Why I love Junior Masterchef

For those who know me, it is not difficult to guess why I am hooked to this show. I love food and everything to do with it. The joy of creating a new dish gives me a sense of achievement and satisfaction that I hardly get from anything else I do. The kitchen is where I relax and the toughest days are when I produce the best dinners. But, it is not just the brilliance of these young cooks that make it one of the best TV shows that I have watched, it is something much bigger. This show has changed my idea of a kid's reality show. I always abhorred the idea of such shows and this was of course on the basis of the Indian and few American reality shows that I had watched. How, you would ask, is this competition any different? To answer this, I would first like to talk about what my perception of a kid's reality show was. 

Every show that I had watched had the same premise. Kids with aspirations and dreams and goals that make me feel like a loser, parents harping on their kid's talents and when not selected how unfair/partial the judges are, extraordinary talent (in many cases), kids speaking beyond their years and of course, the tears and the drama. The format invariably involved elimination based on one performance, in some cases, even the audience votes and the crushing of some huge dreams and parent's pride. So, here was my idea of a reality show for kids. And, frankly, I hated it. Much more than a Big Boss or a Dance India Dance or any other clone. They always made me feel glad that I was born in the 80s and were perhaps the last generation where our childhood was ours.

And, then comes Junior Masterchef. For the very first time, I believed that you could do a show with kids where you showcase the talents, hone their skills, teach them to dream without taking away their innocence and childhood. What stood out for me is the format of this show which was very different from Masterchef. And, understandably so. Unlike the adult version, this does not have eliminations based on one bad performance. Yes, there are the invention tests, mystery box challenges and the pressure test. But a child's talent or future in the Masterchef kitchen is not decided by one performance alone. Each test has three winners and they get points. This, for me, is the gem of this show. It gives the child hope and at the same the desire to be better. One bad day in the kitchen does not mean the end of the road. I was amazed when yesterday a few kids were awarded one point as they were the most improved and I realized that it was done so that no one has a zero in the points tally. Imagine, how excited a child would be when Donna Hay awards him his first point because he is the most improved cook or his joy when he realizes that he too has a point.

What can I say about the judges? That everyone who has kids or who work with kids should learn a trick or two from them? We have seen them in the adult version of the show and now here and they seem to be two different personalities. They do not behave like judges but mentors, guides, inspiration and rightly so. The metamorphosis from hard to please task masters to extremely kind and gentle teachers is a treat for the eyes. 

So, why cannot we have a show like this? It is not the dearth of talent but the twisted idea that talent alone cannot get TRPs. My request to the reality show makers is to watch this show and LEARN (pardon the use of caps).

Finally, of course, this show is loved by all not because of the stories of how a child has braved hardships  to reach here or how he is making his parent's proud but the sheer talent that we get to see. Kids are and remain kids here.

And, yes, I do get teary eyed at the end of each episode. When I see such a brilliant display of talent, I cry.

January Shoes

As I had mentioned in an earlier post, one of my resolutions for this year is that I would buy a pair of shoes every month, so here they are - My January Shoes!

I love these shoes, they fit well, are quite comfortable for such high heels and they have this butterfly which was, in fact, what made me buy these shoes in the first place.

Shoe happy is the best happy! :)

January Shoes

No Ma'm, we do not like short hair here

Last week, I was at the airport waiting for my cab. There was a group of foreigners next to me. A girl was staring at me, I smiled at her. She walked up to me and told me that I am the second Indian woman she has seen with short hair and the first with short hair and a sari.

That got me thinking. You actually do not see many Indian women with short hair. Sure there are women who sport stylish bobs but really short, boy cuts, not many. I pictured all the women I knew and realized that only one of them had short hair. Even the celebrities do not have short hair. In the West, we see celebrities with short hair like Meg Ryan, but not here. Sure, they do wear wigs at times but they do not chop off their hair. Why?

I asked my male friends and most of them said that they prefer girls with long hair. Is it because of that? We always look for that nod of approval, esp from our partners and in most cases short hair does not get that. I know that the BF does not like me with short hair. But, what the heck, it is my hair and I will wear it the way I want to.

I still do not know why we do not see many Indian women with short hair and I want to know what people have to say about it. Do share your thoughts on it.

To Do List for 2012

Yes I know New Year and the time for making resolutions is gone. Why now, you may ask. Well, I make resolutions and am usually pathetic when it comes to keeping them So, this year I decided to give myself a month and see if I actually make any efforts in keeping them and if I do, then I would list them. Am happy to announce that I have been quite good so here is the list.

1. Buy one pair of shoe every month. This is the best resolution that I have ever taken. It does not require much of an effort considering the shoe crazy person that I am. There is also a penalty attached to this. In case I do not buy a pair in a particular month, I have to buy 3 the next month. One for the previous month, one for the current and one is the penalty.
2. Read the books that are already there on the shelf and then buy new books. Basically buy fewer books.
3. Write regularly
4. Finish the incomplete stories
5. Gift myself a car this birthday.
6. Be organized
7. Travel to atleast 5 new destinations
8. Yearly trip to Gokarna 
9. Join a gym/swimming/yoga. Exercise!
10. Eat and cook more veggies.
11. Learn to cook atleast 5 new cuisines
12. Take care of myself 
13. Be more patient and less impulsive
14. Learn to like my job or find something that I like
15. Visit Delhi and College 
16. Go to Benaras with Sangy to buy the Benarasi sari
17. Lal Paar Dhakai Jamdaani
18. Answer calls/messages and call people back
19. Find and join a book club in Bangalore
20. Not let go off nautanki me under any circumstance.

Lost and Found

Mr. Sen was not in the best of his moods. There were people everywhere, in every corner of the house. He did not even know the name of half the people sitting around him. But then, he was never good with names. He looked at Ena and thought how old and haggard she looked. He smiled remembering their last meeting. It was 46 years ago. Well, he was older too. And people said that he was senile. What did people know?

Tanima looked at her Grand Uncle. She was afraid yet attracted to him. Her mother had warned her to stay away from Bododadu. He is mad is what her mother had told her. As Tanima stared at him she tried to find traces of the madness but all she saw was an old man with many, many wrinkles. She felt an intense urge to go close to him and count the wrinkles, touch them. He stared back and smiled at her. Tanima shuddered and hid her face in her mother's pallu. No one in the room noticed this exchange.

That little girl looks like Ena when she was younger, must be Ena's grand daughter, Mr. Sen thought to himself. He instantly liked her. Finally, someone in this house who is worth liking, he smiled. Just then, Jhumur asked him his opinion. Mr. Sen realised that they were in the middle of some discussion which he clearly had missed. He just shrugged. Jhumur looked happy and said that all was settled now. The others felt relieved too.

"Is Bododadu mad?" Tanima asked her Thakuma.

Ena was startled. "Of course not, who told you that?"

"Ma." Tanima was happy. She knew her Thakuma could never be wrong.

"Tell me more about Bododadu."

"Your Bododadu was my cousin and my best friend. We grew up in this house and were inseparable. Our friendship alienated us from all our cousins, for them the fact that we never fought made us weird. Today, I think they were jealous."

"Why does Ma not let me go near him? Why does Ma call him mad?"

"He chose to live life on his terms, it made a lot of people unhappy and hostile. They never understood him and so they branded him mad".

"But why were others not happy with him? Why did they want him to be like them? Ma and Babu are different but they don't call each other mad?"

"You are too young to understand it little girl. But know this, Bododadu is not mad. In fact, he is the smartest of all."

                                                          ****************

Mr. Sen was listening to old records when Ena knocked at his door.

"Since when do you need to knock?"

"It is a long time, you know. 46 years."

"I know. But have I changed? No, not for you." He smiled.

"Are you still angry with me?"

"I was. For a very long time, I hated to even hear your name. Perhaps that is why I never replied to any of your letters. But, age also gives you wisdom along with these wrinkles. I am not angry anymore. I understand why you did it."

"I have cursed myself so many times for not having the courage to listen to you. Life could have been so different."

"Don't complain Ena. You have done quite good. Tanima, isn't she your granddaughter? She is pretty, looks like you."

"Yes, she is. Quite a handful. She was asking me the other day if you are mad."

"So, what did you tell her? That Bododadu is the maddest mad". He smiled.

"No. I said that you are brave and smart."

"Pfff. All lies. Do not feed lies into a small girl's head. I was mad. I have always been mad, reckless and see where I am today."

"I wanted to speak to you about that. Why did you agree to sell the house?"

"Sell the house? Who wants to do that? I never agreed."

"Oh Chayan, you will never change. Jhumur asked you at the breakfast table and you said yes."

"So that was what he asked. He he. They want to sell the house. Good."

"You will let them sell this house? This is where we grew up, this is where you spent your life."

"Ena, this house is too big for me. I cannot look after it. It makes more sense."

"You have grown wiser."

"You mean old."

"Yes, we all are. But you are wiser too. So where will you go?"

"I have a small house in the hills. Have never told any of these mongrels. He he. I am smart that way. Will go there, do some gardening, read and wait for death. What about you?"

"Not such a wonderful life. I am the football, passed around my children once every 3 - 4 months. No one likes an old lady."

"Why don't you come and stay with me? It would be more comfortable for you."

"What would they say?"

"Ena, do you still care? You have already given them everything. You deserve to spend the last few years of your life your way."

                                                      **********************

Everyone was assembled at the living room. Ena had called them. There were murmurs in the room.

"I have called everyone here today as I have decided something for myself and I wish to communicate the same to you all."

Jhumur, his wife; Anita and her husband, Deb and his wife all looked perplexed. Everyone hoped that this was not about the house. They had already finalized the buyer and had made plans for the money that they would get. Mr. Sen sat in a corner and smiled at Ena.

"This is not about the house if that is what you are thinking."

There was a collective sigh of relief in the room.

"This is about me, my life. I think I have been a good wife and a mother. Your father is no more and you all have families and lives of your own. I am just a liability."

Jhumur, Anita, Deb all muttered small words of protest.

Ena dismissed them with a wave. "I know and it does not really hurt me. You all are young and have different priorities. So, I have decided that I will be with someone who actually wants me. I will marry Chayan, your Uncle."

Ena's words were met with a pin drop silence. And, then the outrage.

"How can you do this to us?" cried Jhumur and his wife.

"What will we tell others?" screamed Deb

Anita sat with her hands in her head and cried.

"I have decided. I am not seeking your permission. I am just informing." said Ena and left the room. Mr. Sen slowly followed her.

                                                           ***********************

Tanima sneaked into Ena's room. Her mother would beat her if she got caught. But Tanima had to speak to her Thakuma.

"Thakuma, why is everyone so angry with you? Ma has asked me not to talk to you. Bulbul, Tina and Rumon also say bad things about you and Bododadu."

"They will say such things, my dear. DO not pay any heed".

"But, why? I do not like when people say bad things about you."

"I and Bododadu are getting married. So, they are angry with us."

"But aren't marriages happy occassions? When Ranididi got married everyone was so happy. Ma even danced. Why aren't they happy now?"

"Because we are old. Old people do not marry. Also, we are cousins."

"Why can't old people get married? Because you will not look pretty as a bride."

"Ha ha. No, my dear. Well you see there are some rules made by people and we have to follow these rules. Getting married at this age that too to a cousin is going against such rules and so everyone is angry."

"Who made this rules? Why do we need to follow them? When I grow up I will not follow any rules. I will be like you, do what I want to do."

"Do not let your ma hear you say all this or both of us will be in a lot of trouble. run now before she catches you here."

                                                               *************************

Somewhere in the hills a month later

"So, finally after waiting for 72 years, I get to wake up next to you."

"Is that why you never got married Chayan?"

"Why else do you think. I could accept and adjust to everything else. But not waking up next to someone other than you."

She smiled. So did he.

To Chennai Auto Bhaiyya, With Love!

Dear Chennai Auto Bhaiyya (Sorry, I do not know the Tamil of Bhaiyya!)

Vanakkam!

First, let me thank you for making my one day visit to Chennai a most memorable one!

You, my dear, are a rare species. I have lived in three Indian cities (Shillong, Delhi and Bangalore) and have travelled by autos in numerous other cities but nowhere have I met anyone who even closely resembles you. Anyone who cribs to be me about the condition of autos in other cities, I have one word for them - You haven't yet seen the Chennai ones. You redefine the words rude, obnoxious and EXPENSIVE. Whoever said that Delhi is a con man's city is yet to meet you, my friend!

I had to travel from Point A to point B and the distance was around 15kms. I thought I would be penny wise and take an auto instead of a cab. That was one of the worst decisions of my life. I stepped out in the morning and started the hunt for autos. One gentleman offered to take me to my destination for 1100/-. I though that was his idea of a practical joke. Only, 15 minutes later and after asking around 10 more autos, I realised that it wasn't one.   I used my negotiation skills and finally found an auto which took me to my destination for a whooping 550/-.

When I complained to my Chennai friends they politely told me that it was the norm for a North Indian. Now, I have half the mind to sue all the travel websites that forget to include this one major point while giving details about Chennai - While visiting Chennai ensure that you know your Tamil, else be prepared to be mocked, ridiculed and robbed.

Auto Bhaiiya, please realise that Tamil is not yet a compulsory subject in school in other parts of India. I am also no linguist. So, my not knowing the language does not entitle you to rob me in broad daylight. Also, why don't you all take some geography lessons? Anyone who is not from the four Southern States does not automatically become a North Indian. There are two other directions also, you know, like West and East. Trust me a Mumbaikar or a Bengali may actually bash you up someday because they dislike being North Indians as much as you hate North Indians, if not more. I also wanted to ask you one question, why do you dislike Non South Indians so much? Next time, I will get a Google Translator and pose that question to you. I really, really want to know the answer to that.

Although, I really wanted to like Chennai and come back again, you have ensured that it does not happen. I was not able to take happy memories with me when I left Chennai. Tourism eventually will help you and your attitude does a lot to hamper that. I hope that someday you realize this.

Yours Faithfully,
Non South Indian Friend!

Do as I say or face the wrath!

If I need a mob to protect my God; I had rather not have a God.

The past few days the country was embroiled in a debate - a debate on free speech. Salman Rushdie had to cancel his visit to Jaipur Lit Fest because some bigots felt that his coming to the country hurt the sentiments of the Muslims. Worse, his presence via video link could not happen for fear of riots. This, in spite of the fact that he has visited the country numerous times after the publication and banning of his book Satanic Verses and even attended the fest in the past.

It is obvious to every lay man that it is a politicized move ahead of the polls. But, for me, the larger question here is why do we always bend to this minority who hold the country to ransom. The book may have hurt the sentiments of a few and it is banned. I wouldn't even debate that here. But barring the person from coming to the country is unjust and unconstitutional. What we fail to comprehend here is that the book and not the author is banned. Some may say that you cannot separate the two. And those who are screaming the loudest against it are most certainly the one's who haven't read even a page of the book. That in itself is a scary. The book is a fiction and fiction is a work that deals with events that are not factual.

We seem to have become a country where all the ideas on which the nation was built is getting lost in this fight to get more votes. Freedom of speech is the foundation for a democracy and a democracy which fails to uphold it is surely a failure. Today, our democracy seems like a farce. If the Rushdie incident was an isolated one, I wouldn't be that worried. But this has been happening again and again and again. James Laine's book on Shivaji was banned. Although the Supreme Court lifted the ban, the book still remains unpublished. M F Hussain had to spend his last years in a foreign country and even take the citizenship of another country. A K Ramanujan's essay was dropped from DU BA Syllabus largely due to pressure from right wing organizations. It has happened before and it will happen again.

Are our religious faith so shallow that one printed word or a painting affects it. We all have the right to have our opinions and we also have the right to choose to believe someone else's opinion or not. Curbing these voices will not take us anywhere. If I believe in something, my belief should be strong enough to not let someone else's view hamper it. I have a right to debate. I have a right to hate. But I do not have the right to take someone else's freedom.

We rather have a non super power India where we have a voice than go the China way and become a superpower and yet not have the right to chose how many kids I want to have.

I still have faith in this country and I still think it is not too late. But, it will be, very soon unless we wake up.

To work or not

If feminism is about having the choice to work shouldn't it also be having the choice to not work? Today, I fear, we women who work do not really have the choice to give it all up. Gone are those days when we would never think twice before asking our husbands to get us a sari or depend on our husbands to take care of us. In a Bengali wedding there is a custom where the groom promises that he would feed, clothe the bride. Today, it is just a custom. A man wants a woman who earns. Lifestyles have changed, wants have become needs and everyone is in a race to impress. A four wheeler will not do, it has to be sedan or an SUV;  a 2 bedroom flat is too small for two people, we need a 3 bedroom apartment; Same dress to two parties, absolutely NOT!

So, these are the days that we live in and it becomes almost impossible to sustain on one person's income. But, what if a woman does not want to be a part of this race, what if she wants to get up in the morning, cook for her family, rest in the afternoon, read more books, write and not rush to an office in the morning and work? Why is she not given that choice? And, same goes for the man. If he is not in a state of mind to work he should have the choice to quit, let the wife take care of the expenses then. My point is we do not really have that choice anymore. And, it is annoying. Day in and day out a lot of us spend 8 hours doing something that we do not like at all yet we have to.

Give it a thought. All of us deserve the choice to raise our hands up and shout I give up, at least once in our life.

I had stopped writing. Well, not writing but blogging. Mostly because I am an extremely lazy person and it is too much of a task for me to log on to the account and post something. I usually scribble on whatever is around me. But, I have decided to change this among a lot many other things that I plan to change. No, it is not because I want to give a glimpse of my oh - so - entertaining life to the world because frankly there are too many blogs and you do not want to know what is going on with another random person's life.

I decided to blog again for primarily two reasons. One, I need to work on my laziness. Period.

Second, and more importantly, I realized that the memory is not as good as it used to be. This realization dawned on me the other day when I was going through some old chats and discovered, to my horror, that I do not remember a lot of things that have happened to me. And, they are significant. Yes, I am getting old and there is so much that the brain can hold. So, blogging seems like a good way of keeping an account of things that happen around me, my thoughts and opinions.

I am not sure that I will be able to execute it. There is the hope, though. And what are we without our hopes.

Adieu!

She always thought of herself as a very strong person.

That day, when she stepped into Her room she knew she could not stay. She felt fear, felt her strength slipping. She glanced at Her and could only see Her eyes amidst the masks and the tubes. Those eyes which captivated everyone, those eyes that she feared as a child, the same eyes that spoke to her the past five days when there were no words. 

She went out and said that she wouldn't stay the night. He was displeased though he took care to not say anything. She felt she was betraying Her but she could not help it. She could not watch Her go. And, she knew that it was time for Her to leave.

On the way back she was quiet. She was trying to dig images from the past and replace it with what she saw now. It was difficult. She could only see Her in that room now with the vacant, helpless look in Her eyes. 

She was almost home when his phone rang and she knew. She didn't wait to hear the details, just quietly slipped to her room. She dug her hands in her pocket to fish out a cigarette when she remembered that this is his home and she cannot smoke here. She again tried to erase those images of Her. She needed them to go away. Those just could not be Her picture in her memories.

She heard screams. People had come and were crying and talking at the same time. She wanted to shut them out. After sometime she heard that they had brought Her home. How? She has left. People came to meet her. They asked her to cry. It helps, some said.  She hugged someone and cried. But it didn't help. They now wanted her to go and see Her. She screamed and shouted that she didn't want to. They said she would regret it. She was sure she wouldn't. She didn't want to mar that picture in her memory any further. No one heard her pleas; they dragged her. 

She barely glanced at Her and rushed to her room. She could hear them take Her away. She walked to that terrace from where She had waved her a bye a thousand times. This time it was her turn to wave, that too for the last time.