The Pooh has been interviewed!

If ever there is something called 'Last day Last show', then it is this!

The Pakistani Spectator (TPS) has interviewed me, an avid, rocking and happening blogger just in time before I go for a 'personal' break. Do read it at leisure in the 'celebrity' interviews section as it is quite an exhaustive one. OK, not in 'celebrities' but the general blogger interview section here. The pooh feels this to be her fifteen minutes of fame, so whom does one blame?

Well, one of the editors, Ghazala Khan sent me an email requesting an interview. I obliged since the pooh will be away for some time to her hundred-acre woods to steal loads of honey and such interview requests come only but once in a while to poor pooh. I, so thoroughly enjoyed answering her questions and hope you guys do not sleep half way through! And if you do, then you know whom to blame!

But, you can put the blame on me...you can put the blame on me...I'm off to steal my honey!

and remember.....

"Wherever they go, and whatever happens to them on the way, in that enchanted place on the top of the forest, a little boy and his Bear will always be playing".

P.S: Do check out The Pakistani Spectator (TPS). I found it to be quite a candid and interesting read for all Indians.

The story of my experiments with Truth!

They say, ‘One has to burn to be able to rise from the ashes; the one who can rise thus is unconquerable, the invincible’. This is the only Greek mythology that still remains engraved deep in my heart by virtue of the mythical firebird ‘Phoenix’. I liked the concept so much that ‘Phoenix’ became my email password most of my life! The Phoenix has a lifespan of nearly 500 to 1000 years, towards the end it  builds a nest around itself and burns along with it, and only from the ashes is a young Phoenix born or rather a new Phoenix arises! This too will live a complete life and then evolve in much the same way. Maybe, the Greeks have branded our ‘Garuda’ as ‘Phoenix’, but I love the phrase – Phoenix, Return from the Ashes!

So often we come across our life floating past our very own eyes and we have no control over it. Then, one wonders - ‘Why me?’, but trust me when I say, the question should really be – ‘Why not me?’ Our spirit only knows to fly, though the perceived environment has conditioned us to never fly, to never experience the Truth as we may not be particularly armed to fight the ‘real’ Truth. When Neo is given a choice between the red pill and the blue pill to his question of “What is the Matrix?, he is confronted with two things – one take the blue pill and merely exist in the ‘known, or take the red pill, know the mystery about Matrix and risk the present comforts to a harsh reality which may even be brutal. In our sub-conscious minds, we all are asking that question every moment, and in asking that question every moment, we evolve every moment. Every momentary choice defines our next moment and thus defines our life. So, the question - ‘Which pill?’ is really about ‘What life do I want to lead and how can I rise from the ashes - how can I be invincible?’

I am at this crossroad now and I shall emerge from the ashes hopefully! I need a sojourn with ‘myself’ – my inner being. Each one of you have been my Teachers and with the wise lessons learnt, I need to embark on this journey – the journey of self-discovery! I will return but ‘when’ is the unknown ‘X’ here.

As an ancient Chinese proverb says , “When you have only two pennies left in the world, buy a loaf of bread with one, and a lily with the other” , so I am off to buy my lily!

God Bless You all…..Be happy always!

Tagged - A Photo Story!

He was frail now, as frail as the grass underneath the bench. He knew his fingers had started shaking again. He joined them tight across his folded knees and began to wonder, "How long?" He was tired and this evening that he sat on the park bench symbolised the evening of his life too. He longed for the night - the night of his life.

Every little wish of a child cannot be fulfilled for want of a slightly higher need and bread was indeed necessary than an admission to kindergarten. So, Anna being the eldest took to the family profession of tailoring. He did the measuring and the sizing with precision but one hardly ever saw a 'measuring tape or scale' in his shop. Years passed by, Anna grew up, the only tailor in town to sew the best for the best though he was un-lettered. His siblings were posted in government agencies by virtue of their literacy. So, Anna brought the family a notch above. Bread is good but not better than school.

But, little Anna had a wish - he wanted to go to school, he wanted to read, write and sing just like the children at the nearby school. The wish died as he had grown up. Learning the letters seemed unnecessary and he could fend for himself and his siblings. He improved with every suit and sometimes was even amazed with the precision perfect cutting! Still, he just couldn't feel the calm - the kind of calm that comes to a man who has found his calling in life. He felt like a light-house keeper, the old man who does his duty, watching endless horizons of black, blue or green and sometimes with the sun playing along, he would be treated to reds, golden yellows and vermillion. Days merged into nights and the horizon would disappear, but the light house never failed to guide the ships that roamed the nights.

Who takes care of the light-house keeper? Well, alcohol did for Anna. He took to drinking like a baby turtle to the sea. He drowned in its many flavors but was awake somehow at the sewing machine. Days merged into nights and slowly into years...Anna had made a name, Anna was the very symbol of sacrifice and hardwork. But, one day he coughed and coughed and spewed out blood - his liver gave way.

His nieces take care of him now; they teach him the alphabets but he cannot seem to have any control on his shaky fingers. He can read and sing but he still longs to write...

Moral: Nature has its own way and takes its own sweet time in fulfiling our desires. Be patient and trust in the forces. There is always an "and it happened" moment some time.

P.S: This is my feeble attempt at meaningful fiction. I am thankful to Kanagu for tagging me with this wonderful idea. I tag all my blogger buddies and request you to weave a story around any photo in your pics folder. Sorry Kanagu, I relaxed the rules a bit. By the way, this was the last photo in my favorite photos folder and it was the fifth!

The Age of Innocence

jasmines adorned her soot hued hair

some dad’s little princess, wasn’t she?

a sari the pride of a cherry draped

carefree in cheap gold embroidery

faux gems serve to fill the void

a void ciphering into another

some mum’s dream come true alas

cat calls welcome her as she dares

to roam amongst the fortunate us

she is the queen of the streets

her strides, magnificent and bold

enchanting, enamoring, enticing

despite the weather so cold

‘if he were here, o if only he were here,

i would seldom walk one step more’

her thirst for love, an unfulfilled desire

her clothes are often torn apart

many a man has left his stench

but not one dares to steal her heart

‘won’t mum teach me to sew?

wont she come to purify –

the scents of sins stacked within?’

her eyes moisten reminiscing

the ghosts of an era bygone

yet she seeks a path; a fresh, raw path –

unexplored, holding promises galore

wiping her tears, she seeks to return;

a return to the Age of Innocence

‘dad, mum, where are you?

the hide n seek is past due

i wish no more to breathe

this stench of other’s sins

i want to smell the warmth

of the purest form of love

so, take me in your arms

as I end this wretched bond’,

so saying she ends her beat

**********

I have a dream…

All of us do – just that one dream to live for! Mine keeps waxing and waning along with the germs up there, now you know where. The same old culprits who play Pac-man with the map I so painstakingly etch in my mind. As I was day dreaming for today’s quota, as per my personal timetable, I had an ‘idea’ and what an idea, sirjee! Also to mark the moment, a light bulb did flash – ting!

What if, the scientists at NASA take up my case on priority and keep those goddamn space aeronautics studies on hold and provide me some ‘navigational’ moral support in my space? Come on, guys! Can’t you devise a gadget and insert into my brain, much like the game Pac-man, only the villains would be the new heroes. It would work somewhat like this: I draw my map, the nasty germs begin gobbling it up, the gadget is triggered to shoot little things (I don’t know what to name them but have envisioned them like the ones in picture), these things will go right after the germs and gobble them back, yeah, that sounds so good… Tit for tat!

My map would be secure and losing my way would be a thing of the past. I could then also volunteer as a guide for this otherwise complex metro. Yey! There must be a few thousands like me at least, and the additional thousands in the form of harassed passers- by who have to go out of their way to show us our way. Considering these large numbers, it is definitely a noble project worth taking up to ensure world peace.

And I do know about GPS enabled gadgets which work along with google maps but what about a tiny creak of a road, the kinds where the tiny creeps in my brain will have a field day? Either, you customize google maps for me, or you make my tiny Pac-man fighter and I’m sure this would be akin to moonwalk for you. So, all the best, guys! And, do not give moronic excuses like – we don’t do this, we love rocket science, etc.

Wanted: A Knight in matte cotton shirt!

Well, I’m no more a teenager with stars in my eyes and I’m ages away from being referred to as an adult female homo sapien. Now imagine me singing that Britney number – I’m not a girl…not yet a woman, but please, without her curves for Christ’s sake, mine are better! I am single now by choice but in love with my teddy who reciprocates unconditionally. So, one may safely presume that I’m stuck somewhere in a time warp! I also suck at every day relationships right from the traffic policeman, the building dog and her newborn litter, the crows nesting outside my kitchen window right up till the society watchman and the Sai baba temple pujari besides. Nobody seems to acknowledge my presence. I am the living dead or the dead living! And, my mum thinks only a man can save me now by way of marriage to me, Poor man!

So, is marriage the ‘be all and end all’ to a girl’s identity? Well, maybe! Every goddamn form wants to know your father and/or husband’s name. But, I’m in no hurry, I like it when the dogs stay away from me and I don’t find crows any cuter; what to say about the other ‘assorted’ folks, I come across every day if relatives are not enough punishment already! This is what I gather from their eyes, nose, ears et al except their tongue - Oh, She is waiting for Mr. Right! She is expecting Pierce now, and I mean like ‘N-O-W’! She thinks she is the diva queen- all this with giggles and muffled jokes doubting my sexual preferences. So, I take this opportunity to all and sundry – I am straight, very much straight, and as straight as a line joining two imaginary points anywhere and as straight as a light ray. I am not waiting for Mr. Right; he is as common a sight as an UFO (unidentified flying object). Well, I am no diva queen or any other queen either; I am just a girl at heart with dreams of an enchanting home somewhere bubbling with my kids and my partner for life.

So, all I want is one common man – any man with loads of common sense and can see through the obvious. Most definitely loaded with fresh jokes on him at all times. He should preferably be dressed up in matte cotton shirts only, I don’t fancy ‘shining armour’ anymore; you see I’m not into fairy tales and ‘happily ever after….’ fantasies. Apart from the usual attributes of TDH (tall-dark-handsome), absolutely great sense of responsibility, great conversationalist, great listener, great lover, best friend, the better cook, the hygienically-inclined, the ability to withstand female nagging, the supreme strength to change diapers every hour and that too cheerfully, genuine love for my folks – especially my mum, etc. etc., I want only an extra bit thrown for good measure to be referred to as my Mr. Right and that would be - ‘He should simply love me for no rhyme or reason’. I abhor terms and conditions in love and will go to any length to break all of them intentionally. Now, is this asking for too much?

Maybe, yes! Apart from the cotton shirt, how can one man alone be gifted so? So, nowadays I have started thinking on these lines – my preferences and the ultimate choice or the world’s preferences and a so called compromise! And I have come to this - I’m pretty soon going to forget the very essence of marriage if all these attributes are not present in a single man. Isn’t it exciting to be single and mingle with all the separate aforementioned men? Or, I will just place a finger on any of the profiles placed in front of me and make my mum and the other ‘interested parties’ happy?

Our dear Rover is in love!

P.S: I can't believe my eyes when Rover does so many things with my mouse and MS Paint, anyways let us all wish him a very happy Valentine's Day!

Untitled

strutting around, my placid plume,

the breeze sways along with me

a sashay escapes, timidity I presume

though ‘m brighter than thou today

can thee not fathom the depths

that lay within my core?

does it not give thee joy

that I am near my source?

thy heart, thy soul, the wise one’s told

was built brick by brick,

over setting suns and moons

yonder the mirage in the sand dunes.

then, does it not bleed if I am pricked,

or is it the cactus, now dearer to thou?

the warmth is no more,

it’s all a name game

who said thus, which is naught,

what is sin, which is not,

why the fuss and cry throughout?

why gift pain in lieu of love?

the heart is love , nay, nothing else

breathe and let go is nature’s plea

thou ruled by vanity, thy pride crushed

come, topple my inner castle

built with the grace of Almighty

come, trounce upon my plumes

if it doth make thee happy?

******

The God of big and small Terrorists!

Kasab killed Karkare, Salaskar and Kamte: Mumbai police
No bullet hit Kasab, no active treatment on, says hospital’s dean
Kasab squeals, nails Lashkar role in attack
Ex-soldier trained terrorists, says Kasab
Kasab says his father sent him to LeT
Kasab not Pak national, says Pak minister
Pakistan officially admits Kasab its national !!
Pak's another lie nailed, Kasab well and alive
Pak registers case against Kasab under Terror Act !!
Kasab's DNA matches imprints on hijacked trawler
Underworld may be out to kill Kasab
India waiting for Pak's response, cautious about Kasab reports

………………and the list of Kasab headlines keeps getting bigger and bigger and I wont be surprised anymore if this will grow along with Kasab and die off along with him either entering old age or death in some obscure high security prison either in India or Pakistan!

Ever since the gruesome 26/11 Mumbai terror attacks, I see, read and hear the name ‘Kasab’ just about everywhere – in newspapers, in news channels, in gossip. And every time I see, read or hear ‘Kasab’, I try to join the little bits and pieces of the Mumbai massacre like a giant jigsaw puzzle but alas, I don’t seem to progress anywhere at all. Every two days there is a contradiction and then we even had Pakistan claiming that Kasab is dead! What a f*****g joke!

We, the highly intelligent Indians are proud of our national heritage and history but forever in need of other countries to solve our domestic issues. A bunch of kids wade through the waters and create havoc along their trail killing nearly 200 people and injuring many more. One of them is caught alive after a much dramatized capture by the National Security Guards and the world isn’t spared afterwards too… the national media along with their equally incapable counterparts from the international scene break in for a piece of the pie.

Anybody and everybody wants to showcase to the world that they have better ‘analysis’ of the entire psychology behind this ghastly attacks. Pakistan is confused about what to say and what to hide – what with their own home-grown backyard terrorists pointing a gun at them and making them repeat like parrots. One day Kasab is a non-state actor, the other day he is dead and next day he is not the one whom India claims was present at the scene of crime. BS!!

And all this while Kasab has been singing like a canary after being televised live with his weapons and plan of attack/strategy, either to mislead or out of utter resignation from his alma mater and godfathers residing there. He is only 21, he might as well start writing his autobiography right away of his so-called adoption and the subsequent abandonment by the non-existing father and godfathers. Or he could request the humanitarians to get him transferred to Tihar jail where he could further his creative pursuits, do an MBA or Phd in humanity or transform into an ‘enlightened’ being - ‘Swami Kasabananda’, what with meditation being a daily norm there!

I’m sure that Ramu or some bollywood director is scripting Kasab’s story as I type this and will only get it out after 10 years or so for fear of being judged as unpatriotic or ‘money-digger’. I’m also sure that the only human being on earth – Arundhati Roy is writing her next ‘booker prize’ story on Kasab!

And I’m dead sure that there is indeed a ‘God of big and small Terrorists’ somewhere in Indian-occupied / Pakistan occupied piece of land / water, who protects the fallacies of ‘self-appointed-ethnic-cleansing’ organizations and their innocent lackeys operating in non-states and other not surprisingly ‘inaccessible crevices’ in our globe or outer space!

And we Indians keep saying ‘Give peace a chance!’ while fighting amongst ourselves all the while.

….….another f*****g joke, I say!

A terrifying alarm!

I’m not reading or following any news of the terror attacks and the jokes ensuing from Pakistan sometimes about non-state actors and sometimes about Kasab being dead! I hardly discussed these issues recently…most Mumbaiites have given up on this issue altogether and it has become a non-issue now what with our dear Prime Minister’s heart becoming the centre of national attraction.

But a few terrorists woke me up early morning rather scared the daylights out of me. I don’t recollect the entire sequence but after much hiding and strategizing an escape, I finally gave up when one of them entered our room and pointed his gun at me. He looked so vulnerable and his hands were trembling. I don’t recollect who else was in my room but most of them had escaped save for me and a few others who got trapped. Maybe, I was in some heritage hotel or some university convocation hall since the setting was a grand one.

That moment was pure terror and all I wanted was to be anywhere but there! My heart prayed to his – just shoot right away but when I looked into his eyes, I felt pity. He was just following an order – an order to simply terrorize without rhyme or reason. His heart wouldn’t accept that, that poor thing! And unfortunately, I woke up…didn’t get to experience what decision he took.

Just the dream was so terrifying; I can now also imagine what must have transpired in those last moments for the captured hostages. I wonder what is terrorism and who is truly the ‘terrorist’ – the guy carrying the weapon or the guy defending himself – both of them seemed helpless!

Can you spot the lil' heroine?

Meet my personal photographer, fashion consultant and the very beautiful - Dia! After a tiring photo shoot in the jungle, she takes a Sunday break amidst her favorites - flowers and butterflies.

Post Script: I have not been threatened to put my niece's pic here on my blog post my jungle shoot. This decision is entirely my own and all opinions stating otherwise are sincerely expected to be disregarded. It's just that I also care about my joie de vivre!!

Jaam…aur ek nasheeli shaam, Kishore da ke naam!

OK! This post isn’t about alcohol or the ama-ZING effects later on. This is me sharing my new found secret to an alternative to alcohol as I’m health and wealth conscious now:) It’s also got something to do with an advice from an old friend, philosopher and guide -‘Friedrich Nietzsche’, who told me that ‘For art to exist, for any sort of aesthetic activity to exist, a certain physiological precondition is indispensable: intoxication.’!!!

So, this post is about me and my state of mind nowadays – trying to get kinda intoxicated with emotions – deep seated love, sorrow, happiness, gratitude, anger, joy, hatred and mischief- just about everything is surfacing! In the absence of alcohol, every image of it looks so divine! And, what does a once-upon-a-time-moderate-drinker-now-abstaining supposed to do to get ‘intoxicated’?

Now, alcohol is pure nirvana, isn’t it? So, can there really be an alternative – an equal one?

Most regulars wouldn’t care about an alternative anyways. An alternative to the instant cure for escaping reality; an alternative to the free ticket to freedom; an alternative to the same highs; an alternative to …OK, you get the point. Now, my point…

Post strenuous and hardcore brainstorming, I got innovative and a light bulb did shine above my head – ting! I created a bar like effect around me to fool the brain though. You know the slow, soft music, happy- very happy-very,very happy people floating around, cloud number 9 just beside you, angels at your beck and call types, etc.etc. Given that I grew up on an ‘Imaginary boyfriend’ on the moon, this was nothing but cakewalk or so I thought. Imagining is my full time occupation but imagining something specific is like trying to walk in a straight line in high spirits. But, for art to exist, I have to get intoxicated!

Something was missing …just couldn’t point a finger though. Anyways, what I did was what I always do and that is to listen to the one and only juggler of melody in emotions, the greatest that ever was – Kishore Kumar – the other ‘Ganguly’! This man along with Burman have created eternal magic and I’m sure when my grand-grand kids read this, they too will not disagree. Just about every emotion that had surfaced mixed and dissolved into pure intoxication! A little necessary ambience would be silence, a dimly lit room – main aur meri tanhayi types or just very close friends – no alcohol…plain old water works wonders…it’s the tunes that lift your spirits, trust me!

One can’t imagine the kind of highs reached on listening to Kishore. It has to be experienced. I did and realized that it is beneficial – both in body and in spirit! Do try it for the sake of art…It will do wonders to your life. Cheers!

U.P.S (Useful post script): If you are a married man and your wife nags you to quit or nags habitually, you must listen to this Kishore da’s sure shot remedy:

‘Yeh jeevan hain…is jeevan ka…

yahi hain..yahi hain..yahi hain ..rang roop

thode gham hain…thode kushiyan..

thode gham hain…thode kushiyan…

yahi hain..yahi hain…yahi hain..chaav dhoop’

Lost !

…………………..this is what happened to me on a routine trip to my art materials supplier shop and one would wonder – it’s a routine trip, so how come Vin? Well, it so happened that the usual map I have in my mind after losing my way many times before, got deleted! Not accidentally though…remember the old culprits, those naughty germs in my brain. Yep, they were at it again. For those millions of my new readers, unaccustomed with my germs, please read an old post titled ‘Manzile apni jagah hain….raasthe apni jagah and GPS’, with which I also made my debut in Blogywood. Only the title is long but the post isn’t, I swear!

Let me make a few things clear first:

a. I am not directionally challenged. I challenge the directions.

b. Those germs are entirely a figment of my imagination. I only delete the brain map since I sincerely believe that if there’s a will, there’s a way. Agar chah hain, tho raah hain…..Hum honge kaamyab, ek din!

Things occurred somewhat like this….The shop is called ‘New Bombay Stationary Stores’ and it is as old as the Gateway of India gifted to King George a long long time ago. It is located in a lane called ‘Abdul Rehman Street’ in CST. There are millions of shops in the same street and another million roads in and around CST near Crawford market. Now, there aren’t any hoardings or billboards on this lane ‘Abdul Rehman Street’ so poor Abdul! Nor are there any trees, so poor me! What do I use as a base for my brain map then? Imagination …Life is my creation!

Unusual sounding shops would be the new billboards for me. When I returned from my second trip which was a long long one, needless to say that I got lost that day, I decided to take immediate steps for the map drawing. So, this is what was the route: the lane starts with the biggest BATA showroom – then Toy World – some shop selling arms and ammunition – a bylane called ‘Zanzibar Street’ – keep walking on the right till you see the red post box – that’s it, bang opposite the post box is a stupid shop selling labels and stickers (the shop isn’t stupid, the shopkeeper is and I’ll tell you why in a little while).

I have been somewhat successful in reaching my manzil with the help of this map in my subsequent trips, until yesterday which was my 7th or 8th trip maybe. It so happened that I had to hunt for new suppliers for a new idea I had. In the process of doing that, I got lost somewhere in that dingy lane, but this was nothing new. Getting lost was also a routine thing now.

I tried to get back to my route map, but just couldn’t find any of the strategic places I had made a note of. I was in the middle of millions of shops selling everything that man aspires to have, including maps. But I needed a personalized map – a map that understands me. Anyways, chah hain…raah bhi milegi….so, I inquired at a nearby shop if he knows the now popular AR street. He nodded sympathetically and pointed straight another 50 shops ahead. It was noon so no sympathy from the sun. Poor me walked straight ahead, keeping an eye for the red post box or any box which is red would do.

I finally got there and the stupid shopkeeper of that labels shop was grinning at me. He somehow knew of my days happenings. My face said it all! Our eyes met and we made the last conversation hopefully. He seemed to say ‘Kya madam..hamesha aathi ho yahi…hamesha punchthi ho…phir bhi’. I too gave an answering ‘look’- ‘main tho pehle baar aayi hun..woh meri judwa behen hain’ :)

By the way, I have decided not to go to that New Bombay stores anymore, I have found an easier route to a shop called ‘Himalaya Art stores’ bang opposite Sir J J School of Art!

Jahan chah…vahan raah. Jai Himalaya!

Can you spot Vin, the jungle queen?

Created using Magic Photo Editor!!

My best friend Rover...

and the post is over!!!

Post Script: Just me trying my hand at illustration! I'm scared of dogs and I have no best friend called Rover. Illustrated using MS Paint, while trying to learn Adobe Illustrator :)