Has anyone caught the latest Aishwarya Rai wala Coke Ad? I can swear that if she gets her hair streaked gray instead of blonde, she can easily pass for the mother...

Has anyone caught MTV Roadies?
Sheer display of down the drain Indian values. A total letdown on the youth. Every episode caters to the wild sentiments of any youth and explores the vulgarities of young life.
I don't think its a reality show. I think its all scripted and all those weirdos out there seriously need to reconsider the shame they're bringing to their parents who've certainly not brought them up in the spirit they showcase.
If someone from a respectable Delhi family is caught doing stuff or even participating in that show, his/her entry would be banned in this city. Such a degradation of moral values seriously demands censorship.
Airing at primetime, this show is bound to catch the attention of teenagers like me - if people are so desparate to air such a demeaning showcase, it should be after 11:00pm or so...
Then again, with the 'Meri Berry ke Ber' remixes on the music channels, I think there are a lot more agendas to be taken care of alongwith.

I officially start my pre-boards today.
Today's the day I enter school for one of the last times.
Today's the day I would 'try' to be nice to everyone I can.
Today's the day I show off my new phone.
Today's the day I don't argue with my teachers.
And while I'm at it.. I'll try to pass the accountancy preboard.

*sigh*

I could taste the nostalgia today. Never thought leaving Modern could be nostalgic. I've been waiting for this to end for ages... until now. I guess its not about leaving school, its more about marking an end to childhood.
The red sand beneath me seemed fiery and the green leaves seemes fresher. The almost edible food at the canteen didn't taste so bad after all. Even the bathrooms smelled good.
The covers of the D.T.C. bus seats that we so fondly tore apart now seemed smooth under my fingers and comfortable. Very comfortable. The rattling bus and the infinite seatbreakers didn't bother me once.
As we entered the bus this afternoon, we were stared at by the eleventh graders who didn't anticipate our arrival after the disappearance of a month. And as we made our way to the last seat, one of them blurted - 'Didi, can't you sit somewhere else? We're used to sitting here now, we'd have to move.'
My friend politely disposed his comment, but it bothered me. For us, this bus ride is suddenly such a luxury, this school is suddenly such an honor, this childhood is suddenly so important. For them, its just time for us to move on and them to take place on the last seat.
But I didn't blame them. It was only now that I realized I never thought of all those who moved on. And now, in a few days, I would no longer be in school. The ones gone were no longers the seniors or the juniors. They were just the ex-modernites. I too would join the others.
Ex-child. Ex-innocent. Ex-carefree.

I feel sorry for fellow school going children and their parents fishing out multiple thousands each year to provide them with decent education. According to Dr. Karan Singh, the youth of today in schools is a very priviledged lot compared to the amount of poverty in the country. So they should make the best of it and aim towards the achievement of highest academic goals.
Reading through my english chapters today, one of which constitutes the above address by Dr. Karan Singh, I reflected upon a question I asked in class.
The english coursebook is full of matter relating to the encouragement of humanity and the shunning of materialism. Most literature chapters are followed by exercises with frequent 'Do you agree?' or 'Write your opinion".
So I asked my enlgish teacher that if I thought that humanism was only a figment of our fertile imagination, could I write that in the paper? Or if I thought that materialism is the road to progression and a way of life, could I express that in the board? If they're asking me if I agree, do I have a right to refute? If they're asking me of my opinion, could I be honest about it and write the way I perceive it? Can I brave expression antagonistic to what the author has stressed on? Are the examiners really willing to know what I feel?
She smiled, almost laughed. "No, you can't write contradictory to the author's statements - the examiners are only looking for repetition of the author's ideas".
And they call this education...

Flipping through the latest edition of Femina today, I realized how misunderstood women really are.
For some reason, the nation has concluded that all we think about is clothes, open pores, high heels, pimples, backless tops, oily skin, chapped lips, Shahrukh Khan, earrings, hair color and the likes.
For some reason the woman consumer is also targeted as immensely dumb and insensate. More that 30% of the magazine is spammed with advertisements ranging from shampoos to Ritu Kumar. And all this despite the fast that almost 90% of the people behind the editing of the magazine are women.
For some reason, men for women are only limited to the size of their biceps and the first time they shaved. The endless interviews with assumingly 'interesting' men end with the same note as they begin.
For some reason, the horoscopes seem the same for every sunsign except for the sheer play of words and it excites me to think that my entire year would go like January, which according to Femina is a probability for each month the same predictions would repeat themselves.
For some reason, the prettiest of women in the world give interviews that beauty is only skin deep and the next page shows you ways to hide the ugly marks on your face.
For some reason, the tagline says 'For Generation W' - I am still in the process of figuring what the 'W' really stands for. Weird? Wasteful? Worthless?
For some reason, for the first time in my life I flipped through Femina so carefully as to notice such details. Well, there was a reason really. The Archie's from the loo are removed - so one really doesn't have a choice...

Weddings are a boon for the wedding arrangers.
The groom/bride are too tired and irritated to enjoy the wedding - considering all the artificiality that creeps in and the forever long conversations they have to make with all sorts of people.
The parents of the groom/bride are too tensed to enjoy the wedding - considering they have to take care of all the arrangements and are the primary targets for queries and botherations.
The relatives are all quite agitated to actually enjoy the wedding - considering the long distances they have to travel, the expenditure they have to do on clothing and most of all, giving money and gifts to the bride/groom - a burden on their pockets, practically speaking.
The friends are too oblivious to enjoy the wedding - considering they're asked to do favours by people they don't even know and are expected to take care of the timidest of requests by those who tend to climb on other's heads.
So, like I said - the only people who end up being happy are the ones with the green bucks - the ones who arrange the grand ceremony - which apparently, no one enjoys.

I wrote this remembering a long lost friend. We were once best friends, but difference in perceptions caused us to part. I've tried since to be friends again, but the suggestion has been disposed as infantile - since people change with time, and no two people remain the same two people. I however, S, am the same person you left behind four years back. And although we will never be together again, and I will always cherish your letters and moments spent with you, I will also pray to God that he gives me the power to forget you.. and forgive you.

Why do you trouble me so often,
Dominating my thoughts in the nights,
Imparting hope to once cross each other,
Without being oblivious to sight?

You pretend not to notice,
When accidently your eyes meet mine.
But I know you recognize me,
Just as the deaf recognizes rhyme.

You said 'ice' suits me fine,
For I am frigid where I should be kind,
Too sour when I should be sweet,
Not a mango, but just a lime.

I have tried to patch things,
Seldom, but surely, have also cried.
You said we can't be the same as before,
But only because, you didn't try.

Suddenly its a contrast between us,
You're the 'candy' and I'm the 'lime'.
I blame it on half-hearted attempts,
You can just blame it on time.

And years I will live remembering you,
Hoping you lead a happy life,
Cursing you still from the wounded ends,
Blessings can't be in a better disguise.

I know you have nothing to say to me,
You refused to even bother saying goodbye.
But I have these four years to share,
And those three which have long passed us by.

I want to leave you with my memories,
As we climb opposite towers,
The salty tears which reach your tongue,
Will from now on taste sour...

Who said popularity is good? Just when this blog gained some, the host cribbed about the traffic restrictions being violated and boom - the blog goes down. I think some sort of taantrik needs to be informed and hired in order to do the jhadoo ritual on the webserver which apparently loves to sleep every few days. And boy, does it like to hibernate!
Perhaps some pret-aatma has undertaken the task of spookying the DNS away - must be some pichhle janam ke paap for which I am to pay the price so dearly. I try to recall if I ever was a server administrator in my last birth and played with the FTP access and domain configurations of my hostees - but in vain. Alas, it must've been something else I've done.
Maybe the guy behind it all just got tired of my cribbing and decided to give me a break.

Worked on something creative after a long time. Most of my time is gobbled gleefully by increasing board tensions considering the practicals are slaughtering my sleep.
Raunaq cared to initiate the Sweet & Sour Battle at Surfunion - and I never found the time to send a reply. Did that today. Check it out.
I am also thinking on the lines of shutting this blog in April. Mainly because the server space expires - and I don't have the will to carry on with domain breakdowns. I am already freaked enough with the portfolio. I might continue the blog, but I want to work on it with Gursimran.com itself. Don't want to make it a separate domain - its all a part of one person anyway, so why split it up?
Farewell ceremony is day after. I am still not ready with my Sari. Reminds me of teacher's day - but I was prepared then. Oh well, as if anyone's really going to care what anyone's wearing. Just being together for one last time overshadows all the minor details.
Sounds good to pacify myself really. Like Jagjit Singh sings in one of my favorite ghazals - 'Dil ke khush rakhne ko, Ghalib yeh khayal achha hai'. Which reminds me, I'd have to skip the Jagjit Singh night in order to be a part of the farewell.
Just when I thought life was taking it easy on me... *sigh*

Its baffling how much the media has an impact on our daily lives. And how imburdened we're to Ekta Kapoor and the likes for giving metaphors to daily objects and happenings.
Any bad woman in the family is a 'Pallavi' - in years I think people will stop naming their kids Pallavi, in fear of the possible impacts the name might have on their personality. Any overdressed woman is a branded 'Komolika' - extra eyeliner, strappy blouses, dark lipsticks and the likes.
A man of noticable personality and a well-groomed walk is a 'Rishab Bajaj' and a parent's son is 'Om'.
I went shopping for a farewell sari today. After rejecting a dozen offers, he called out to a hired help - 'Get the Ramola Sikand sari'. At that moment, I realized how exploitable the media has become and how exploited are us consumers.
Rejecting that too, I walked out feeling sad how starrey-eyed we really are. Accordingly, my denims can be 'Bipasha jeans' or heels can be 'Kareena sandals'. Either way, everytime I look at something or someone, I know, I am starred for life!

The farewell was last night. A lot of nostalgia with a severe lack of wet hankies. The sorrows of partying were drowned in loud head-banging punjabi music and saying goodbye was a far cry from sobbing. Perhaps thats a good thing in its own sweet way.
Summarizing it in one blog post would neither be possible nor be fair to my loyalties to my teenage years, so I think I'd save it for another day.
For now - catch glimpses of it here.
And tell me, I looked good - I need to hear that!

I have had the pleasure (?) of having a Mandir just few blocks away from what I like to call 'home'. The holy spirits send across their love in the form of very loud pooja blearing from the loudspeakers, aptly positioned right across my house - day, afternoon and evening.
It is of course not of consideration to the devouts that few people might be trying to accomplish their academic goals and this country is in a big mess if religion comes in their way. Does God have spare time at two in the afternoon or five in the evening? How do they decide when exactly to start off and when to conclude?
What surprises me even further is how musically inclined the Param-aatma really is. And how piracy is the key to the heaven's doors. I can hear remixed versions of popular songs coming in from all ends at odd times, the only difference being in the lyrics. 'Pyaar ho jaege' from our famous around-the-tree songs becomes 'Paap ho jaega'.
My fears are purely limited to the all-mighty's blessings. Will I be devoid of any if I don't sing relyricized bollywood songs into loudspeakers at inappropriate hours? If that be the case, I doubt if I'd ever pass school at all...

We indians have some double standards. When a girl wears naval-exposing short tops, the aunties raise their eyebrows and brand her as 'very modern and western' with no regards to culture and society. The parents are blamed for unfit upbringing and the blame is shifted to too much television.
Lest do they notice that the blouses with their sari's are much shorter and the exposure more daring...

This is my entry for the mega battle. The battle between two forums, one purely desi and the other totally rocking. Tough one, but I sure as hell have tied my kamar.
The concept is called 'Denim Venom' - the venom of denim spreads upwards from the legs. I don't know if its very clear, but I know it looks quite cool. What do you guys think, eh?

I recall quite clearly the fad amongst toddlers to be able to do the essential and important things that run their house by themselves. Especially if God made them female.
Whether its playing 'house' or 'shop', one always showed immense enthusiasm and unquestionable spontaneity. Misty memories of lining up housing essentials and putting price tags on them, exchangable for a bagful of candies, of which if one ate a single - it could result in fights of catastrophic proportions.
But soon it got all dull. It can never be very exciting to repeat transactions knowing that neither the commodity, nor the medium of exchange will ultimately stay in your hands. The adults of the household would impart fair warnings of keeping clear of any hazards or breakages amongst the goods sold. The toddlers would giggle and exchange a bottle of perfume for ten candies.
Playing house had always been a more serious matter. No one messes with the head of the house. But of course, that could've been decided by drawing out chits with neatly scribbled initials or by taking a vote. Then a folding bed would be folded in on the sun-bathed garden as an inverted 'V' and three kids would manage to hide underneath decorating the 'walls' with leaves and flowers.
Food wasn't much of a problem. Construction material was mixed artfully with some water and beaten to our heart's content. And often some chunks of dirt were sent in to act as 'onion' or even 'chicken'. And creatively named as delectable dishes out of a restaurant menu.
The whole play got even more exciting when the household needed some Maggi. Then 'shop' had to be integrated in our world to make ends meet. A whole day of satisfying play led to solid conclusions of being responsible heads of our houses one day.
If only life was so simple. Never replenishing candies exchangable for anything in this world to run a house - just enough to cover our heads from the scorching sun, decorated with inexpensive things - and to satisfy us, physically and emotionally...