was a traumatic experience. My hair all free and tangled was to be tamed my mother, by applying loads of oil and pulling it by the comb. The session used to go something like this.
‘Abba! You are hurting my hair.’
‘I am hurting your hair! Look how gentle I am.’, and then she used to pull it again
My mother used to pull my head back. I used to pull it forward. She used to say, ‘Why can’t you sit straight up? If you do like this it will hurt more’.
I felt that my mother took the revenge of my teenage disobedience/arrogance on my hair.

After these hair oiling and hair pulling sessions for about one year. I decided, ‘Enough! I am going to cut my hair’. Since then I kept my hair short, just below the shoulders. I sometimes feel the itch to have a bobbed cut, cut my hair just like my aunt asked me to, above the ear. I do not have independence to cut my hair yet, because of the deal I made with my husband.

What are your hairy tales? Do you have independence to cut your hair?

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Queen

Even before you start reading it, don't waste time reading my review. Go watch the movie!

I have heard a lot of good reviews about this movie. I dragged my hubby along with me. I am glad we went to the movie.

Queen is the story of a simple girl, Rani who is transformed into a confident woman. Kangana Ranaut has lived in Rani's character. The movie begins with Rani's marriage preparations. Apt to Cafe Coffee Day's caption, 'A lot can happen over coffee', her fiance breaks up with her over coffee, just one day before the marriage. Rani will be depressed. Her grandmother advises her to be strong, she could find her life partner in the most unexpected places. Rani decides not to cancel her honeymoon trip. She goes to Paris and Amsterdam by herself. Rani has never traveled alone in Rajouri, her younger brother always accompanied her, now she is off to explore the world. She makes good friends in her travel. She makes a friend in Paris and chaste Rani will be forced to share a room with three men, a French, a Japanese and European. In the end, she discovers the freedom women have outside her home and her hometown, Rajouri.

There are a few subtleties in the movie which touched my heart. At the coffee shop, when Rani pleads her fiance to reconsider the marriage, he refuses to accept her request saying that he has grown up by staying in London and she is no longer suitable to him. After Rani leaves crying, he nonchalantly brushes off the dried up Mehendi that fell from Rani's hands. Brushing off that Mehendi was a scene, which was so subtle, yet conveyed a deep meaning. Her first experience in French restaurant, where she unknowingly orders a fish's head. As she struggles to eat it, the eye pops out, she runs away screaming and pukes. The moment when Rani discovers her freedom to belch and dance. Rani goes to a bar in Paris, she gets drunk and dances on top of the bar for a hindi song. All the women beside her throw their jackets. Rani removes her sweater, but she does'nt throw it away. She carefully places it in her bag and starts dancing. After that she goes out and dances in front of a Parisian taxi driver. The driver tries to ignore her by looking at his phone. The drunk Rani belches repeatedly in the taxi, telling to her friend, 'Women are not allowed to belch'.

It is a great movie! I have a new found respect for Kangana Ranaut who pulled off the character so well.



Saturday, March 15, 2014

Happy Dreaming!

March 14, 2014 is the World Sleep Day. How long did I sleep yesterday? Approximately 7 hours. The prescribed amount of sleep per individual per day is 7-9 hours. I am at the lower end, alright!

Dreams are an integral part of sleep. Dreams take us into the magical world of the subconscious. My dreams are in color, most of the times. I have dreams in several categories, few of them are harmful and a few are harmless.

My scariest dreams are the ones in which I am standing at the edge of a cliff. It could also be a waterfall. I fall off. I always hate the pull of the gravity which is so eager to consume me. It is a weird sensation in the stomach, as though someone has compressed it for a few seconds and let go. That could be one reason why I never enjoy roller coasters. I hate them! Whenever I am on them, I squeeze the life out the person’s arm who is sitting next to me, by clutching it.

I also get dreams of huge water bodies. I am in a temple and the temple has a lake. The lake never ends. The blue waters spread into infinity. I am standing on the steps, contemplating whether I want to step into the lake or not. Waterfalls and water bodies mean only one thing.  My subconscious mind could be suggesting me to get up and pee.

Exam dreams are the classic ones. I guess everyone has these dreams at one stage or another. I am staring at an exam paper. I complete answering all the questions. In the end, I realize that paper was not even my standard. It belongs to class above or lower than mine. I also get dreams that I bunked my telugu classes. I did not show up for the whole year to the class. Just one day before the final exam, I frantically skim through the book and show up for exam. Why do I see my Telugu teacher? It could be because I stopped reading telugu novels and books after high school and my subconscious mind is guilty.

The worst dreams are the ones in which my subconscious mind doesn’t let me sleep. I go to sleep and all I hear in my head is ‘Wake up. Wake up’. I wake up and I am so sleepy that I go to sleep again. I hear the same voice, ‘Wake up. Wake up’. I get up groggy eyed and go back to sleep. When the alarm rings, I wake up for real. Well, that is the dream.

I also get a few violent dreams, in which I am captured. I am searching for a way out, doing a karate with my abductors. Those dreams got reduced after I got married. My hubby is glad about that.

So what kind of dreams do you get?


                                                                  Happy sleeping & dreaming!

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Image from google images

Sunday, March 9, 2014

300 Rise of an Empire

In my life, I regret not watching a few movies in theatre. They are Troy, The Dark Knight and 300. I did not make the mistake of not watching the sequel of 300 in a theatre. This is one of the best movies I have watched in a very long time. There are a few movies which we wish would not end. 300: Rise of an empire is one such movie.

Lot of blood got spilled on me. The fact that all the blood was animated gave me a lot of solace, otherwise I could never be able to watch such a gory movie. 300 was about the Spartans led by Leonaidas, the sequel is about Athenians led by Themistocles. Unlike 300, which was on land, in the sequel the entire warfare is on sea. What I loved in the movie were the back stories. How Xerxes became the God King ? Why Xerxes went on a war with the Greeks? Why Xerxes's naval commander, Artemisia is thirsty for vengeance against the Greeks?


I loved the women in this movie. Queen Gorgo and Artemisia were powerful women who led their countries to the war. Themistocles comes to the Queen Gorgo to ask for her support in the war with the Persians. He does not come to the King, with his request, but the Queen. Artemisia influenced Xerxes to become God King after death of his father, Darius in the hands of Themistocles. I loved the confidence, ruthlessness and the war strategies of Artemisia. It was a perfect women's day movie for me.


Few of the dialogues were excellent. I cannot write them in this blog due to censorship issues but they are parallel to 'This is Sparta' and 'This will not be over quickly. You will not enjoy this' dialogues in 300. There is going to be another sequel, where all hell is going to break loose. I will eagerly wait for that, be it 5 or 10 years.

My recommendation: Great movie, go watch it in a theatre, if you loved 300.




Saturday, March 8, 2014

Unbound - Indian Women at Work by Gita Aravamudan




My kindle took a vacation from me and is currently in Hyderabad. I had no option but to go to the local bookstore and pick up a few books. One of those books was Unbound. 

Gita Aravamudan is the author of the book, Unbound, Indian Women @ Work.  This book has stories about women at the workplace. The stories are from varied professions, IT, film industry, hospitality and social services. Gita has divided her book into different sections. In Unbinding, it is about women, who had to come out of the four walls of their home, to fend for their families and to elevate their social status.

Dr. Vatsala Samant, headed the hospital built by Pandit Nehru, in Allahabad. She married an Airforce Officer. A busy doctor and a roaming Airforce officer is not a good combination for work-life balance. Vatsala’s daughter, Sameeta decided to be a stay-at-home mother. Sameeta made this decision because she missed having a normal mother. Due to weird quirk of fate, Sameeta lost her husband at age of 42. Sameeta had no other option but to work, to support her kids. She became a busy mother too, but out of necessity.

Another story is about Sumati, who is from the third generation of domestic service providers. She worked hard, to become a telemarketing agent, and released the family from the bondage of domestic service.

In Husbands, Babies and Motherhood, Gita writes about  women who quit their jobs after having a baby.  After the gap, they excelled in a completely different field. Neeta, worked as a software engineer for ten years. She took a break for four years after birth of her first and second child. After the break, she entered handicrafts business and became successful. Riti, a journalist took a break from a full time journalism career of twenty years to spend with her daughter Amala. After the gap, she founded an enterprise, Riti’s Murder Games, which conducted proactive murder mysteries. A Chief sub-editor at Indian express became a Radio Jockey.

In Perceptions, Gita wrote how society perceives men and women and how it affects a woman’s life. The concept that man is the bread winner is ingrained in Indian Culture. It is the primary responsibility of a man to take care of his family, whereas it is not the responsibility of a woman. Hence a woman does not need her job as much as a man does. During the recession, in 2009, women were given more pink slips than men. In one of the stories, a manager has fired his woman employee and asked her to see it as an opportunity to spend quality time with her kids. 

New Delhi based journalist, Nisha Susan George and her three friends started the pink chaddi campaign. The idea was to collect pink chaddis from all over the country. The pink chaddis were sent to Pramod Muthalik and his men on Valentines Day to spread the message of love. Pramod Muthalik was the founder of Rama Sene. In 2009, his men barged into the pub Amnesia and beat up a group of young women to straighten them up. They were fanatics who viewed women’s independence as threat to the existing patriarchal structure. 



Being an Indian working woman, I could relate to the stories that Gita wrote in her book. On the occasion of Women’s Day, I would recommend women to read this book. It has overwhelming and inspiring stories about ordinary women like you and me and their extraordinary journey through life.

Saturday, March 1, 2014

One year Anniversary

One year Anniversary of my blog was on February 22nd and I was too busy even to post about it. Terrible me! The shortest month of the year always sees a few posts. It happened last year, and this year as well.Moving forward, I hope that this will not be the signature trademark of February.

February was a busy month, both on the personal and professional fronts. On the personal front, I traveled to Hyderabad, Mumbai and Solapur. During my trips I met quite a lot of family members; cousins, nieces, nephews, aunts and uncles.  I saw a piece of their life and got inspired for the better. In Mumbai, I met my sweet niece and nephew who are twins. It is always amazing to see how fast the kids have grown up and how far they have come. In Solapur, I met relatives from my hubby's side.The visits involved gastronomic indulgences. In Hyderabad, I had the famous Hyderabadi Biryani and Karachi biscuits. My hubby and I experienced the Mumbai night life. We partied with my cousins, in a bar/restaurant until 2.30 AM in the morning. That was quite unlike me! The visit to Solapur was also my first visit after marriage. All the aunts and grandmother on my hubby's side are great cooks. They made great traditional dishes which involved killing of a few goats. The food was great, but the great quantities thrusted down our throats,  resulted in an uneasy stomach. The visits to Hyderabad, Mumbai and Solapur were a great start for the beginning of the year.

In one year, I wrote 63 posts. The posts covered  random aspects of my life, from my bachelorette days to getting into a battle with the pigeons. The posts equate to about 150 hours of writing and editing in an year. I know that 150 hours is far from the 10,000 hours, that  Malcolm Gladwell prescribes to be a perfectionist. There is still time. Whenever I feel bad about the time it will take me to become a writer, I remember the quote by Earl Nightingale, and this quote keeps me going.

'Don't let the fear of the time it will take to accomplish something stand in the way of your doing it. The time will pass anyway; we might just as well put that passing time to the best possible use.'

I want to thank my mother who has always encouraged me to write and is also responsible for my varied interests in reading. I want to thank my hubby, who waits for me to finish my blog posts on Saturday mornings. It means getting angry stares from me, when I am disturbed and late lunches. He is also the first editor for my posts. I also want to thank all the wonderful people who took time to read my blog and encouraged me to write. It means a lot to me, and keeps me inspired to write.