Everyone condemns

but what happens.. Bombay gets her legs broken.. she limps back to normalcy and then her legs are broken again!

and everyone just condemns .. over and over again!

Review:Fashion

It's been a while that a movie had made me want to write about it. The last one being Rang De Basanti. This time it's Fashion.. and I know that the movie has been panned by many critics as being a superficial look at the fashion world. The movie takes one through the journey of a small time model who makes it big in the fashion world and becomes a super model.
Now the premise of the movie itself doesn't excite me as much as the journey itself.

Bhandarkar could have taken any premise apart from fashion , such as the world of cinemas, cricket, politics etc...
But he being the intelligent film maker knew that his movie would then be lost amidst the million attempts by other bollywood film makers who have ventured into de mystifying these super glamorous worlds . Ramp walking and modelling clothes is a glamorous profession, that makes to page 3 of the society columns. So I can see where he got his premise from and why. It will surely draw people in.


now the reason why I liked the movie is because of the journey portrayed .. of a small town girl who moves to the big city away from the protective roof she knew all along. She makes it through the ardous path set before her towards her success. On the way she meets people who believe in her and finds friends who shares with her the same dream for her, people who genuinely want her to succeed. At the same time she meets people who tempt her for more . She decides her journey and on that path she succumbs to arrogance and derisiveness towards everyone around her. The rest is for people to watch and enjoy..

adios

Disconnected and disillusioned

For the first time in almost 6 years, that I have been in America, I felt homesick. It's quite strange , because I didn't feel homesick ( not to this degree ) when i first came here. I was in awe of the country, of the Indian community I met at school , of the friends that became a part of every day life.

This evening we went for Garba and dandiya raas organized by Maharashtra mandal of Atlanta. We came away without even dancing a step. Not a familiar face.. everyone had a small smile that danced on their lips..but never reached their eyes.. Curious eyes that followed us and people talking in a strange tongue, even though marathi was no strange language to me,

Back in Mumbai, when we went for dandiya.. we would know people we were dancing around with.. they were part of a community, be it school , colony or work that we belonged too. They would know you and genuinely acknowledge your presence as some one who had a right to be there. Even at UTA, the feeling of belonging still remained.

Back home, the malayalees from the colony would get together a month in advance. The festivities of Onam would set in then as practiced for various programs would start in full swing. At the end of the feast..we would all go back knowing that Onam couldn't have been better. This year we decided to attend an Onam program at the temple here. Malayalees from Kerala who had settled in Atlanta were the organizers. It felt strange to celebrate Onam with strangers , eat lunch next to person you had never met before. i am hoping that next year it would be better.

Now in Atlanta, when we dont belong to any community , we feel out of place at most Indian gatherings..I am still trying to find a community here that I could belong to here..despite efforts to find some comfortable common ground to be on..its a slow and deliberate process albeit a very slippery one ...


Adios.

My mother's doll

My mother never played with dolls..( she told me this) .. Her free time as a kid was spent ensuring that the younger kids fell in line. I love hearing the stories of how she got my uncles to sing .. a radio and a safety pin played a big role in the whole thing...

She grew up being the best at everything she did, was one of nine women who enrolled for engineering in REC ( her bacth) and graduated with a job in her kitty from a very male dominated industry.. she then got married to my father.. and had me .. and thats when she got her first doll..( so I say) .

This time when i went back to india, i was looking through some old albums and i began to notice a trend which i didnt recognize till now.
my mother stitched my birthday dresses.. and she would not leave it at that.. she made matching accesseries as well. All this while ensuring me and my brother did our best in school, in all the activites she enrolled us in and working. I dont remember where all the material came from, but i think dad got some from kuwait and amma would promptly make me a dress.

there was a yellow frock with black flower print on it. It had these capped sleeves and it stood out at my waist . I had a matching bow to wear on my head. It was the most beautiful dress ever.

i then grew up and she could no longer make me dresses.. instead.. somehow all the pictures had us color coordinanted.
if she wore black there was no way i was wearing anything but black... ( ma looks gorgeous in black)

So thats why i say I am her doll and she loves to dress me up ...

The long and short of it

I just realized that it has been a little over a year since i moved out of dallas to Atlanta.. It was a huge move for me, considering that I spent a big part of my adult and single life there. It was here that I got doctrined in the general unfairness of life, in the unhinging belief of long standing support of friends who till a few days back were strangers... in the fun times that i had watching movies, playing games ( who thought board games could be played after 21) , taking road trips, sipping coffee at 2:00 a.m outside the computer lab, hitching rides to get groceries... , going to the temple to eat free food.. and so much more..

i miss dallas a lot .. but i am enjoying my new role and new life just a little more... :)