Sex and the City

Yesterday I read an interesting piece of news in the TOI column. It said that a woman inspired by the Samantha’s character in the popular series, Sex and the City, had gone on to have sex with more than 1000 men. That she’s yet alive and not contracted any STD itself is a miracle. But my blog isn’t about that woman but the women in SATC itself. The series, originally produced by HBO was an instant hit with the audience and ran for nearly six years. The series was adapted on Candace Bushnell’s book by the same name.

For those of you who have no clue about SATC but share the space with us on Earth, here’s a gist: SATC (that’s short for Sex and The City, duh!) is about four ambitious single women in their thirties (just Samantha being in her forties but still so smoking hot) living in upscale Manhattan and their trysts with men accompanied by heart-breaks, two-timings, dalliances and of course a lot of sex.

The story revolves around Carrie Bradshaw, a New York Times columnist, and her gang of girl friends comprising Samantha, who runs her own PR firm and likes be the guy in the relationship having sex with no strings attached; Miranda, a lawyer working long hours to be made partner of the firm and a commitophobe; Charlotte, a curator who weaves her own fantasy notions of romance and is in pursuit of her Prince Charming.

Every episode starts with Carrie’s narration of her beloved city New York followed by a question posed by her (or one of her friend’s) relationship with men which provides regular fodder for her column. As you see the four feisty, free-willed women getting dolled up in the latest haute couture for an evening in a chic bar to down Cosmopolitans and meet interesting men (age no bar), you cannot help but wonder where they find the energy to do all that after a hard day’s work!!!

These women have it all (well almost all) with their independent lifestyles, budding careers, and who can forget their awesome wardrobes. What makes the series enthralling (and almost addictive) is that we cannot help but relate to one (or more) of the guys and view the relationship as a bystander as these women fall in and out of love. In a country where the norm is to sleep with the person first and (maybe) fall in love later, there is enough sex and heart breaks. But this is not a self-help series on “How to meet Mr. Right” or “How not to make the same mistakes with men”. Even though we can make the right choices for them as we watch them, we would still make the same mistakes all over again in the name of “love”.

In one word if I were to describe SATC, it would be “empowering”. SATC may to be self-helping but it is definitely self-healing as you find solace in the virtual sorority. Like I say, when you own the entire series of SATC, who needs men anyway!
P.S. I don't hate men :-)

Invictus

Storyline

Invictus is a biographical drama film based on the book, Playing the Enemy, by John Carlin. The storyline involves one man’s dream to see his country make it to the World Cup. The man being none other than Nelson Mandela. Directed by Clint Eastwood, it stars Morgan Freeman as Nelson Mandela and Matt Damon as François Pienaar, the captain of the Springboks, the South African rugby union team.

The movie starts with Mandela being freed from prison and his subsequent win in the election to become the President of South Africa. As he tries to find amicable solutions to some of the deep-rooted problems within the nation including apartheid, he attends a rugby game played by the home team, Springboks. After he wishes luck to each of the team members, he is shown moving towards the front row of the stadium to shake hands with a white guy who is cheering for the home team while the rest of the native Africans are cheering for the rival team. To the natives, Springbok still symbolizes apartheid. In a bid to unite the whites and the blacks of his country, he decides to back the failing Springbok team to enter the World Cup, which is just a year away and to be hosted in South Africa.

At his meeting with François Pienaar, Mandela says that the English have given them two good things: one is rugby while the other is the afternoon tea, which he himself pours for François.

Even as he’s greeted by cold shoulders from his cabinet, family, and even his own countrymen to support Springboks, his unflinching belief and support for the team and their subsequent win in the 1994 World Cup forms the rest of the storyline.

The title of the movie, Invictus, comes from a poem written by the English poet William Ernest Henley. The poem apparently served as an inspiration and helped Mandela bide his time in prison. A day before the D-day, he writes that poem and hands it over to François.

My two cents

From the slight hunch to his other mannerisms, Morgan Freeman’s portrayal of Nelson Mandela was perfect and inimitable. After watching the movie, when you think Mandela your mind will only conjure up the image of Morgan Freeman. Matt Damon with his usual deadpan expression (not even a smile when he meets with the President or a hearty smile when his team wins, but he’s seen smiling in the poster) fails to capture any emotion or the audience’s attention. His depiction as Bourne had him at least look serious but this role could have been played by any rookie with blond hair. Makes you wonder if the real François is stoic too! And wonder how Damon was even nominated for the Best Supporting Actor (Academy Award).

Invictus fails to be a drama where the unintended bonding of a President and a Captain could have been captured beautifully but ends up more like any other sports movie where the coach ultimately leads his team to an unexpected win in a nail-biting finish. The movie is incredibly slow and fails to rev up even when the rugby match starts.

The movie shows Mandela as one interested more in rugby than in any of the pressing political matters; his security guards as a bunch of dimwits who panic at newspaper delivery vans and an airplane that is flown to cheer the team but of whose inclusion they are blissfully unaware of; Francois as a spineless captain who cannot even get his team mates do what the President desires.

I am huge fan of Clint Eastwood’s movies. I always thought he made a better director than an actor. There are very few movies of his where I have not shed copious tears. This movie too made me cry out of disappointment. After the grand success of Gran Torino last year, this movie falls way too short of his fans’ expectations. For a director who relies heavily on pathos, the only emotion he can expect from his fans is a big yawn and a bigger frown for such a huge let-down.

Verdict

Watch this movie only if you have nothing else to do! Definitely no big shakes and is worth a miss.

Sex and the Country

In the last few months, there has been a host of sex scandals involving godmen, a governor and a retired police commissioner. While media is having a field day, so are the readers who do not have to look at International News columns for that juicy tidbit when you have juicier stories as headlines almost every other day.

Just as YouTube was recovering from the hits on Tiwari’s twosome video, Nityananda’s “love” video involving an actress was posted. News channels aired some parts of the video throughout the day calling it breaking news (most of the viewers had no clue as to who Nityananda was) and even put together a panel of nobodies to debate about his action. The Tamil news channel, Sun TV, which first aired the sensational video with the face of the actress blurred, took it a step further by creating a whodunit mystery asking its viewers to stay glued to the news the next day as they were going to reveal the identity of the actress.

While the news channels sympathized with the actress who claimed to be one among the several inmates that the swamiji sexploited, the swamiji did a disappearing act while betrayed devotees were asked to evacuate the ashram premises as others who had nothing to do with the whole affair continued to trash everything that was in sight and set fire to the property.

In this whole affair, who is the victim and who is the culprit?

There is no one answer to who the culprit is but there definitely is no victim.

Culprit #1: Swami Nityananda: This self-professed sanyasi with his mellifluous voice found it hard to abandon desire amid actresses who sought him desperately to find solace and which they did find!

Culprit #2: The actress Ranjita: The lady who has confessed to setting up the camera and capturing the action is no babe in the woods. Sleeping around is something that comes as naturally to them as acting. When the swami refused to marry her (especially after she learned of his current assets which is roughly estimated as 300 crores), she felt betrayed and decided to turn him in.

Culprit #3: Media: While the media’s job is to report news, the vulgarity involved in sensationalizing the whole affair was nothing less than gutter press. They aired the video throughout the day not caring if it was watched by a 80-year-old or an 8-year-old.

Culprit#4: We: We are the main culprits for we not only elevated a mere mortal to a godman status and then claimed to have felt betrayed and let down by him but we were equally culpable as voyeurs and vandals.

This reminds me of a scene in Dev D. where Chanda’s father confronts her after watching her sex MMS and reprimands her while a guileless Chanda retorts by asking him what kind of a father was he to have watched something like that which involved his own daughter. She walks out of the room while the father retires into his bedroom and shoots himself ashamed and guilty of his action.

So are we not the main culprits?

Sinner's City

Yesterday, On Radio Indigo, RJ Rohit Barker was asking what Bangalore should be called. Bangalore has never been short of epithets such as:
· Garden City (which quickly turned to Garbage City)
· Pub City (not because of beer baron Mallya but because there are more watering holes in the city than malls or amusement parks that the fave pastime is pub hopping)
· Silicon Valley (because Pune was late in acceding to the demands of our Father of IT, Narayan Murthy and the State Government, for once, acted fast and foolishly in granting him every favor so he could thrive along with his bludgeoning IT coolies while the common man cannot not even afford coriander leaves)
· City of Pot Holes and Potbellies (seriously, cannot make out which is more dominant) and so on.

If these were not enough, we are also contending for many more coveted titles such as:
· The Rudest City (right now Delhi holds the title but it’s just a matter of days before we win it)
· City of Stray Dogs (Menaka would honor us with this award. So what if a few babies are being eaten by dogs or if we run or get chased by street dogs and in the process burn a few calories, but we are sure to be certified a dog-friendly city)
· The Most Unsafe City (as it read in today’s newspaper because apparently our roads are supposed to be very unsafe. I really wonder now how can they be unsafe when a rider cannot go beyond 30 kms/hour as in a span of half a kilometer, he/she’ll not only encounter at least three traffic signals, but at least three pot holes, four road humps (speed breakers if you please but we localities call it road humps), a few road bumps (these were once road humps but after many complaints by drivers, the BMP in order to facilitate smooth travel tried to rid the city of those but as usual they did not do a good job, so instead of going over it, now you have to go under it, so their exercise was quite pointless as anyway you have to brake your vehicle unless you are a daredevil and fly over it). I would say the city is unsafe for pedestrians for they have to walk on the roads as some bikers treat the sidewalks as expressways, for they have to cross the road when the signal turns green as the drivers will rev up at amber and speed up when the light turns red.
· The Most Expensive City to Live (right from sugar to petrol to LPG to bus ticket to real estate, everything in the city is expensive. But we don’t worry about such trivia. We will only be too willing to tip the autowallah if he only consents to drop you off at your place at the sum he quoted or will we ask the Reliance Fresh guy at the counter why he’s rounding off the 20 paise to a rupee)
· The Most Apathetic City (we are generous people and we do not complain. We are perfect hosts always trying to make our guests feel comfortable. We are always making way for others. Just as we made way for so many non-Karnataka people to come and make Bangalore their base so they think that adding “maadi” at every English sentence is actually speaking the vernacular and griping about everything in the city but still not getting their fat butt out of this city to cutting down the several old trees to widen roads and to make more way for traffic and pollution. We don’t give a damn what is dying: Kannada or trees. Our reaction is always the same: apathy.

I know what to call my beloved city. Just as Las Vegas is called Sin City, Bangalore must be called Sinner’s City. I hate what my city has turned into: from a garden city to a concrete jungle. Wherever I turn, I see trees being felled, agricultural lands being turned into commercial lands, and lakes being filled with concrete for buildings to grow. Money has lost value as we pimp our souls to make a few bucks more; as a result, there is a growing disparity among the classes that burglary and murder are on the rise. The result is also the growing distrust among people from neighbors to cab drivers to housemaids. We are forever in the pursuit of pelf trying to keep up with the joneses but we do not even know who the Joneses are.

I hate what my city has turned me into.

Is Sorry the Hardest Word?

Blue, along with Elton John, crooned that “Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word”. The failure to say a timely sorry is what is the main cause for bonds to break. Relationships that take so long to forge snap in just a second because someone had too much ego to admit his/her folly and say a simple sorry.

When we tread on someone’s foot, or if we are shoved against another person in the lift, or when we do anything intentionally that the other person is hurt or inconvenienced, we are quick to offer a sorry. But when one jumps to conclusions without verifying a fact, or is judgmental without knowing a person, or when one is involved in any action that causes a dear one hurt or pain, we are parsimonious with that little word willing rather to break the bond rather than admit that one was sorry for being the cause of the problem.

Why, indeed, is sorry the hardest word with the most loved one?

Drat! I am a Rat

Yesterday, I completed six years of service in my company. I had a mixed feeling of joy and disappointment. Joy for having had such a successful run with the company and disappointment because all the coworkers I had joined with had long left looking for greener pastures. This feeling of disappointment was fed into me by those who had left the company. Whenever they called or emailed and learned that I was still with the same company, they would feel sorry for me. To them, this translated to my own incompetency to find a cushier job.

In today’s world, the “L” word has lost its charm. Instead of being treated as a loyalist, you are treated as a loser. Instead of congratulations, you get commiserations from your co-workers. It’s considered no less than a crime to stay in any company for more than two years.

Nobody ever seems to be content with what they have. Instead of counting our blessings, we are forever chasing the bird in the bush. The endless pursuit of money to satiate our materialistic pleasures has left us discontent, disgruntled, and disoriented.

I read a cartoon once that the problem of being in a rat race is that even if you win the race, you are still a rat. Isn’t this is so true?

Happy to Help

Last evening, I had to visit the Vodafone showroom as I had some questions regarding my bill. The SMS charges were one rupee for all the messages sent out on Dec 31st and Jan 1st when they were supposed to have been for free. I had been warned by my sister not to send too many greetings on that day as many service providers had special rates for such occasions anticipating the traffic. Nevertheless, I was in a mood to pick a bone with the representative.

After waiting there for 10 minutes, I finally got to meet the rep. She asked me in her sweet tone how she can assist me. I presented her the hard copy of my bill and innocently asked her why I had been charged one rupee for the meesages sent out on those two days. She takes one look at my bll and says “Madam, those were special days.”

“So you charge more on special days?”

“Yes ma’m.”

“My plan tariff does not say anywhere even under a footnote that on special days I will be charged more. Nor did I get any intimation via an SMS alert about this.”

“Ma’m, all service providers do this.”

“So this is just some sort of cheap tactic you resort to make more money off users?”

“No ma’m, it’s not cheap.”

I had to almost suppress a grin when she said that because I knew she was not to blame for any of tjis but yet she had to put up with the likes of me as part of her job continuing to answer my questions, however stupid they were, in the same even tone.

“OK, then tell me how are the users to know which days you consider special? Or are they supposed to be your little secret?”

“Ma’m all holidays have special rates.”

“So if I wish a friend on Buddha Poornima, will it be a special rate?”

I don’t why of all festivals, I chose this one as I hardly even know a Buddhist.

“Ma’m, I can tell you the special days if you want to know.”

“Please do.”

“Dec 31st, Jan 1st, Valentine’s Day, Ugadi.”

And she stopped at that. I was surprised at the very short list when I knew they could add every little holiday and festival and make money off the users. Either she forgot the rest of the holidays or that was that.

“What about Christmas?”

“Yes ma’m, that’s also a special day.”

“Then what about Ramzan and Bakrid?”

“No ma’m, we do not have a special rate for that.”

I was about to say “but that’s discrimination, don’t you think?” I was simply enjoying this whole charade despite my increasing hunger but I thought the girl had had enough for a day and especially when there was only half hour more for her to call it a day. So I thanked her and left.

Even earlier, I had received a few erroneous bills but I was simply too lazy to spend my evening waiting for my turn to meet the rep and haggle over a few rupees. Despite their “Happy to Help” tag line, I have never received timely help or when I did, I was not too pleased with their service.

Their brand ambassador may well be a pug, which by the way owes its astronomical sum in the dog market to erstwhile Hutch, to signify loyalty. But their services show otherwise. If I were in an ad agency, the tag line I would have provided their competitor would have been “Unlike others, our services have not gone to the dogs.”

Celebrities or Conmen

A couple of months back, I saw a billboard on the way to work. It was an advert for Dove soap and the model was strikingly familiar. It was driving me crazy as I was sure I had met this girl but was not able to place her. None of my friends are from the P3 circuit, so how come she seemed so familiar? I racked my brain for a week and was almost going to give up when a friend called and asked if I had seen the Dove ad and if I remembered that girl. I had been introduced to this girl at a party by this same friend a few months back.

She was studying architecture from my alumnus. A petite girl who was well under 5 feet despite her 3” heels. Being born to a Pathan father and a Punjabi mother, she had a porcelain, blemish-free complexion (with or without the use of Dove soap). She had a tight-lipped smile as she was conscious of the wide gap between her front two teeth. But the billboard shows her grinning flashing the gap and yet making her look super-confident.

This is the latest trend in advertising. The models are no more hunks or hot chicks with chiseled looks and a body to kill for but your next-door boy or girl with less-than-average looks and even a bit of flab and even freckles. The billboards of Uninor show such people to strike a chord with the public. The idea behind this that when the commoner looks at such a billboard, he/she relates to that person more than if it were a celebrity. A celebrity with size-zero figure and blemish-free complexion only drives people into desperation about their own shortcomings.

Sports stars and actors who raked in millions with endorsements as their first career are coming under fire for endorsing products without knowing the ill-effects of their use. Ajith, a popular Tamil Actor, outright refused to promote a popular fizz drink and instead chose to endorse a coffee brand. Do we have such conscientious stars left in the world?

After the recent Tiger Woods fiasco, popular brands are giving a serious thought on whom they choose as their brand ambassador. Accenture had to hastily terminate its contract with Tiger Woods to save face. My sister, who is with Accenture, told me that all their presentation slides which had Tiger Woods in the background had to be removed before sending it to their clients. One purging for another’s folly!

The Supreme Court has even gone as far as to say that it will verify the tall claims of the products such as Maggi which says “taste bhi, health bhi” or Horlicks that promises children growing much taller on drinking it regularly and penalize the companies if their claims were found to be false.

A guy recently filed a case against the popular deo brand, Axe, because he never got lucky with women not once even after using the product for more than six years. While in the recent ad, the axe effect not only turns on the woman in the elevator but also a man and a transvestite.

Do we blame the celebrities for refusing to check the authenticity of the products they endorse or are we to blame for getting so carried away by the false claims? As they say, as long as people are willing to get conned, there will be conmen.

Drink, Drive, Die

The recent road accident in Mumbai caused by a 27-year old drunken woman has sent shockwaves across the country. The irony was that she mowed down police officers who were conducting breathalyzer tests to curb such accidents. What is more shocking is her confession that not only had she two pegs to drink at a pub but was trying to take a swig from her beer can while ripping in her CRV at 120 kms/ hour when she ran over two cops—killing one and seriously injuring another.

Drinking and driving is hardly uncommon in India. Despite the traffic cops’ various initiatives and strict penalization to one of the crimes that claims more lives in the country every year, more and more youngsters who have easy money and flashy cars turn into delinquents first by consuming alcohol and getting behind the wheel and then turn into cold-blooded murders by plowing their fancy wheels onto innocent people who had left their home intending to return to their loved ones.

So what is it that causes people to drink and drive? Is it simply for kicks or is it to show off that you can hold your liquor? And at what price? At the cost of someone’s life? Thanks to the Indian judiciary the adage that justice delayed is justice denied is always proved right. While the media sensationalizes the news the first few times, it is all but forgotten in a few weeks time. The offenders walk away scot-free with faces hung down to show their remorse while accosted by the best criminal lawyers their money could buy.

The BMW incident (rehashed in the hit movie Dev D), or the Salman Khan-Kamal Khan road accident that claimed a few lives (thanks to Salman’s excellent PR, he remains in the news for all the wrong reasons), or even the recent road tragedy in Bangalore where a young executive of a reputed IT company driving on the wrong side of the road ran over an old man who had set out for his constitutional is all but forgotten in the public’s mind.

When I was in my first job, I ran over a girl. I was on my way to work and so was she (but apparently she was already late) and dashed across teh road from nowhere and right into my bike. I braked but by then the front wheel of my bike had run over her left leg. While I fell off my bike and was wondering what caused the fall (accidents happen in a jiffy), the girl was up on her feet, tapped her feet and ran across the road as if nothing had really happened. I was not hurt but just shocked at what just happened.

Even today, I am plagued by that incident. She could not have been more than 15 years old and I surmised that she was working in one of the nearby garment factories where a minute’s delay results in a loss of a day’s pay. It was the only time in my life when I had to inadvertently run over a person. I feel bad that I did not offer her help by taking her to a doctor or asking if she was okay. She had disappeared by the time I got my bike up. But I still wonder if her leg was badly hurt or how she endured the day at work being in so much pain.

The irony is that we live in a world where we would at least brake for a dog that is undecided about its destination but not for a fellow human being who is hurrying over to his/her destination. And our first reflexes on hitting someone is to flee and not pausing to find out if that person is okay and if he/she needs help. The most pathetic of all things that we are witnessing today is the lack of empathy and the rise of apathy for our own species.

Weighty Issues

When we women are not obsessing about our age, we are busy obsessing about our weight. If the word “aunty” hurts, the word “fatty” kills us! Like we are not burdened with enough weighty issues as we grow older, weight itself becomes an issue to some of us. I do watch my weight……………………..increase by the day.

When a man gets fatter, it is deemed as a sign of success. People say, “he must be doing very well for himself” and even congratulate him on looking so well. But if it is a woman, they will say, “lazy woman must be doing nothing that is why she’s becoming a cow” and if you are single and fat, they will say, “Oh poor dear, she must be in depression and must be seeking comfort in food”. What double standards!

Last week I met my college friend and she greeted me with “hey, you have become so fat!” The same friend, when I met her two years back, said that I looked just like I was in college. How much can change in so little a time? Where did all the fat come from?

But last month, when two of my school buds and I jammed up over coffee, I was delighted to hear and see that I have not changed as much as they! They made pears look slimmer! They are single but are doing well, so what does all the excessive fat signify: happiness, or laziness, or depression!

Two contradicting remarks, so does this prove that I am fat or not? Einstein would have agreed with me that being fat is just a theory of relativity. Your being fat or slim depends on your companion. If you are in a company of fat people, you feel you are slim but if you are in a company of those stick insects, you feel like a big bug and wish to be squished. There I have proved my theory!

Now another friend is coming down from the UK next month and I have decided to shed a few grams coz another remark of “fatty” is too much for my weak heart!

I never thought that meeting old friends would turn into a harrowing ordeal. So here’s my tip to others: Always do your homework. Ask your friends to send you their pictures, so you can decide whether you will get busy when they are visiting (if they are on the right side of the scales) or not! But again, if they are smarter than thou, they will most probably send you long-shot picture or some other pic taken during their slim days.