Isis

2007-04-17T12:27:00.000+05:30

Axe the Effect

Sex sells. Or so the Axe Effect advertisements have proved. Drawing their ‘target group’ of 18 to 24 year olds in with advertisements filled with sexual innuendos, these advertisements assure seduction. Axe has become the top selling male deodorant body spray probably because the advertisements stimulate the desired response. The response merely being the purchasing power of the consumer. But at what cost? Rather, at whose cost?

Here is the latest revelation – a postcard that one can find in the Cards4U section, placed in almost all coffee shops in the city. These cards are not for sale and are available free. An offence of sorts for some. A sizzler for many.

The postcard

[Front]

Visual: Bust shot of a girl smiling – the ‘naughty’ librarian. She has been tagged with the label – ‘MOLESTED’ written in bright red across her chest.

A bold disclaimer that states: Any information regarding this matter contact www.axeeffect.com.

[Back]

HUNDREDS OF MEN with a feather duster, a library stamp and a pot of honey. Considered HOT and DANGEROUS. If you SEE this DIRTY LIBRARIAN call the AUTHORITIES IMMEDIATELY.

‘Reward’ offered for the information leading to the arrest and conviction of this good girl turned naughty and the girl crime wave sweeping the city. Axe users are cautioned to approach suspects with extreme care.

The key words are in bold. Read them aloud and think for yourself. Another one in the series reads:

[Front]

Visual: A bust shot of a schoolgirl in two braids with a stamp “ABDUCTED” against her chest. The same disclaimer follows.

[Back]

Schoolgirl ABDUCTED three men covered them in whipped cream and spanked them silly in the locker room. Still at large, Victims are breathless, but otherwise unharmed.

For those who aren’t tickled yet – check out www.axefeather.com.

According to the Oxford dictionary, to Molest means to meddle hostilely or injuriously with a person. It originates from the word molestus, which means troublesome. The usage of the word in context of the advertisement, backed by the visual and the base line is obviously suggestive and ensures that the reader is thinking on the same track.

This is not the first such ad. People who wear Axe are shown being attacked by multiple women. In mid-2004, an advertisement featured two frogs engaging in sexual intercourse. The ad also featured a man and a woman about to engage in the same. This advertisement has been revoked. In early 2006, Axe began marketing a body wash via a fictitious cult that helps men cleanse their bodies and conscience from questionable casual sexual encounters. Axe Snake Peel is described as the “Sanctioned shower scrub of The Order of The Serpentine”. One of the slogans for this campaign is “How Dirty Boys Get Clean.” Another ad shows an empty shower with a sign that reads, “Occupancy by more than five persons is dangerous and unlawful.” Another of Axe’s tag lines reads: “It can happen anywhere. The Axe Effect.” The visuals that accompany this consist of a woman’s bare back imprinted with the shape of a hanger or an elevator key pad or a steering wheel or anything else she might have been smashed up against during spontaneous snuggling, canoodling or going-all-the-way.

Sex surely sells at this rate. With so many ‘successful’ campaigns, Axe surely has hit the nail on the head. On another level, what does it have to do with the deodorant? This type of sexualized advertising fuels lustful fantasies among young men and almost sounds like it promotes deviant sexual behavior. By instructing men to regard women’s bodies as objects, these ubiquitous images help create an atmosphere that devalues women as people, reinforce stereotypes of women as objects of sexual gratification, encourage sexual harassment, and worse. These commercials promote social sculpting through the degradation of women. The Axe marketing honchos tell the media it is all tongue-in-cheek, not serious, girls are in the joke, etc. We all know that is not true. If it were, it would indicate the birth of a depraved society that can find such a blatant insult to womanhood a laughing matter. That in itself is a cause for concern.

Section 509 of the Indian Penal Code authorizes a punishment of simple imprisonment for a term that may extend to one year, or with fine, or both, for anyone uttering a word, or performing a gesture or act intended to insult the modesty of a woman. The Axe ads quite explicitly do both. Yet, no action has been taken. Instead, these ads have come in for public acclaim world over, and have been termed adventurous and unconventional.

The laws are written. They are merely just waiting to be implemented. It really is about the society being the hammer or the nail.

[Written with Ekta, without whose infectious enthusiasm, this campaign would never have taken off]

2007-03-26T15:23:00.000+05:30

If there was an earthquake, and your house was collapsing, and you had to leave, and were allowed to take just 3 things with you, what would they be?

2007-02-13T14:55:00.000+05:30

“Bought your girlfriend flowers although you know she’s allergic to them? Can’t think of anything except chocolates even though she’s on a diet? Log onto blah blah blah dot com and get innovative ideas for a Valentine’s day gift!”

When The Beatles sang "Money Can't Buy Me Love", they had no clue about Hallmark moments that would set the template and price for emotions. Since Esther Howland, the woman who produced the first commercial American valentines in the 1840s, sold a then mind-boggling $5,000 in cards during her first year of business, the valentine industry has been booming. People now believe that Valentine's Day announces your place in life, declares your popularity publicly and assesses your worth, and, from being a bonanza only for card companies, this “occasion” has blossomed into a day of immense profit for entrepreneurs in all fields, ranging from estate agents (“This Valentine’s day, gift her something she’ll treasure forever. Gift her a Mantri home”) to diamond merchants (“A diamond is forever”) to horticulturists (“Today’s headlines– 50 million rose buds exported to foreign shores for Valentine’s Day”) to the music industry (“Top ten romantic albums – only Rs.1999”) to tour operators (“The Perfect Valentine's Day Gift - A Tour of the Seven Wonders”) to fitness clubs (“This Valentine’s Day, lose that extra weight, and make him fall in love with you all over again”) to mobile network operators (“Romantic wallpapers, pictures and caller tunes. For more details, visit Hutchworld”) to the ever popular Worldspace (“Make every day Valentine’s Day. Gift your lover a Worldspace today” to your neighbourhood supermarket (“Offers to fall in love with this Valentine’s Day”) to websites packed with information on do's and don'ts for Valentine's Day.

In this rat race to outdo each other in buying the “perfect” gift, the reason behind the existence of this day has been conveniently forgotten.

* Fade into flashback mode *

Under the rule of Emperor Claudius II, Rome was involved in many bloody and unpopular campaigns. Claudius the Cruel was having a difficult time getting soldiers to join his military leagues, and had determined that married men made poor soldiers. So he banned marriage from his empire. But Valentine would secretly marry young men that came to him. When Claudius found out about Valentine, he first tried to convert him to paganism. But Valentine reversed the strategy, trying instead to convert Claudius. When he failed, he was stoned and beheaded.
During the days that Valentine was imprisoned, he fell in love with the blind daughter of his jailer. His love for her, and his great faith, managed to miraculously heal her from her blindness before his death. Before he was taken to his death, he signed a farewell message to her, "From your Valentine." The phrase has been used on his day ever since.

* Fade back into today *

Love. THAT’S what its all about. Not cheap tawdry commercialisation of overblown sentimentality commemorated by the purchase of half wilted flowers and tacky cards.

2007-01-18T15:00:00.000+05:30

I regret deleting my old blog. Somehow, the people there were different. They actually cared. Even if they didn't, they pretended to. And that's what made the blog tick, made me feel like writing. There's nobody here who cares. I wonder why.

The comment made by my esteemed co author on the previous post has made me curious - what DO the people who visit this blog care about?

You don't care for reviews, ergo you aren't interested in sampling varied books or movies, social, developmental or civic issues are an apparent no no, you don't care about plays or other such so called "yo" activities, you don't see beyond your own selfish needs and means, and beyond your secluded localities, so any talk of anything away from these is not acceptable, so what do you care about?

Tell me. I'd like to know.

2006-12-30T13:39:00.000+05:30

Open subject of discussion.

Do you think that in their haste to establish a democracy in Iraq, the US has made an erroneous decision in having Saddam executed, and has instead elevated him to the status of a martyr to his cause?

2006-12-23T17:01:00.000+05:30

Calvin: What's it like to fall in love?

Hobbes: Well... Say the object of your affection walks by...

Calvin: Yeah?

Hobbes: First, your heart falls into your stomach and splashes your innards. All the moisture makes you sweat profusely. This condensation shorts the circuits to your brain, and you get all woozy. When your brain burns out altogether, your mouth disengages and you babble like a cretin until she leaves.

Calvin: That's love?!?

Hobbes: Medically speaking.

Calvin: Heck, that happened to me once, but I figured it was cooties!

The Essential Calvin and Hobbes, p57

2006-12-18T16:12:00.000+05:30

Woohoo!

Manu Sharma convicted.

Two down, a little more than a million to go.

P.S. This has nothing to do with the above post, but I still need to say it. A special thank you to someone who took the trouble to restore something that means a lot to me, and that I thought I'd lost forever. I owe you.

Edit: I wonder how Shayan Munshi sleeps, knowing that, by retracting his evidence when it was most needed, he let a murderer walk away unscathed.

2006-12-11T05:44:00.000+05:30

All right, this is more like it. Ladies and gentlemen, I shall be your substitute host for this evening, since our dear Pollyanna (bless her little posting-privilege-granting heart) has recently come down with a tragic case of super boring.

In keeping with previous entries, we're still going to talk about movies though. I am not sure whether this movie has opened in India yet, we still don't have it where I am living currently, but it is called "Happy Feet" and it is about a feisty little emperor penguin that will dance his way into your heart! Or, well, something like that.

Good, bad, I don't know yet, I haven't seen it, that's not the point. The point is this: click to see youtube video.

Apparently, since the movie is about penguins and thus takes place in the Antarctic, the makers worked in a few messages about environmental awareness, specifically about global warming and the polar ice caps. And boy, some right-wing nutjobs in America are PISSED OFF about it. How dare they market "animated propaganda" to our kids, they ask? There should be a warning on the film so that parents know that their children are going to be bombarded with those sneaky environmental activist messages! After all, it's just a children's movie, and any messages indoctrinating them to this "green" point of view are wholly inappropriate and have no place in a kids' film.

Er, what? It's suddenly a bad thing now to tell a tale to children that has a moral anywhere in it? Oh, wait, only when it disagrees with how Big Industry is paying you Republican bastards to think, that's right, I forgot.

Discuss.

2006-12-01T16:31:00.000+05:30

Today, World AIDS Day, is an opportunity for people worldwide to unite in the fight against HIV and AIDS.

Help make the world a better place.

2006-11-15T17:51:00.000+05:30

"I've never been alone with a man before, even with my dress on. With my dress off, it's MOST unusual."

The 1953 movie “Roman Holiday”, starring Audrey Hepburn, in her first feature role, and Gregory Peck, is a charming and captivating fairytale romance shot entirely on location in Rome. The film's bittersweet story is a charming romantic-comedy, and is reportedly based on the real life Italian adventures of the British Princess Margaret.

Princess Anne, a member of the royal family of an unnamed European country, embarks on a highly publicized goodwill tour of European capitals. By the time she and her royal entourage arrive in Rome, she begins to rebel against her restricted and regimental schedule. To escape the endless tedium of the many ceremonial occasions she is expected to attend and experience life beyond the claustrophobic confines of her royal position, Anne sneaks out of her room at the Embassy, hops into the back of a delivery truck and escapes her luxurious confinement. However, a sedative she was forced to take earlier starts to take effect, and the princess is soon fast asleep on a public bench. There she is found by Joe Bradley, an American newspaper reporter stationed in Rome. Not knowing who she is, he is chivalrous enough to take her home to his apartment, where she spends the night.

The next morning Joe dashes off to cover the Princess Anne press conference, unaware that she is sleeping on his couch! Once he realizes his good fortune, Joe promises his editor an exclusive interview with the princess and the story of her illicit flight.

Blissfully unaware of the fact that she has been discovered, Princess Anne pretends to be a common tourist named Anya Smith. Anya and Joe manage to do just about every fun thing there is to do in Rome in twenty four hours. At first, it's all about the money and fame, but in the end, he just can't make himself blow the lid off her day of adventure.

The film received a phenomenal ten Academy Award nominations for a comedy, and received three, namely Best Actress, Best Original Story and Best Black and White Costume Design.

The film is full of romance, good humour and stellar performances. Audrey Hepburn is positively peerless. If you're looking for a realistic and entertaining romance, Roman Holiday is a must see.

2006-10-27T08:53:00.000+05:30

Interesting. Very interesting.

2006-10-22T11:39:00.000+05:30

2006-10-18T18:12:00.000+05:30

VOICES is staging a P. Lankesh play, translated into English by Prakash Belawadi, on Wednesday, the 25th October, at 7.30 pm, in Ravindra Kalashetra. This play is part of Kannada Rangabhoomi Namaskara!, a festival of six plays inEnglish by leading Kannada playwrights.

Directed by Ashish Sen, "Nanna Tangigondu Gandu Kodi" exposes the correlation of power and politics with relationships. Kamala, the daughter of a prominent minister has been set up to marry Ranganna by her family. The play explores the conflict in the lead up to her marriage, that ultimately becomes an issue of property, and of hidden truths that spill out as play unfolds. In trying to forget the past, escape the present and finding solutions for the future, each character struggles through their own versions of truth.

Be there to reminisce P. Lankesh's works. Tickets available at VOICES. Contact Amena: 98801-66386 or Ekta: 98807-55875

Regards

Team VOICES

2006-10-18T12:09:00.000+05:30

While doing some research on worldwide persecution of disabled people, I came across this nauseating reality.

The Nazi persecution of persons with disabilities in Germany during the Third Reich was one component of their radical public health policies, aimed at excluding hereditarily "unfit" Germans from the national community. All of this was part of the realization of a biomedical vision, which imagined a racially and genetically pure and productive society, an "Aryan master race", and embraced unthinkable strategies to eliminate those who did not fit within that vision.

The "Law for the Prevention of Progeny with Hereditary Diseases", proclaimed July 14, 1933, forced the sterilization of all persons who suffered from diseases considered hereditary, such as mental illness (schizophrenia and manic depression), "congenital feeble-mindedness"(retardation), physical deformity, epilepsy, blindness, deafness, and severe alcoholism, stating that “countless numbers of inferiors and those suffering from hereditary conditions are reproducing unrestrainedly while their sick and asocial offspring burden the community”. Nazi propaganda in the form of posters, news reels and films portrayed disabled people as "useless eaters" and people who had "lives unworthy of living". The propaganda stressed the high cost of supporting disabled people, and suggested that there was something unhealthy or even unnatural about society paying for this. The ideological justification conceived by medical perpetrators for their destruction was also applied to other categories of "biological enemies", most notably to Jews and homosexuals.

Under a secret plan called the “T4 Programme”, these strategies began with forced sterilization and escalated toward mass murder. The most extreme measure, Final Solution, the Euthanasia Programme, which empowered physicians to exterminate the mentally ill and the handicapped using lethal injections or poison gas, was in itself a rehearsal for Nazi Germany's broader genocidal policies. Meticulous records discovered after the war documented 70,273 deaths by gassing at the six "euthanasia" centres between January 1940 and August 1941. Hitler ordered the suspension of the programme in 1941 after opposition from groups within Germany, including Catholic churchmen. However, killings were restarted the following year in a more secretive way, and continued until the end of World War Two.

It is estimated that a total of 2,75,000 adults and children were murdered because of their disabilities!

Was there no limit to their despotism? How could anyone stoop so low as to wage war on a group of weakened and hapless people, whose only fault is that, due to some freak disease or genetic defect, they are different?

2006-10-16T05:44:00.000+05:30

“You think I'm an ignorant "savage" and you've been so many places; I guess it must be so, but still I cannot see if the savage one is me. How can there be so much that you don't know? You don't know.”

With the 1995 movie “Pocahontas”, the artists at Disney once again proved that when it comes to animation, no can hold a candle to them.

The story revolves around a young woman, Pocahontas, the daughter of the Chief of the Powhatan tribe settled in Virginia. Her father wants her to marry a fierce warrior she finds too serious. A dream about a spinning arrow leads Pocahontas to believe it is her destiny to meet another man. She does. A British settler, Captain John Smith, commissioned by the gold hungry Governor Ratcliffe, sets sail with his crew for the New World. The Indians and the Englishmen are instinctively enemies, but when Pocahontas and Smith meet, despite their initial cultural conflicts, they are strangely drawn to each other. As you might expect, they fall in love, but to make their relationship work, the couple must find a way to bridge their two cultures. For Pocahontas, this is made more difficult by her father's express command that she should stay away from the white men, and there are times when she backs out, but this only makes the storyline more engaging.

The movie won two Academy Awards: for Best Original Music and for Best Original Song, "Colors of the Wind".

Unusually for a Disney animated film, Pocahontas is actually loosely based on a true story, and came in for a lot of criticism during its theatrical run due to Disney's stance as historical revisionist. To be fair though, a Disney film is not likely to be the place for historical accuracy, ultimately its aim is to entertain people, especially children, and this film does that brilliantly.

The movie is worth seeing simply for the widely diverse characters and the incredible soundtrack, and while it may not be one of the top ten greatest animated features ever made, it is beautiful to behold, sentimental, and heartwarming.

2006-10-12T05:18:00.000+05:30

And…..I’m tagged AGAIN!

Only doing this one ought to be fun, if only to prove to a certain someone that there actually are things to do in my dear Bangalore.

So here goes.

5 of my favourite things to do in this city:

Sitting in a corner of Landmark and reading book after book, without having to buy any of them. (Yes. I’m a nerd. Get over it.)
People watching at Infinitea, while pigging out on momos and hot lemon tea (yum yum yum).
Going for concerts and plays at the Chowdiah Memorial Hall, with its absolutely superb acoustics.
Traipsing through the back streets of Commercial Street, and eating dahi puri covered with saunth.
Playing Scrabble at the Barista next door to William Penn.

Wtmewry, Duh Goddess, Lalbadshah and Malaveeka, you are now tagged.

2006-10-09T20:18:00.000+05:30

"You see, Pige, when you’re footloose and collar free, you take nothing but the best."

Disney's 1955 cartoon, "Lady and the Tramp", is not only one of Disney's most engaging films, it's also one of their most exquisitely done. The movie proves as endearing today as the first time it appeared so many years ago.

The moviemakers preface the film with a remark from nineteenth-century American humorist Josh Billings: "In the whole history of the world there is but one thing that money can not buy.….to wit - the wag of a dog's tale."

Lady is a beautiful, pampered, little brown-and-white purebred cocker spaniel raised from a puppy by an upper middle class American couple, Jim Dear and Darling. Lady's best friends are the neighbourhood dogs, a Scottish terrier named Jock and old bloodhound named Trusty. Everything goes swimmingly for the Lady and the family, until Jim Dear and Darling have a baby, and Lady starts feeling left out.

Things get even worse a few months later when Jim Dear and Darling head off on a trip, and the not so friendly Aunt Sarah arrives to babysit. She’s not a dog person, and she’s brought along Lady’s archenemies – her fiendish cats, Si and Am. Naturally, trouble ensues, and after being muzzled and banished to the doghouse outside, Lady runs away. She’s on her own in the scary city, until she meets Tramp, a dog from the other side of the tracks. He’s a streetwise mutt with none of Lady’s style, but a heart of gold. Soon, a romance blooms between the two dogs, which leads to many romantic scenes, including the scene where they share an Italian dinner and connect through a single strand of spaghetti, which has been copied in so many other movies after it.

On the whole, "Lady and the Tramp" is one of Disney's most appealing and enduring animated films, told with a creative dog's eye view of the world.

"So it is to all dogs.....be they ladies or tramps that this picture is dedicated"

2006-10-05T21:52:00.000+05:30

The debate on the Right to Death has been renewed with the filing of a Public Interest Litigation petition by Nikhil Soni against the controversial custom of Santhara, the ancient Jain ritual of voluntary non-violent abnegation of one's physical body by giving up food and water. Mr. Soni sought legal intervention to ban the practice and make it illegal as in the case of suicide.

Under Section 309 of the Indian Penal Code, an attempt to commit suicide is punishable with a minimum sentence of a year’s imprisonment. The validity of Section 309 has often been challenged in courts of law. Our Constitution sanctions the Right to Life. Article 21 states a person cannot be denied right to life "except in accordance with procedures defined by law". The question remains as to whether the right to die is inherent in the right to life. Suicide is an unnatural termination of life, and therefore incompatible and inconsistent with the concept of a right to die.

Supporters of the practice are at pains to explain how the concept of Santhara is different from suicide. In contrast to suicide, which is viewed as a violent self-killing, and as emotional and hasty, Santhara is the non-violent self-termination of living "when all purposes of life have been served or the body becomes unable to serve any purpose'', and is a rite that takes place in public and is sanctioned amidst religious sermons. It is not to be adopted in the hope of acquiring either fame, a position in society, divine status or to get rid of physical pains. Also, unlike suicide, Santhara is reversible. A person undergoing Santhara is free to take food and return to normal life at any stage.

The Right to Life includes the right to live with human dignity, and guarantees the existence of such a right up to the end of natural life. This also includes the right to a dignified life up to the point of death, including a dignified procedure of death. Many of those who embrace Santhara are either terminally ill or geriatric, and Santhara is just a refined, courageous and peaceful way of confronting imminent death and of embracing it through resolve and penance, before they are faced either by excruciating pain, loss of faculties, or complete dependence on their relatives.

I know choosing death over life is abhorrent to people in most cultures, but can a custom like Santhara that is essentially a merciful emancipation from what could be a terrible death be clubbed under suicide?

2006-10-02T13:28:00.000+05:30

‘That fool of a fairy Lucinda did not intend to lay a curse on me. She meant to bestow a gift. When I cried inconsolably through my first hour of life, my tears were her inspiration. Shaking her head sympathetically at Mother, the fairy touched my nose. “My gift is obedience. Ella will always be obedient. Now stop crying, child.” I stopped.’

The 1998 Newberry Honor Book, “Ella Enchanted” by Gail Carson Levine is the engaging story of a girl named Ella of Frell, who at birth receives a fateful gift of obedience from the fairy Lucinda. Ella has to obey an order, any order, be it to hop on one foot all day, or even to chop off her own head, a fact her scheming stepmother, Dame Olga, and her dimwitted and unattractive stepsisters, Hattie and Olive, make ample use of at every opportunity.

But Ella grows up with a mind of her own, and a great sense of humour. She is determined to find the fairy who bestowed this gift on her, to beg her to take it back. The action moves from Ella’s home, where she is treated like a slave by the trio each time her father is away on business, to the fashionable finishing school from where she runs away to avert having to end her friendship with Areida, her closest friend, at the behest of the jealous Hattie, across a land peopled with ogres, giants, elves and other exotic creatures. On her way to a giant's farm where rumour has it Luncinda is staying, she is attacked by ogres. She helps her childhood friend, Prince Charmont of Frell, pacify the ogres, and continues on her quest, leaving the prince in love with her.

But her quest for Lucinda is unsuccessful. She is doomed to return home to misery and servitude. She loves Prince Charmont too, but cannot marry him, because she knows that her gift, or perhaps it should be termed a curse, of obedience could put Char and the whole realm of Frell in danger. How Ella breaks the curse by her own strength of will, and saves not only herself, but also Prince Char, comprises the rest of this delightful book.

“Ella Enchanted” is Gail Levine's first book written for children, although she has published many other books. Although the plot was inspired by Cinderella, with all the original story’s trappings, the characters are more realistic, Ella certainly isn’t a goody two shoes like Cinderella, and the plot is definitely more enthralling than the original story. The book has romance, fantasy, and adventure in the right measures. If you like fantasy and love stories, this is the perfect book for you.

2006-09-25T20:26:00.000+05:30

"YOU SHALL BE ORDINARY."

So proclaimed the fairy Crustacea at the christening of Her Serene Royal Highness, Amethyst Alexandra Augusta Araminta Adelaide Aurelia Anne.

And ordinary she was. With mousy brown hair, a turned-up nose and freckles, Princess Amy was nothing like her six blonde, beautiful princess sisters. She was so ordinary in fact that no prince could be found to marry her.

But that didn't bother Amy. Who wanted to marry a stuffy old prince, anyway? Amy had other ideas about how to spend her life. Like running off to the forest.....and an enchanting adventure all her own.

“The Ordinary Princess” by M.M.Kaye was written, as the author claims in her foreword, “many moons ago under an apple tree in an orchard in Kent, which is one of England's prettiest countries”, and is an enchanting fairy tale, with a bit of a twist. As a child, this was one of my favourite books, along with “Pollyanna” by Eleanor H Porter and “Ella Enchanted” by Gail Carson Levine.

“The Ordinary Princess” is the story of the seventh daughter of the great-great-great grandson of Sleeping Beauty, the King Hulderbrand of Phantasmorania and his Queen Rodehesia, Princess Amethyst, or Amy, as everyone begins to call her. On the day of her christening, along with such gifts as Wit, Charm, Courage, Wisdom, Health, and Grace from other fairies, Princess Amy receives an unusual gift from the fairy Crustacea: Ordinariness.

And ordinary she is, gawky, snub-nosed and freckled, with mouse-colored hair, and absolutely no interest in “princessy” occupations such as playing the harp, embroidering tapestries.....or becoming a Queen. Her mother tries everything to make Amy a stunning beauty, but with no success. One by one her six sisters, with their blue eyes and blonde hair, marry, and then it is Amy's turn, but no one wants an ordinary princess, no matter how charming or courageous.

When the Lord High Chamberlain suggests renting a dragon to attract suitors, Amy is outraged. She decides to run away and live in the forest with her friends Mr. Pemberthy and Peter Aurelious (a squirrel and a crow!). But staying in the woods does not hold well with keeping one’s clothes from becoming tattered. So she finds work as the fourteen assistant kitchen maid in the castle at Ambergeldar, the neighboring kingdom, doing dishes, peeling potatoes and whatnot. There she meets Peregrine, a remarkable young man, “ordinary” like herself.

As for what comes next, find out yourself.

No erudite or confusing tome, this. It has been written in such a simple and straightforward manner that anyone can comprehend it. The book completely captures your imagination. A quick read at 128 pages, and well worth your time.

2006-09-22T11:25:00.000+05:30

The word ‘secular’ is a cliché feverishly used at international congregations by the powers that be to depict the quintessential Indian and the attitude of acceptance that is characteristic of our nation.

And yet a sporadic outbreak of communal violence is the most accepted excuse for violence in our country. We console ourselves by fueling the conviction that a citizenry so diverse in composition must occasionally be diverse in interests. It is then but natural that a conflict of interests should lead to violence as the “rational” means of settling these differences. If this is not deemed as adequate basis to start a crusade, the rampant inequality and discrimination in the employment sector should unquestionably justify one community’s envy of another’s wealth and status sufficiently.

It may not even be communalism that fuels these acts of violence. Religion and poverty sustain politics. If poverty was eradicated and religious disparity suitably decoded, politicians would have to run their campaigns on basic integrity, a quality that is rather elusive to minds accustomed to corruption, exploitation and bribery.

In these troubled times where disasters strike repeatedly and unexpectedly, and livelihoods built up over generations are being literally washed away, each of us can do our bit in eradicating communalism, by living out our lives alongside our neighbours in perfect harmony, by accepting the fact that there is a need to know and trust each other, and place this need above any other possible bias, by overlooking the religious aspect of a festival and viewing it as a celebration, by embracing others during a tragedy, not because they are of our religion, but because they are human.

2006-09-20T15:05:00.000+05:30

Despite being an ardent Steve Irwin fan myself, I honestly think this is just plain repulsive. I don't think these so called fans recall Steve's love for wildlife or the fact that he would have been appalled at the prospect of a harmless life form being mutilated on his account.

2006-09-18T16:57:00.000+05:30

The Mother of All Disclaimers

This product is meant for educational purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Void where prohibited. Some assembly required. Batteries not included. Contents may settle during shipment. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Postage will be paid by addressee. This is not an offer to sell securities. Apply only to affected area. May be too intense for some viewers. Do not stamp. For recreational use only. All models over 18 years of age. No user-serviceable parts inside. Freshest if eaten before date on carton. Subject to change without notice. Times approximate. Simulated picture. No postage necessary if mailed in the United States. Breaking seal constitutes acceptance of agreement. For off-road use only. As seen on TV. One size fits all. Contains a substantial amount of non-tobacco ingredients. Colors may, in time, fade. We have sent the forms which seem to be right for you. Slippery when wet. For official use only. Edited for television. Keep in a cool, dry place. Post office will not deliver without postage. Not responsible for direct, indirect, incidental or consequential damages resulting from any defect, error or failure to perform. At participating locations only. Not the Beatles. Penalty for private use. Substantial penalty for early withdrawal. Do not write below this line. Lost ticket pays maximum rate. Avoid contact with skin. Sanitized for your protection. Employees and their families are not eligible. Contestants have been briefed on some questions before the show. Limited time offer, call now to insure prompt delivery. You must be present to win. No passes accepted for this engagement. No purchase necessary. Processed at location stamped in code at top of carton. Use only in well-ventilated area. Keep away from fire or flame. Replace with same type. Approved for veterans. Some equipment shown is optional. Price does not include taxes. No Canadian coins. Not recommended for children. Reproduction strictly prohibited. No solicitors. No alcohol, dogs or horses. Restaurant package, not for resale. Call toll free before digging. Driver does not carry cash. This supersedes all previous notices. So there.

2006-09-15T20:20:00.000+05:30

“Dollar Bahu” is the English translation of one of Sudha Murty’s most popular novels “Dollar Sose”, originally written in Kannada and earlier translated into four other Indian languages.

Like most other novels of Sudha Murty, this novel too dwells on the aspirations, dreams and struggles of traditional middle–class Indian families - this time vividly portraying the promise of plenty that the US dollar holds for the Indian steeped in middle–class mundane living.

The story weaves the tapestry of the life of Gauramma, torn between her roots in Bangalore and her unstinted admiration for the life led by her US based son Chandru and daughter–in–law Jamuna. Her blind obsession for the dollar and her “dollar bahu” disrupts the harmony in the household, and prompts her to constantly make comparisons and belittle Vinuta and Girish, the daughter–in–law and son who live in India. Gauramma’s visit to the United States to baby-sit her new granddaughter Manasi (in the manner of most grandparents today, all parents of non – resident Indians!) sees the crumbling of the many illusions she has about that country. The façade stripped, she notices the callousness, the selfish goals, the hunger for prosperity, status and the green card that consumes the Indians there, leaving them very little time for family affection and bonding. She returns disillusioned and chastened, seeing in a new light the sincerity of her family left in India. All that the dollar symbolizes ultimately loses its lustre, and makes way for contentment with the rupee.

Although written in Sudha Murthy's usual self righteous manner, the book is definitely worth a one time breeze through. Not for those who think America's the man-made paradise on earth though!

2006-09-14T13:22:00.000+05:30

Here's to

- a brand new template that looks absolutely terrific.

- Lalbadshah, without whom this could never have been done.

- Sickboy, for his constructive criticism.

- ME, for actually surviving so much code and not screwing up too badly.

- my readers, without whom this blog would have absolutely no character.

*clink of glasses* CHEERS!

2006-09-11T13:03:00.000+05:30

Although I've taken a long time actually getting down to doing it, I would like to respond to this self righteous piece of tripe, if only to give me something to do so i can appear busy while actually procrastinating at work. All consideration shall be given to the fact that it has probably been written while suffering the pangs of unrequited love, and in an attempt to lash out in the proverbial sour grapes manner. However, on behalf of all members of my sex, this is an affront that just cannot be allowed to pass so easily.

And off we go.

The “one never knows what women mean or think or feel” bit is not a novelty. Of course the reason men feel that way is probably because they’re too busy doing something else instead of actually paying attention to what is being said, because most women certainly don’t talk in any sort of alien language, but that’s just one of those things that constitute the vast difference between men and women, so I’ll just let that one pass without too much comment. Interpreting it would be about as interesting as trying to figure out the logistics of why fried eggs will not stick to a Teflon coated pan. I do not however abide with insinuations that women don't set store by basic values such as like honesty, transparency, selflessness and the like, or that they are in the habit of going back on their word. I'm not saying all men are rotters, but I have found that they are far more likely to betray trust, and, in addition, are adept at circumventing all criticism on the issue by constituting their own interpretations of the self same concepts so that they can deny having violated them with wide eyed innocence. This in turn explains why I personally have such little regard for a "man's word", because sadly, it means something only to him.

As for the jibe about the purity of a woman’s love, methinks it would make quite a revealing excursion into the minds of men to see how “cheap” and “superficial” they can get. The "practicality" of their professed emotions is often quite disquieting, if you know what I mean.

It is evident that most of the so called concerns highlighted stem from an injured male ego, and that it is preferable to the person in question to be subjected to the “cheap act” that he has just spent the past few moments decrying, rather than to face the ignominy of outright rejection. Why then does he go through the motions of objecting to it, and waste the time of his readers by subjecting them to a tirade such as this?

And finally a word to the author of that article. Its always bitchy unless you're doing it. Think about the mistakes you've made in your dealings with others before you embark on playing the high priest of the blogosphere.

Until next time, and I'm almost certain there will be one, adios.

2006-09-05T10:43:00.000+05:30

TO STEVE IRWIN - "CROCODILE HUNTER"

A man who came face to face with some of the deadliest animals in the world, from alligators to crocodiles to snakes and even sharks, and never batted an eyelid.

When cable television first came to our home, I was only interested in keeping track of the various sitcoms that I'd heard about from my friends. My dad however used to constantly urge me to shift my attention to the nature channels so I could improve my general knowledge, and I would very reluctantly switch to Discovery or Animal Planet.

But since the day I discovered Steve Irwin's show, nobody had to ever ask again. Steve was probably the only person who could look right at home with a python wrapped around his neck like it was just a fancy cravat or scarf. From his evident love for the animals he worked with, to the nonchalant manner in which he would stand in the murky water discussing the habits of a particular crocodile, while the same crocodile closed in on him, until the last moment when he'd swing around with his trademark "CRIKEY!", and deal with it head on, he kept the show alive, and every moment charged with intense excitement. He made each episode so enthralling and absolutely memorable, you could watch the show back to back non stop for a week, and still not get tired of it. The day I found out that I shared a birthday with the spunkiest man of all, nothing could have brought me down from Cloud 9.

And now the man who became famous for wrestling crocodiles and poisonous snakes has been killed in a tragic diving accident while filming his own documentary on the Great Barrier Reef, titled The Ocean's Deadliest. As the headline in a popular tabloid says, he died as he lived - dangerously. Nobody can ever replace him, not on television, not in the hearts of ardent fans like me.

To a brave man who lived life on the edge and enjoyed every moment of it. May his memory live on forever.

2006-09-03T16:12:00.000+05:30

I'm afraid I'll lose the people I love. I'm afraid they'll stop loving me the day they see that I'm not as smart or accomplished or witty or fun as they think. Its happened before.

Sadly, I don't know how to be anyone but me. The many masks are fast slipping.

Would someone more experienced please show me how to?

2006-09-01T16:10:00.000+05:30

Being rich doesn't apparently necessitate your having class or breeding, or stop you from being crass, uncouth, tawdry, manipulative, ill informed, or self centred. In fact, it seems to justify a person's being any of the above, and mitigates the necessity for good manners, because, in the end, its your money that talks.

Niceties are merely a tool of the middle class, stuck right in between the poor, who have no use for them, and the rich, who don't seem to know of their existence.

I'm sorry. This is just an irrelevant rant.

2006-08-14T13:32:00.000+05:30

And......I'm tagged again.

I am thinking about .....lunch.

I said .....don't frown, you never know who's falling in love with your smile.

I want to..... swim all the way to Alaska.

I wish .....people were honest with each other.

I hear ..... muzik on my oh so cool ipod

I wonder .....if my whole existence is just part of someone's dream, and when they're planning to wake up.

I regret .....not being more witty.

I am .....a dreamer.

I dance .....to Jailhouse Rock.

I sing .....when I am sure people are within range to get their eardrums damaged.

I cry .....when I'm angry.

I am not always .....spouting meaningless words of encouragement.

I make with my hands .....food for the soul.

I write .....endless nonsensical posts on this blog.

I confuse .....reality with imagination.

I need .....my very own library that constantly replenishes itself with out of print classics.

Here are my seven bloggers:

Wtmewry
Lalbadshah
Boyracer
Safari Al
Shreedhar
Duh Goddess
Linda

YOU ARE TAGGED!

2006-08-03T13:07:00.000+05:30

This has got to be the funniest thing I've ever read, and was like a daily dose of the best medicine for 5 years. (Thanks for beating me to taking the pic Rad, I'd have never given up procrastinating!) For those who can't figure it out, it's supposed to say vulcanising punctures shop.

2006-07-24T15:10:00.000+05:30

Memories (No....not the one from Cats)

Crying right through the first month of kindergarden. The single bathroom behind the library with bloodstains on the wall, where a girl was reported to have been eaten alive by ghosts. Trying to dig a tunnel directly to hell in the corner of the sandpit. Falling off the jungle gym and hurting my lip badly. Killing a bird by trying to feed it noodles with absolutely honourable intentions. Queueing up for coupons on tuck shop day. Playing hopscotch in the sand. Watching “Orphan Annie” every children’s day. Singing in the choir. Walking in one neat line in the rain with classmates, it never occurred to anyone to break the goddamned line and run. Elocution competitions. Reading Archie comics through every Sports day for ten years straight. Christmas plays. Learning to recite “The Charge of the Light Brigade” from Bhargavi Pawar, and winning the choral speaking competition. Winning it again. And again. Crying because we were too old to take part in the competition any more. Coaching our juniors, and turning cartwheels when they won too. Cursing the other team when they got fed up with us winning and registered the poem as their choice before we did. Cheering loudly when they lost. Bashing Baldwin boys. David and Goliath. Bunking drum practice to play basketball. Bunking basketball practice to play the drums. Sundry plays that were always a fiasco, but were highly praised. Chemistry experiments where one person would get the compound and six people would show it as their result. Farewell parties. Physics experiments gone awry. Debates that were always so complex. Skirts that were sparkling white always, until that very last day when they had everything in the world written on them in all hues and colours. A graduation so beautiful, it hasn't been replicated since.

Ah.....school. My school. That wonderful place. How I miss you.....

2006-06-26T16:15:00.000+05:30

Go away. All of you. I hate you.

2006-06-21T20:01:00.000+05:30

BECAUSE

…..I don’t want to write, but I have to.

…..my stomach hurts like someone is trying to gouge it out bit by bit with a hot iron rod.

…..work is boring, and I feel like someone in a story, some drudge, like the miller’s daughter, left to spin gold out of straw.

…..I’d like to live like a character out of an old Victorian novel, with wasp waisted dresses, ribands and curls, with china heeled slippers, and Almack’s and waltzes and balls and masquerades.

…..I can’t abide with people who don’t know me for me, but assume that they have a proprietoral role in my life.

…..my best friend is going far far away, and I don’t know if she’ll ever return.

…..all the most memorable parts of my life seem like they’re make believe.

…..I don’t want to have to deal with people who use projection as a defense mechanism, and blame ME for all the issues THEY have with my existence.

…..all the best things in life don’t come in small packages, and they are certainly not free. You pay for them one way or another.

…..I get mad with people out to besmirch my reputation, when I know that the only person to blame is me.

…..nobody believes in one man for one woman relationships any more.

.....people are supposed to be free, and not imprisoned in tiny cubicles like rats in a laboratory experiment.

…..boys will be boys and every deviance from the beaten path can be conveniently attributed to that.

.....I dislike people who coin silly words and phrases to prove they're "yo".

And finally, because, like someone just pointed out, mothers in law were daughters in law at some point of time too. :-) [For details, refer Ekta Kapoor]

[To be continued.....]

2006-05-05T17:54:00.000+05:30

As a rendition of the bestseller by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, “The Mistress of Spices” is a bitter disappointment.

To begin with, it is a foregone conclusion that any movie in which Aishwarya Rai has the pivotal role is bound to bomb at the box office. In addition, the intricate detail which makes the book so enthralling is totally absent from the movie, making it seem incomplete to those who have been fortunate enough to read the book, and thoroughly confusing to those who haven’t.

At the very beginning of her novel, Chitra Divakaruni describes India as a "land of ardent poetry and aquamarine feathers." That brief phrase sums up the dichotomy of fantasy and reality that makes up the book, that is lost in the translation into the cinematic medium.

The plot of the movie completely deviates from the original storyline of the book, beginning from the intrinsic fact that the lead character Tilottama is a young woman forced by the rules of her profession into masquerading as an old and bent creature, which Aishwarya is most definitely not, and makes no pretense of being. The very essence of the tale is lost by this omission, because it is from this basic premise that the story of the illegitimate love between the wild foreigner Raven, with a haunting past that he is unable to escape from, and Tilottama, the mistress of spices, trapped in a guise that ill suffices to curb her youthful desires, but confined by the burden of her duties and her allegiance to the spices to the depths of her store, arises.

Shampati’s fire, the mystical fire that transports the mistresses to their destinies, and recalls them when they ‘upset the delicate axis of giving and receiving on which [the mistresses’] lives are held precarious’, brought into existence by the fury of the red chillies, which bring destruction upon themselves and all around them when crossed, is integral to the story because it is symbolic both of the strong undercurrent of retribution that runs through the entire story, and, inspired by the mythical bird of Shampati from the Ramayana which rises phoenix like from the ashes, of the impending rebirth of Tilo. Though present in the movie in the form of the warnings of the crackling red chillies, this concept is hardly explained, and so thoroughly baffles the uninitiated.

Overall, this is the worst book to movie translation I have ever seen. Gurinder Chadda and her husband really ought to stay away from screenplay writing because they’re truly incompetent at it. To give them some credit, the movie is very appealing to the eye, but in the attempt to maintain this appearance, they have simply made it a regular hotch potch of scenes that would be most colourful when potrayed. And its high time Aishwarya Rai either quits acting, or comes up with something other than this wide eyed, simpering, shrinking violet pose which is the only type of acting she seems capable of.

My recommendation – DO NOT WATCH THIS MOVIE!

2006-05-04T17:19:00.000+05:30

It's titled "Mera No 1". And people still drink it. Ugh!

2006-05-04T10:48:00.000+05:30

Remember the Friends episode where Phobe finds a dismembered thumb in her soda can, and the soda people give her seven thousand dollars to keep her quiet? Did any of you think "this is so not happening in real life"? Well think again.

Just as the last embers of the pesticide controversy flickered and died out, and soft drink corporations thought they could breathe easy again, a man has come forth with a claim that he found a condom in a bottle of Pepsi!

Sudesh Sharma, from Ujhani village near New Delhi, bought two bottles of Pepsi from a retail shop near Kashmere Gate in the Capital in 2003. After drinking from one of the bottles, he was afflicted by severe dyspepsia and a headache, followed by insomnia. On inspecting the bottle from which he had drunk, Sharma found dirt and other contaminants inside it. The condom was found in the other unopened bottle of Pepsi.

But this is where the similarities between the two stories end. When summoned to court, Pepsi refused to accept responsibility, and maintains that the bottles may have contained spurious products illegally marketed under its brand name. However, the local consumer court deemed this a lame excuse, and has slapped a fine of Rs 1 lakh and an additional Rs 20,000 as compensation by way of damages and a sum of Rs 3,000 as cost of litigation to the complainant.

Perhaps Pepsi is now considering changing their jingle to

"Oye Bubbly
Oye oye bubbly
Don't get pregnant bubbly"

:-D