Pinku-Enchanted Life

The Taj Heritage building has been destroyed. The landmark which was as much talked about as perhaps the Gateway of India, is badly burnt and it will take months perhaps more to recover its glory. The Taj management promises to rebuild it brick for brick. In the meantime, can we ensure please that those bastards dont get to ever touch a single brick or life in this country again. I am upset and I am crying. For my country, for my countrymen and for the sad state we have brought ourselves to. My humble request is: Please lets be strong for each other and reach out a hand to all those who need it. AND PLEASE lets remember that those terrorists when they fired, fired blindly killing everyone in the line of fire be they be sikh, muslim, hindu, buddhist or atheist. Dont let anyone turn this into a debate about religion. Those guys who did this have none. Lets ensure the guilty are punished with the most exemplary punishment possible for this dastardly act and every such act that this count

Its Tuesday again…our day for catching a French film at the Alliance Francaise, Delhi. Truth be told at times am not so enthusiastic about going. A list of chores to be handled beckons and I feel going homewards to tackle them or to just put up my feet somewhere and relax with a cup of coffee is a much better alternative. But those feeling vanish within the first five minutes of the film and am all eyes (I can’t understand French so rely on the subtitles for following the film). Each film I have seen is etched in my mind and inspite of almost a year’s regular film watching no two films seem the same nor do the storylines borrow from each other. Mention French films and what you hear are comments like these - ‘noir’, ‘sensual’, ‘too much skin show’ and ‘too arty’. And of course the snide side comments that ‘they are just trying to be oh-so-intellectual’ (this is said in regards to the audience). It’s all so very true including the part about us trying to be intellectual (but then we are

the nip in the air, the days growing short the cuddles more urgent the kisses more frequent the fragrance of harshingar the urges for a cup of coffee the crawling into the other’s grooves the slipping of a hand into the shirt the open air dining in the chill the hot kebabs and shawarmas the happiness of being together the return of memories pleasant the appearance of the favourite razai the early morning fog the endless cups of steaming tea the breathe which steams as it streams Know what it means? Winter is here!!!

Late October, the chill just beginning to make itself felt, a gathering of people from all walks of life and the staging of an amazing piece (I use the word Piece for calling it a mere play would be to confine it to the rigidities one expects in the genre). It was called Mein Istanbul Hoon . The occasion was the celebration of the 50 years of the National school of Drama and the topic chosen was momentous too – a glimpse of Istanbul past and present as reflected through the various books of Orhan Pamuk – the Nobel Laureate. The stage put up on the lawns of the Indira Gandhi National Center for Arts had as backdrop the huge peepul trees and the slowly growing dark winter sky. It began with a beautiful musical composition which instantly took us to the streets of Istanbul as if on a flying carpet. The young Pamuk and his angst at being misunderstood by the world at large, his mother’s high hopes for her son, whom she wants to make an architect are beautifully shown. The tinge of sadness

I want it to be monumental. I want it to be different. I want it to be something I can come back to read after writing another 99 posts. I don’t trust myself to write something that good. So I asked a few blogger friends to write down their perception of me and my blog. They were really sweet and inspite of their very busy schedules (what with Diwali close) they actually took out time and wrote a few words. Here, I share it with you: Phatichar : Pinku, one who leads the enchanted life. When I first started speaking to her a few months back, she seemed guarded. But that is only natural in this online world, isn’t it? Gradually that guard was dropped and pretty soon we got along like wild fire, common interests fuelling our conversations everyday – books, movies, food and a whole lot more. And then I went back and read all her posts. And after reading that, from a good online friend, she instantly transformed into a figure to respect. It was not just the writing; that is awesome anyways.

Girl meets boy. Likes him for what he is, his smartness, his foolishness, his awkwardness, and his cuteness and promptly falls in love. Boy meets girl. Likes her good looks, the way she carried herself, the perfectionist mind and attitude, her knowledge and even her pretensions at times, finds it all so very adorable and promptly falls in love. Boy and girl profess undying devotion, love and tenderness. Then they get married. The guy’s smartness starts to rankle when the wisecracks get targeted at her. The girl’s good looks are a matter which sees money drain into Beauty parlours. The guy’s foolishness tastes dour when it means overlooking the obvious. The girl’s poise is cause to lose repose. The guy’s awkward comments aimed at her family or even friends are difficult to swallow The perfectionist mind is now settled on dusting cobwebs There are children to be look aftered, clothes to be darned, utensils to be washed and food going bad in the fridge. The dream turns into a nightmare n

She was a stunner, green eyes, great body and an exotic dress to boot. Anyone would give her a second glance even a third. She was selling cowboy hats at the Chirag Dilli red light, wearing them all one on top of the other as she walked through the maze of cars. Everyone from the autowallah to the bus passengers to the car drivers and their owners looked out to see her gliding past. She made for a good shot for me while I waited for the red light to turn green. And then we all went our ways forgetting her, forgetting her plight. She belongs to a tribe from Rajasthan that had to move from their ancestral dwellings in search of money and food. She is a bewildered person, who has been made poor and a destitute by the unthinking, uncaring attitude of the powers that be. She is someone who has recently joined the ranks of the poor in Delhi. How do we help? Buy one of her hats perhaps? Does that really solve the problem? Today an initiative was on to talk about poverty through Blog Action D