Let the Raja beta grow up Indian mommies!!

Apple of my eye, my little munchkin, my guddu, mera raja beta, Indian mums are gung ho about their son. They love their daughters equally but the sense of pride they feel with a son is unparalleled!

Even when a foot taller, bearded and trying hard to be all macho, he has a task cut for him, protecting his cheek from doting kisses of a fawning mother.

If it would only stop at kisses! Nope, Sir! Mother hens go overboard in fawning over their offsprings. They get fixated on their male progenies like anything. From his nursery days till school and college, Indian mothers hover around their sons obsessively.

They love it when their daughters consider them their centre of world but their hearts swell with immense pride when their sons inform, discuss, consult on even the most inconsequential stuff in life. If per chance the little guy fails to do so, he is chastised in no uncertain terms about his lack of reverance for Mother superior, the nomenclature made to order for mothers in India.

Most of the time, mothers even get to select a wife for their ‘aankhon ka tara’. They sift, scan and finalise a demure simpleton for him. But behold! In just a few weeks and she transforms into a femme fatale, twisting their dear boy around her delicate finger. They mistrust this intruder but are helpless. They are infact asked to grin and welcome this interpolar. They do so grudgingly with a plastic smile, putting up a charade of warmth while secretly determined not to let a ‘stranger’ usurp their dearest and most precious possession. They swear to stamp their authority in their sons’ lives in the most aggressive and intrusive manner possible.

Thus starts the interference and control of son’s life. She is the Mommy and Mommy always know best, or so it is claimed. Hence her conception of ‘best’ imposes and infringes upon the personal life and space of her son. She never learns to take a back seat. Privacy and independence are alien terms to you. So she continues with her controlling act and the tussle for ‘power base’ – with her holding it back and the children pulling it with all their might – continues unabated lifelong. That unfortunately is the sorry state of affairs in many a household in India.

This dominance of the Queen Mother is nowhere more defined and established as it’s in India. From Shravan Kumar who carried his blind parents on his shoulders to Ramji who abdicated his rightful inheritance to do his stepmother’s unjustified bidding, the mum-son equation is paramount in the scheme of things that make the family-structure function seamlessly.

The birth of a son is a major achievement in a woman’s life, across all classes of indian society. It is a trophy or a distinction which accords a superior status to women automatically. Naturally enough, they are most reluctant to hand over this trophy to the next generation.

Fortunately for Generation X, the influx of globalisation and the emergence of nuclear families as a natural corollary of the same, is facilitating a less acrimonious change of guard. The most pious relationship in the world is getting redefined and realigned in sync with the shift in new age thinking and philosophy of “Love me? Let me loose!!”

You mommy dearest have to learn to loosen the strings of possessiveness because only then mutual respect will grow leading to a wholesome, deep relationship between you and your children.

THE POWER OF MATURED LOVE ❤

Love has got to be world's most potent and most volatile emotion. The amazing thing about romantic love is that it is unique for each couple depending upon their relationship dynamics. And every couple's love story has its own graph- the ups vs downs, intense vs indifferent, comfortable vs annoying etc..their love travels through different phases at its own pace and is never static.

If we talk about matured love or love between a couple in their forties, who have been together for a considerable length of time, then it is very different from the puppy love or youthful infatuation between a younger couple.

After years of being together, the attraction and combustion is replaced by compassion and understanding. You don't count the hours to meet at a restaurant looking your best, rather you count the hours when the hubby returns from his office carrying the bakery or stationary stuff you reminded him to bring home. Instead of you rushing to greet him with a warm hug n kiss, it's the kids who overtake you in exchanging pleasantries. 

Any privacy is no longer sought to jump into the bed for action but to slump down and slowly share the day's hectic happenings. Priorities change gradually and before you realise you become uncle and aunty from Bhaiya and Bhabhi. The wrinkles and grey hair crop up surreptitiously and catch you unawares. Piles of extra kilos surface over the years and you stop weighing yourself for fear of landing into depression.

Life is tougher now but infinitely more fulfilling. From making plans for your own future you shift to planning for your kids' future because you know somewhere you have peaked professionally and personally. At forties, love becomes a homogenous mixture of respect, companionship, appreciation and dependency. The sore points have been sorted out and the irritants ironed over. 

Trust and loyalty are the two pillars of a long standing relationship. After investing heavily (emotionally and physically) into your partnership you want to keep it going.

Love in forties is stable and secured wherein you bask in your partners care and attention. It's gentle and soothing unlike the brash and fervent youthful love. It completes you and defines you as an altergo of the other.

Life begins at 40s some say, love too comes onto its own during this time after the jittery, nervy, volatile initial years of courtship, matrimony and series of adjustments in your relationship. It settles finally into a soothing, calming presence in life. From occupying the centre stage for years altogether, it receds to the background but does not fade away. It becomes firmer and more grounded. It intensifies into a solid, secure sea with none the nervous energy of youthful spring.

But love till 40s stays strong only if nurtured properly. Negligence and/or bickering takes the sheen away from it and it shrivels up to die forlorn and lonely.

Like life, love is most unpredictable and the only certainty attached with it is its longevity. Love outgrows life and generations and the best love stories are not of your college sweethearts but of you parents and grandparents. Even if procreation is the goal, love gives it a glamorous avatar. Falling in love and making love makes the world go round and are root causes for many of mankind's wars and progress.

There is no debating the power of matured love and like vintage wine, the older it gets, the better it tastes!

Three cheers to LOVE, the elixir of life! Drink it, savour it and preserve it.

SASURAL- The destination home of Indian Women

Every Indian girl gets acquainted with the word 'Sasural'(marital home) quite early in her life. It is after all the place she's supposed to go and live after her marriage and which will be her 'real home'.The presumption being that her parents'place is simply a temporary abode for her till the time they find her a suitable boy of a decent family. This is a stark reality of the Indian society. No matter how educated or liberated a family is, settling the daughter of the family into another house is the biggest concern for them and they are willing to spend a major chunk of their resources for this noble cause!
Learning to cook, to knit, sew, and honing of other household skills are made mandatory for girls from a young age, with a long sighted mission of impressing  the sasural walas. Behave like a lady, dress appropriately etc are the other rules and dictums guiding the girls with the sole aim of fitting them into a 'sasural' well enough and gaining acceptance. Most of the girls fall in line because it is supposed to be the done thing. Apart from the primary focus on education and recently on professional degrees, girls have to be good 'housewife material' to lead a happy life after marriage.

Now why is that sasural such a dreaded word? Why is that the majority of girls wish to marry guys living away from family due to their jobs? Why are nuclear families so much in vogue and why is living in sasural such an ordeal for most of the girls? Is it selfishness, individual preference, aversion to adjust with another family, or pervert indoctrination which instils fear of 'the unknown' in an impressionable mind since childhood? These are pertinent queries which need to be analysed to get to the crux of the complicated dynamics between a girl and her sasural.
The ogre in the sasural is ofcourse the mother-in-law, the woman whose son you marry. Invariably Indian mothers are excessively possessive about their sons. They are excited about the new member of their family but also apprehensive about her. They fix up their guards and armour themselves with verbal weopanry and sarcasm if needed, in their dealings with their daughters in law. The mother-in-law too has been told all her life that when the son gets a wife, he becomes 'paraya', a feeling which is an anathema to her. Thus starts her internal duel of accepting and appreciating her daughter-in-law while simultaneously keeping her on a tight leash to maintain her superiority. This tussle often creates a battlefield in the house with the men being poor casualties in the cross fire between the two women.

Every household talks about treating their daughter-in-law as their own daughter but that is seldom the case. No sooner than you enter The Sasural, that your life ceases to be your own. Apart from the mother-in-law, there are other family members too who have unrealistic expectations from you. But with tact and patience, they can be won over a period of time. The husband's siblings can become your friends and the fathers-in-law often indulge their bahus. But they are of fringe importance when the major driving force in an Indian setup is the mother-in-law, pleasing whom is a herculean task.

What is really ironical and tragic in Indian society and for girls living in the designated home after marriage called 'sasural' is that they are never given their just desserts.
They spend years and years, trying to find their moorings and space in life, to settle and 'own up' a place physically, emotionally and psychologically. But like many unlucky women of their ilk , they remain destined to play second fiddle to ' the rajmata' of the household. They perform duties and are expected to do them well but dare not challenge the supremacy of the family matriarch. Any effort to change the status-quo is resisted and trumpled. Some women surrender their soul at the devil's doorstep but some develop a spine and a voice and try to get their feet up in a constricted space.
Women marrying into joint families or where mothers-in-law occupy a sacrosanct place, suffer from major identity crisis. Even the tag of 'housewife' is compromised for them and they can't take pride in it because the title of 'lady of the house' is in the battleground. They are merely glorified housekeepers; raise children, keep the house in order, neat and clean, provide warm meals to all, entertain stream of guests and most importantly, never ever complain.

The major reason for such a stressful equation between the two most important women in a man's life is because the 'change of guard' seldom takes place. The passing of the baton to the next generation is deterred as the older generation is fraught with insecurities and complexities. The tug-of-war continues for many years, sometimes lifetime making none the wiser. The emotionally battered clan of daughters-in-law seek their chance of redemption and ease out their bitterness when they marry their sons and acquire a daughter-in-law. Unconsciously and unfortunately, they tread the same path and thus the vicious 'saas-bahu' cycle continues.
Lately though, there has been a didactic change in the way girls perceive sasural or life after marriage. Armed with women's lib talks and exposure to the world wide change in the status of women (especially since most of them are now professionally qualified) has led them find a firmer footing in the manner marriages are being conducted. Financial independence has helped them find a voice and courage to speak up when needed. Infact sometimes even when not needed!

Sincerely hoping for the times when the sasural ceases to be a dreaded cauldron, lit up to burn a woman's identity and intrinsic worth as a sensible and sensitive person. Waiting patiently by the side for the times when a mutually respectful relationship develops between 'the destination home' and its new member.

A Place where my heart is!- Benares ki yaadein

“When will you come next?"- my mother always asked at the time of my leaving my 'maika.' I could sense her palpable longing and my own heartbreak when saying goodbye. With a tremulous promise to be back soon, I always left with a heavy heart. 

 Those were the times of landline phones and weekly talks with parents were limited, stilted and to the point.

That my maika happens to be in Benares/Kashi/Varanasi is a blessing beyond belief. My heart has always belonged to Benares, my hometown, the place where I have lived for the major part of my growing years. My home, my colony, my school, my college, my friends, nearby localities, the restaurants, the shops - all bear testimony to the time spent there, well-lived and cherished. 

 

From the world-famous Benarsi saree, delectable sweets and chaat, the drool-worthy 'Benarsi paan' to the renowned temples, the mighty river Ganga and its many ghats, the quartet of universities and home to the famous Benares Hindu University (BHU), Benares is a tourist's delight.  

 

People regard Benares, Varanasi or Kashi (probably the only city to have 3 names) as the seat of Hindu culture and tradition. The cross-cultural juxtaposition is immense in this city of Lord Shiva. The Benarsis are renowned for their carefree and happy-go-lucky nature. The westerners who throng the city in multitudes are enamoured by the quaint charm of the city. The city is one of a kind and thrives on a 'masti' and vibe unique to it. No wonder, the 'thandai' that you get in Benares is like no other, bhaang or no bhaang. 

 

The residents are often blissfully unaware of their city's pull. I could never understand the fuss around my town while growing up. To me it was home and one doesn't question or analyse one's home. Not too much at least and never when you are young. It's the world-weary folks who march on a fault-finding mission. People from all over the world are drawn to Benares to experience life away from modern trappings. 

 

Benares has Gullys (lanes) that were built ages ago; it is the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world. These were not built for 2-way automobile traffic. Hence, don't be surprised if you are blocked by a braying cow or a barking dog, supremely squatted in the middle of the road. 

 

There are some of the finest artisans carving wood furniture and toys in this holy city. The Benarsi saree is complemented by the Benarsi Tanchoi, all made on the finest silk you can find. The street food of Beneras is quite extraordinary. You can eat to your heart's content for a pittance, - samosa, kachori, mithai, rasgulla, rasmalai from Ksheer Sagar and others, all evoke pangs of longing and exhibit the pull of Benares.

 

Kashi Vishwanath Gali - what can one say about it? Several narrow, winding lanes that lead to the famed Kashi Vishwanath temple are lined with shops selling everything from religious offerings to clothes to housewares. You can find the finest glass bangles here and exquisitely carved brass and copper items. I remember my mother buying us bright and beautiful wooden utensils sets and bangles etc from this gali which is a shopper's delight. The supari that is sold here is par excellence; the churan ki goli is apparently shipped worldwide.   

 

For me personally, the city is a repository of my childhood memories which are locked inside my heart and ingrained in my psyche. Those chiseled childhood memories of family bonding, festival gaiety, elaborate ceremonies, fun with friends and neighbourhood shenanigans! Those precious years of enjoying the simplicity of life, sibling affection, parental love and cocoon, of optimism and reverie, of loving life and dreaming big! 

 

There is so much that I picked up subconsciously in Benares that keeps popping up, surprising me above all. The little rituals, the signs, the different ways of Benarasis - all ingrained and instilled without any tutelage - that screams that I am a 'chhori Benares wali.'  

 

The tragedy of losing my parents and brother within a span of 8 years has made my Benares home a shrine, a place where my loved ones once lived, for me and my two sisters. Those memories remain etched forever, radiating warmth and glowing in the vacant corners of my mind and heart. Gurudham Colony has become even more precious if it's at all possible.

 

Any given time of the day I walk down the memory lane, and recall the love, the laughter, the arguments, the bantering, the quirkiness, the uniqueness and the large-heartedness of my parents. I remember the umpteen number of visits to partake in the Ganga aarti, the spectacular visual and sound of mass spiritual-high reaching a crescendo that leaves one spellbound!

 I recall the halcyon days of school life at the city's prestigious school St.johns school and the college life at the esteemed BHU. The academic high and the ensuing accolades at BHU instilled a new found vigour to tackle life and its umpteen challenges.

Accompanying my mother to Kashi Vishwanath temple every Monday was a ritual for years till the time her arthritis incapacitated her. Visiting Sankatamochan, Tulsi Manas Mandir every other day or giving a tour of Sarnath to relatives was routinely done. In retrospect, I realise that Benarsis regard visiting temples a customary practise. We are programmed to pay obeisance to our Gods at every given opportunity and consider ourselves to be the chosen ones. Kashi, as the folklore goes, is blessed to be standing on Lord Shiva's Trishul and no evil eye can damage the city. 

 

Life in Benaras was enriching, fulfilling, with the diverse impact of being exposed to the Hindu religion, the family priest, puja, temples, fasts, etc at home and getting a secular, western convent education at school. Neither was rammed down our throat. The diverse influences didn't hamper personality enhancement which happened seamlessly and organically as the values inherent in both exposures were in tandem with each other. There was no contradiction in thoughts and propagation. 

 

The essence and ethos of a vibrant and pulsating city like Benares, with all its glory and glitches, has shaped me as a person I think my parents would be proud of. Nostalgia and wistful reminiscesengulf me when I think of Benares and my home. I can almost smell the Singhar or the Madhumalti flowers that adorned the canopy at the entrance of my home. It is, after all, a place where my heart is! 

 

A Place where my heart is!- Benares ki yaadein

“When will you come next?"- my mother always asked at the time of my leaving my 'maika.' I could sense her palpable longing and my own heartbreak when saying goodbye. With a tremulous promise to be back soon, I always left with a heavy heart. 

 Those were the times of landline phones and weekly talks with parents were limited, stilted and to the point.

That my maika happens to be in Benares/Kashi/Varanasi is a blessing beyond belief. My heart has always belonged to Benares, my hometown, the place where I have lived for the major part of my growing years. My home, my colony, my school, my college, my friends, nearby localities, the restaurants, the shops - all bear testimony to the time spent there, well-lived and cherished. 

 

From the world-famous Benarsi saree, delectable sweets and chaat, the drool-worthy 'Benarsi paan' to the renowned temples, the mighty river Ganga and its many ghats, the quartet of universities and home to the famous Benares Hindu University (BHU), Benares is a tourist's delight.  

 

People regard Benares, Varanasi or Kashi (probably the only city to have 3 names) as the seat of Hindu culture and tradition. The cross-cultural juxtaposition is immense in this city of Lord Shiva. The Benarsis are renowned for their carefree and happy-go-lucky nature. The westerners who throng the city in multitudes are enamoured by the quaint charm of the city. The city is one of a kind and thrives on a 'masti' and vibe unique to it. No wonder, the 'thandai' that you get in Benares is like no other, bhaang or no bhaang. 

 

The residents are often blissfully unaware of their city's pull. I could never understand the fuss around my town while growing up. To me it was home and one doesn't question or analyse one's home. Not too much at least and never when you are young. It's the world-weary folks who march on a fault-finding mission. People from all over the world are drawn to Benares to experience life away from modern trappings. 

 

Benares has Gullys (lanes) that were built ages ago; it is the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world. These were not built for 2-way automobile traffic. Hence, don't be surprised if you are blocked by a braying cow or a barking dog, supremely squatted in the middle of the road. 

 

There are some of the finest artisans carving wood furniture and toys in this holy city. The Benarsi saree is complemented by the Benarsi Tanchoi, all made on the finest silk you can find. The street food of Beneras is quite extraordinary. You can eat to your heart's content for a pittance, - samosa, kachori, mithai, rasgulla, rasmalai from Ksheer Sagar and others, all evoke pangs of longing and exhibit the pull of Benares.

 

Kashi Vishwanath Gali - what can one say about it? Several narrow, winding lanes that lead to the famed Kashi Vishwanath temple are lined with shops selling everything from religious offerings to clothes to housewares. You can find the finest glass bangles here and exquisitely carved brass and copper items. I remember my mother buying us bright and beautiful wooden utensils sets and bangles etc from this gali which is a shopper's delight. The supari that is sold here is par excellence; the churan ki goli is apparently shipped worldwide.   

 

For me personally, the city is a repository of my childhood memories which are locked inside my heart and ingrained in my psyche. Those chiseled childhood memories of family bonding, festival gaiety, elaborate ceremonies, fun with friends and neighbourhood shenanigans! Those precious years of enjoying the simplicity of life, sibling affection, parental love and cocoon, of optimism and reverie, of loving life and dreaming big! 

 

There is so much that I picked up subconsciously in Benares that keeps popping up, surprising me above all. The little rituals, the signs, the different ways of Benarasis - all ingrained and instilled without any tutelage - that screams that I am a 'chhori Benares wali.'  

 

The tragedy of losing my parents and brother within a span of 8 years has made my Benares home a shrine, a place where my loved ones once lived, for me and my two sisters. Those memories remain etched forever, radiating warmth and glowing in the vacant corners of my mind and heart. Gurudham Colony has become even more precious if it's at all possible.

 

Any given time of the day I walk down the memory lane, and recall the love, the laughter, the arguments, the bantering, the quirkiness, the uniqueness and the large-heartedness of my parents. I remember the umpteen number of visits to partake in the Ganga aarti, the spectacular visual and sound of mass spiritual-high reaching a crescendo that leaves one spellbound!

 I recall the halcyon days of school life at the city's prestigious school St.johns school and the college life at the esteemed BHU. The academic high and the ensuing accolades at BHU instilled a new found vigour to tackle life and its umpteen challenges.

Accompanying my mother to Kashi Vishwanath temple every Monday was a ritual for years till the time her arthritis incapacitated her. Visiting Sankatamochan, Tulsi Manas Mandir every other day or giving a tour of Sarnath to relatives was routinely done. In retrospect, I realise that Benarsis regard visiting temples a customary practise. We are programmed to pay obeisance to our Gods at every given opportunity and consider ourselves to be the chosen ones. Kashi, as the folklore goes, is blessed to be standing on Lord Shiva's Trishul and no evil eye can damage the city. 

 

Life in Benaras was enriching, fulfilling, with the diverse impact of being exposed to the Hindu religion, the family priest, puja, temples, fasts, etc at home and getting a secular, western convent education at school. Neither was rammed down our throat. The diverse influences didn't hamper personality enhancement which happened seamlessly and organically as the values inherent in both exposures were in tandem with each other. There was no contradiction in thoughts and propagation. 

 

The essence and ethos of a vibrant and pulsating city like Benares, with all its glory and glitches, has shaped me as a person I think my parents would be proud of. Nostalgia and wistful reminisces engulf me when I think of Benares and my home. I can almost smell the Singhar or the Madhumalti flowers that adorned the canopy at the entrance of my home. It is, after all, a place where my heart is! 

 

'Heera mandi' - sparkles intermittently!

Decadent, Opulent, Indulgent!!

Heera Mandi, a polarising spectacle that dances between brilliance and mediocrity. 

Heera mandi on Netflix is SLB’s 8 hours long magnum opus based on the lives of courtesans in Lahore's red light area before the partion. 

The lavish sets, intricate costumes, chaste Urdu articulated elegantly, lilting songs with mesmerising picturisation, intense confrontational scenes between the lead actors in every episode, the tense atmospherics etc keep the narrative floating. 

However the abrupt ending which switches the series’s leit motif from tawaifs' rivalry-cum-revenge into a joint effort towards independence from Britishers feels contrived, leaving much to be desired.

Manisha Koirala, Sonakshi Sinha, Farida Jalal, Taha Shah, Ustaad ji, and Aditi Rao infuse vitality into their characters, but newcomer Sharmeen's portrayal in a significant role lacks depth. Regrettably, she emerges as the weakest link in the series, alongside the shallow portrayal of debauched nawabs and the caricatured depiction of British exploiters.

Despite its few shortcomings, ‘Heera Mandi’ remains a captivating one-time watch, being unduly criticized for its real and perceived failings. Probably the maker’s image as a celluloid magician escalated the expectations sky high. 

To truly connect with and enjoy the series, people should release their prejudices and embrace SLB's vision of that era. It's not flawless but its imperfections are eclipsed by moments of seductive allure."

Diamonds are forever. And this ‘Heera’ does sparkle intermittently!

FARREY movie review

Farrey (small chits of paper with answers that students sneak into exam halls) may not have been on my movie radar, but watching it turned out to be a pleasant surprise. 

Alizeh Agnihotri as a genius orphan who tops class 10th and subsequently gets admitted to an elite school, impresses in her lead role, as do the rest of the ensemble cast. The film’s innovative, thought provoking theme, and slick narrative kept me hooked.

Despite moments where suspension of disbelief was stretched, the film crafted an absorbing tale of underprivileged youth’s aspirations and the allure of wealth, deftly exploring the manipulation by privileged elites. While not entirely original, the theme was handled with intrigue, with a subtle moral lesson woven throughout.

What I appreciated most was its ability to engage without being overbearingly preachy!

FYI- Alizeh is Salman khan’s niece. Nepotism debate can take a backseat if the ones who benefit deliver the goods.

(Note- Farrey is streaming on Zee5 platform.)