Preggie Talk Again

Think only Gabby will read me at this rate :)

At the antenatal class we (The girls) ask the instructor how exactly do contractions feel.

'Different women react differently but to give you an idea, I can say it feels like extremely strong period cramps,' she says.

'Oh...O...okay...alright...ummm..think I can deal with that...well maybe not...' we nod our heads, understanding exactly what she's talking about. Well almost.

Predictably (and cruelly for the boys perhaps), the conversation turns briefly to period cramps, in an effort to find out exactly how bad would the contractions be.

We suddenly realise the men in the room seem to have vanished. Two have queued up outside the loo (and out of earshot), one is in the instructor's kitchen taking a long time over a glass of water (when she's thoughtfully placed a whole jug in the table next to us), one is peering intently into his mobile, the fifth one (mine) has suddenly developed tremendous interest in greenery and is inspecting the plants on the balcony very closely.

Boys will be boys. And girls will be well...girls.

Remix

Poor Ram Gopal Varma. He and the factory seem to have run out of ideas. Why else would he want to remake James, Shiva and Sholay? I'm sorry but the very thought has me in splits. Especially when I read that the Sholay remake is to be called 'Ramgopal Varma Ki Sholay.' Yes. The man is serious. Reminds me of a C-grade movie made years back with all those Amitabh and Dharmendra lookalikes and Amjaad Khan. It was called Ramgarh Ke Sholay. Hehehe.
Why are Bollywood directors into remakes? That too of a film released in 1975, one released in the early 90s (?) and one released what, some two months back? Hollywood does remakes too and sometimes successfully but I wonder if it works for Bollywood. Our movies seem to stay longer in our memory shelves. Perhaps it's because of the songs.

(Though I dunno if anyone remembers any songs from Shiva. In fact, I don’t recall the movie at all, except that it had a very hairy Nagarjuna and lots of fights.)
In recent years, the recall value is perhaps higher because of the combined might of Zee Cinema/Sony Max, etc, which repeat these films often enough to ensure that no memory lapses occur.
Which makes me wonder if we’ll be interested in watching the all-new Umraojaan by JP Dutta. It was only made in 1981 and I tend to remember stuff from that many years back at least (except for Shiva, ha ha). And for God's sake, Aishwarya Rai? Can you imagine the film without Rekha in it? Without Farooq Shaikh's elegant portrayal of Nawab Sultan? And what are they going to do about the songs? How do you expect to match or surpass gems like 'justju jiski thi...' and 'In ankhon ki masti ke....'
The remade Sholay could do with some nice music though. Kill me if you are a Sholay fan and bought cassettes with 'songs and dialogues from Sholay' in your misguided youth (I know people who did) but music ain't that film's strong point. Ok, I'm not talking about the background score here.
Perhaps Ramu could introduce Gabbar Singh to that 'haunting' item number from James: 'Woh hero hai, hero hai, woh hai hero....' After all, Gabbar is the real hero of Sholay isn't he? And with Big B playing that role he'll dwarf everyone else in it anyway.
And since Ramu is remaking both James and Sholay it shouldn't be a problem to lift bits and parts from here and there, eh? That’s what remixes are all about.

Why I'll Never Be Rich

Dear Direct Marketing Representative,

First, I’d like to thank you for thinking so kindly about my future prospects and informing me that I could earn so much money by just signing up with the marketing network you are part of.
Thank you for wanting to be my mentor in the noble business of moneymaking and showing me how to butter my bread lavishly without having to spend much on butter. In fact, simply by sitting at home and bullying my friends to sign up with the network.
There’s only one small problem. I would love to earn money but I get tongue-tied when I have to convince other people to help me do that. Blame it on me being an ex-print journalist. Money is an alien concept to us, asking for it more so.
And there’s one more thing. You see, I do love having friends and I’m very scared that once I start calling people in my ‘friend and confidant’ tone and telling them that I want to discuss a business idea which is the next best thing after Maggi Noodles, I’ll have no friends left. Yes, even if I said I was horribly broke because I can’t hide the husband and they all know he is still working and we still own a car.
You’ve given me a booklet and a lecture which says I must not ‘prejudge anyone.’ Now the problem is that being the extremely stuck up variety, (I’m very honest about my faults, as you’ll see) I’m likely to. I’ll look at Friend No. 1 and say, ‘Nah, they’re both doctors. What do they need extra money for?’ and I’ll dismiss Friend No. 2 on the grounds that she has twins and asking her to do anything else is being cruel to her. I know, I know, this is just the kind of mindset that your booklet warns me against but what to do? I simply don’t have the ‘think out of the box’ brain.
A suicide threat is perhaps the only way I can convince my friends to part with their hard earned cash (Pls. note the perhaps), sign a contract, become part of the world’s foremost ‘multi-level-marketing system’ (to quote you respectfully) and hand in hand proceed towards becoming millionaires.
Ok, maybe millionaire is a long shot but you did say that just by signing up (and continuing the chain) I could earn at least Rs 8,000 a month first, then Rs 50,000 and then more than a lakh!
Yes my pupils did dilate and my eyes did pop and you thought I was finally coming to my senses and getting hooked. But let me be honest. That was on account of the numbers. You see, having been a lifestyle journalist for the larger part of my working life, I go a bit blank when the talk is about anything else but clothes and lipsticks. Also blame it on me being Bong. Bissness is not in awaar blaad. I’m also not very good with household work and fear I’ll horribly muck up when I show them the advantages of your cleaning concentrate as opposed to Surf Excel, Ariel, Nirma, etc.
So with due respect and profound thanks, I shall ask you to stop wasting your precious time as I simply won’t sign up. I know by doing this I’m losing out on the chance to display my inherent leadership skills (as spotted by you) and retire by the age of 35 with enough time to spend with my children and enough money to ski at St. Moritz every year. But what to do? You’ve got the wrong girl here. She’s lazy, tongue-tied and simply doesn’t have vision. And she’s also stupidly stubborn.

So goodbye. Don’t ring my bell again or I’ll display more character faults.

Warm Regards,
Rash

Nine Months

Warning: Baby Talk.

In less than a month (old hands say in less than 3 weeks) there'll be a baby in our lives, unless it's lazy and refuses to meet the parents on time :-)

I've never held a newborn. Seriously. Never. Not while their heads were wobbly anyway.
However when I muttered this aloud at the Antenatal Class, two voices echoed the same thing too, so I'm probably not the odd one out here. I'm a bit freaked out. But in a good way. In a very good and happy way.

The belly has developed a life of its own. It jiggles, squirms, pokes out, gets kicked and oh yes, does it increase! It continues to be a source of entertainment to all my near and dear ones. Have never been in such entertainer mode before. The other day the baby poked some body part (a toe?) through the belly. P was so entertained, since then he's been trying to poke it back to get baby to respond in similar fashion. We don't need TV anymore, we have Ze Belly.

Nothing fits me anymore. Not even large size capri pants from Fabindia's very small-sized maternity section. And I used to wear XS size from Fabindia. Nothing I've bought in the earlier months of pregnancy fit, except a tunic and magic pants from Motherware. The pants have a funny pouch to hold the belly, which rules out sexy short tops. But thank you MW. At least they fit. I largely survive on trackpants, which I keep buying at scary rate as the belly keeps rejecting them soon enough.

Friends who are parents are trying to be wonderful by sharing with us their birth stories. These usually go on the lines of 'the lift was out of order so we had to climb down 10 floors after her water broke' and 'there was no room available at the maternity ward so we had to wait 18 hours' or sinister stuff like that. And they're all predicting it'll be anytime now. Since I do not believe in predictions unless done by Marjorie Orr, I'm sure baby won't arrive before time.

P is charting out alternative routes to the hospital. To his great frustration, all of these involve the unavoidable Bangalore traffic, unless our child is kind and sends us to the hospital sometime past midnight.

And I'm trying to walk, work, cook, clean, read books and blogs and do things as usual. And waiting to see my toes again while standing straight.

A Fantastic Childhood?

Can you imagine a childhood spent without having read a single fantasy novel or fairy tale? I can't. Which is why I had such an incredulous expression on my face when I met Mrs Alternative and her six-year-old boy at a puppetry workshop conducted by my friend recently.

Mrs Alt was very charming and friendly and we got talking soon. It inevitably started with bump talk (how many months, weight gain, diet, etc) and somehow moved on to books and theatre, the latter also being Mrs Alt's line of work. When my friend joined we ended up talking about children's books and Mrs Alt revealed that she was not 'in favour of fairy tales and fantasy fiction.'

We were intrigued and asked her the reason to which she said she and her husband did not believe in them. Fantasy did not give children any idea of reality and created the impression of a false world. At this point the expression on my face got too obvious and my tongue started to loosen up, which is why I stayed mum and prefered listening to her.

While my friend and Mrs Alt had a civilized but heated discussion, I thought of the time in childhood when I first read 'The Borrowers' and spent quite a long time imagining an entire colony of people living under the floor tiles. Or of the long summer vacation afternoons at my aunt's house when an old wardrobe was the object of my imagination.

I wish I could say to each her own after hearing out Mrs Alt. We are all welcome to stick to our individual decisions, principles, beliefs etc, because we are adults with a mind of our own and the ability (hopefulyl) to discern between what we think is right or wrong. But is it fair to impose it on children without giving them a chance to explore, experiment and see what they really like and dislike? What they really believe in or are indifferent to? By forcing our ideas and our beliefs on an impressionable mind, aren't we then creating only half a world for the child?

It's Better In Goa

Whatta happy coincidence. Two days after I spot Frank Simoes' Goa at a local bookstore and leave it behind for later as I'm not carrying enough cash, not even my overused credit card, I get a gift from Kahini and guess what it is?

The very same book, which she spotted while on a crazy book buying spree at Reader's Bookshop, Santacruz.

Before it was reissued in its current avatar, this book used to called Glad Seasons In Goa, a better name than the current one. We were unaware of its existence untill Kahini discovered a dog-eared copy that belonged to her brother in law, read it at one go, regretted not having read it before she met Frank Simoes (lucky girl) and passed it on to moi.

Like her, I loved it instantly. If you love Goa (like most of us do), this book is a must-read. In fact, you probably have it on your bookshelf already. Nothing else gives a better picture of a life that seems to be spent building a wonderful house, tackling the Goan monsoon, meeting people like Aloysius the master carpenter and Barty and Bostao, sampling great prwan balchao, rowing friendly fishermen to St Anthony's Bar in Baga, drinking three fingers of various spirited stuff and living it up to the hilt.

Of course, the late advertising legend did much, much more with his life but we're glad he also took time off to write this book, probably sitting on the balcony of Rockheart, with the whisky and the typewriter.

Unrelated Updates

Watched Legends of The Fall on TV this evening. I have no idea who the programming brains at Star Movies are but would someone please tell me why gems like this film are slotted for 6.30 on a weekday evening? That's when people are usually at work or stuck in traffic or cooking dinner or simply occupied with other stuff to put their feet up and enjoy a good film.

Sometime after the film, I was having a TV dinner and channelsurfing when I came across FTV and guess what were their programming brains showing? A strip show! Complete with bustiers coming off to reveal what lies beneath. At 10 pm. When all the kids and preteens across the nation have definitely gone off to sleep. And we make a fuss about poor Khushboo's comments on pre-marital sex. What a country we are!

Prams and strollers aren't the way they used to be. Yeah I know if you are a parent you must be smirking at my ignorance but this is for the uninitiated. They're now called all-terrain pushchairs and travel systems and can look somewhat like this. The man is so excited it almost seems like he is buying a car.



















Going by the newspapers, Bangalore is full of techies and rowdies. No other category stands out more. Every other day I read about techies being 'assaulted' or 'robbed' or 'awarded' or about 'one rowdy beaten up.' Wondering if Delhi papers have any special categories like these. Can only think of 'Businessman robbed.' Too boring. Kahini tells me Calcutta papers specialise in 'goons.' Still, you can't beat the rowdies and techies.