Men, Fatherhood & the Internet

A lot has been written on women writing and blogging about their experience as mothers. A couple of my friends have been very consistent about sharing their lives for the past year.  

Many people argue that the Internet has seen an increase in women writing on motherhood whereas some say that women were always writing about this even in a non-digital age. Still others say that it is a new trend - women who have active careers writing about motherhood.  

But what happens to men when they become fathers today? How do they look at this experience? Is it any different from my Dad’s generation? I started thinking about this when my parents observed how my brother spends a lot of time with his children. When pointed out that Dad was equally involved with us while growing up the discussion  became very confused. But question still remained - what do men think of being a father today?

Since my brother does not blog, I started to look  among friends. But none of them actually write about  fatherhood. Two men whom I have know for some time have a different approach. One of them actually has his FB identity as his “child’s father”. That according to me is the ultimate celebration of fatherhood online. Where your online personality only exists as your child's father. 

The other friend has opened an FB account in his child’s name and regularly updates photographs about activities in the child’s life. They do not have other FB accounts where they write updates about themselves. Am sure you would know of such fathers around you. The photographs they upload have a lot to tell.

When I talk to young parents, both men and women agree that parenthood has changed them but the way they express it online is very different. Women are articulate about their experience whereas men generally do not want to discuss their inner stuff.

Oh.

Women want to talk about it. And men would rather not open up.

That sounds very familiar.

a Friend request (from an old one)

Two days ago I got a friend request on FB. OKaying it would restart a conversation that we must have left eighteen years ago. Its not that we had a fight but were too distracted with other things. And those distractions led to others.

When we leave college we think that we will continue with our lives just the same way. With some friends you end up meeting once in a while. With others its complicated. We do not seem to have the time. Or it was the right moment. This drags on till it is almost two decades. That quick meeting at a party thrown by a classmate turned out to be the last one for a long time. I was leaving. And you had just come in.

Hello. See you around. Where are you working. Catch you later.

The film school that we went to was notorious for the long hours and we would end up with classmates talking into the early hours of the morning. All our teen and early adult life we fight hard to create a distinct identity. And yet this is the point in life when we spend a lot of time with people our age.

Initially we meet as strangers. There was really nothing common between me and the people I met in the summer of ’92. We extend our hands, gingerly. We give and take. Banter. Over time our personalities become enmeshed in each other. Strangers become friends. Almost indistinguishable.

We are not aware of this process then. And suddenly it is time to say good-bye. At what point do we become strangers again? Or is there some thing about spending all that time in the canteen or at someone’s room, hypnotized in each other’s company that makes it impossible to become strangers again?

After saying OK to the friend request I went over the list of friends from Jamia. I realize that I have not met most of them for over 15 years.. They are new layers to peel off. Again.

The more things change…

i accuse

now that

the hurly burly

is done

and the battle

is half lost

and half won

you can all return home

back

to the jobs you hold

in those tall glass buildings

Friedman and Nilekani taught us

that your world is flat as mine

but your buildings always seem taller

back

to your H1B forms

and work permits in the Gulf

you need them to pay your credit card bills

Lokpal or no Lokpal

back

to your colonies

with those high gates

and security guards protecting 2 crore houses

on 3k salaries

back

to calculating

the rupee dollar rate

and the lowest ticket to London

for a holiday

in the name of corruption

you held the country

the parliament

and 800 crore people

to ransom

those people

who had nothing

to gain from this fight

their life remains the same

we will keep squashing them

this was all a charade

for you to feel good about your selves

the next time you will be there for the temple

and the Parliament may have to bend down again

the question is not

is this country going to wake up to a new dawn

just answer

are we going to not bribe

the next time we jump

the traffic light ?

as he broke his fast the old man said :

There should be no difference in what you say and what you do, you should possess clean and honest thoughts, have a clean conduct, clean character, have a feeling for sacrifice and should have the strength to take humiliation

are you up for that pardner?

many years back

our elders

got behind an old man

to get Independence for this country

we found out later

that freedom was a false one

the Mahatma was betrayed

this too will go the same way

do me a favour

just throw away that cap

you wore for the last 12 days

so that it does not embarrass you some day

Meeting her after two years

“So you are leaving today at 4?”

I looked towards Mom with exasperation. This was the fourth time she had asked today. Each time earlier I had corrected her. I was leaving the next day.

Mom motioned me to just nod in agreement.

“When are you going to come next?”

I really had no answer for that. I smiled.

“I am not going to be around for long, you know”

“You keep saying that, but you look alright to me. Especially with the new bob cut.”

She smiled and ran her hands through her silver hair that had been cut off bluntly.

“ Your mother did that. She says that long hair was difficult to mange. Took a long time to dry.”

“Don’t worry it will grow back”

There was a pause. She stopped the regular movement of her head that an outsider would immediately call shivering.

“No it won’t. Actually your grandmother is not very well.”

I was amused that she was referring to herself in third person. She would always do that when she had something to complain. When we were young it was usually that the yield of coconut had gone down. Or that someone in the family was not listening to her. Or that her grandchildren were not coming to meet her often.

Recently she had started saying that she was not keeping well.

“There is nothing wrong. Didn’t you hear what the doctor said – you have no problems. Its just old age.”

She smiled.

“That’s what you all keep telling me. That’s what we tell old people."

She turned to look out to the window.

“I am tired. I need to go and rest.”

And then as she got up, she turned to me again.

“So you are leaving today at 4?”

I nodded and smiled.

Telling a story

Just finished a review of an interesting book.

The core of the story is a dacoit waiting to be hanged telling the story of his life. It set me thinking - when we tell a story how much of it is truth, lies or a minor exaggeration?

Being in the film making business telling stories, creating them or making them out of thin air where nothing actually took place is something you take for granted. Additionally I have been blessed with a succession of friends who are very good storytellers and are much better at embellishing a small experience into something wonderful, exotic or funny.

I find that difficult to do. Actually telling a story. Describing it. Talking about it.

Let me give you an example. In 2006 I got caught in the deluge in Bombay, I ended up walking 8 hours from Worli to Andheri reaching my friend's place at three in the night. All I could say when he opened the door was - Its raining hard outside.

Understatement. of. the. year.

Over the next few months I did recollect many interesting events that happened along the way on that day. But in the immediate days that followed you could not get a single story out of me.

This struck me a couple of days later when we were sitting around for hours since the city was still shut down. And the funny thing was that most people in the group who had not even ventured down the road on the day it rained, had interesting stories to tell. About themselves. Or so they thought. Like going to pick 50 bottles of water. Or drinking coffee watching the rain. Or staying in the theatre watching one show after the other waiting for the rain to subside.

At other times I have sat for hours and days on end listening to It-was-love-at-sight stories or how-we-broke-up-stories. Somewhere I convinced myself that maybe I was a good listener. That was my job. Every story requires a good listener, right?

And once in a while you would hear the same incident from two different sources and then the contradictions would emerge. He said this, she did that etc. This set me thinking. What actually happened here? Who is telling the truth? Is there something like the truth in such cases?

So what is more important? How you tell the story? Or whether you tell actually what happened?

Here is a fun take on this.

Quick Thinking

Let me paint a regular scenario. We go to a restaurant, a new one. As we settle down the menu is presented. I make a quick survey and decide what to eat. The waiter catches my eye and whips out his pen. The rest of the group glares at me. They are not even through with the first page. How come this guy is ordering now?

Till recently I never noticed this thing about me. I would often take very quick decisions. On a shoot. Or an edit of a film. When I go out to buy something. Clothes. Gadgets. Even while shopping as a tourist. The only exception is a bookstore. :)

Yesterday when we finished buying a pair of jeans (Levis button fly !) in ten minutes, A asked me how could I decide so quickly.

This was the wrong subject to test my quick thinking. Men clothes leave us with little choice. Also I had been holding off on buying a new pair simply because I wanted a buttoned one. Now that new stock was in the stores, I just had to try out the the right fit. Of course it helps if you do not lie about your waist size ! You do not have to try two three sizes and pretend why THIS size is NOT fitting you - It did five years ago....

I often wonder how I would act if I was forced to use the Six Thinking Hats system made famous by Edward D Bono. The idea was to go through a six step process before arriving at a decision. I am sure we do this is some bastardized way, but de Bono codified it as a management process. I probably would fall asleep in such meetings.

In Blink Malcolm Gladwell describes a different mental process - that works rapidly and automatically from relatively little information. Through examples the book argues that spontaneous decisions are often as good as—or even better than carefully planned and considered ones.

I do not know how my system evolved. How I decide what to eat is based on the least complicated thing on the menu although I am open to suggestions from someone who has been to the restaurant earlier. So its not really safe decisions but the idea is to order something as soon as possible so that we can get to the real thing- talk.

Part of the process of arriving at a decision quickly is to eliminate things that do not interest you or you do not think are important. However this can be have other consequences - you tend to ignore experiences that could interest you. On the positive side if you made a wrong decision you can quickly change track, make another one and hopefully cover your losses.

Of course you need to be prepared for the consequences. The King of Quick Thinking, Roald Amundsen was all set to reach the North Pole when he got the news that Peary had reached there first. Immediately Amundsen decided to turn his attention to the South Pole. But he kept this a secret. When news finally reached England that Amundsen was going to compete with British expedition under Scott, they accused him of cheating. But the fact of the matter was that the British expedition reached the Pole later, even though it had a head start. Scott was slow to make decisions and often confused as to how to move the expedition forward.

Of course quick decisions may not work all the time. This post took me two hours spread over three days with a lot of heavy editing and pondering. The button fly jeans is till at the shop - left behind for alterations. Am still wearing my old pair.

Gossip makes the world go...

Outlook has a cover story on the importance of gossip in our lives. I have long been a fan of gossip. Often it is looked down upon and mostly underrated. Most of us do gossip consciously or unconsciously to gather information or to gain advantage in a situation. However we do not admit it.

One of teachers at film school used to speak highly of gossip. He said it sets your creative juices flowing. While I agree with the first part, for me gossip is more about gathering information (which is not available officially) or breaking into a group at a new workplace. Seasoned practitioners often use it to either to spread wrong information (!) or break set hierarchies.

Gossip started with school. Everyday when we returned back home I would be on the phone for hours on end discussing activities of my classmates to the minutest detail. Who did what? Who said what? What did the teacher’s pet do? This reached such a stage when I would even know what was happening in my brother’s class. My parents would often have to snatch away the phone from me.

When I joined a production house after many years in the freelancing wilderness, I was taken aback by the rigid hierarchies at work. No one spoke out of fear that he or she may be ridiculed or snubbed. The first week I sat alone at my desk with no one to talk to. I thought I would go mad. I realized that this had to be changed. I needed to help my colleagues loosen up.

I began with the office boy (who still remains my friend and calls me regularly) who was the repository of all that happened in the office. Slowly I worked my way up, creating new friendships, where conversations moved from the generic to gathering specific information about people at work.

At that time I was not aware of this process. Years later, I could observe myself with a distant eye when I joined another place. I would begin by meeting people alone. Of course gossip works best when done in groups but then you need to know the minds of everyone – what their motivations are and how much you should reveal your mind. When you are alone with someone, the conversation leads to more detail. But one must be willing to share information if one wants something that the other person has.

However the best practitioners of this are in Bombay. I realized people in that city had taken gossip to a new level. At the Lokhandwala Barista I saw one wannabe director move from one table to the other collecting information, adding his two bit and retelling the story. This process continued across three tables within the earshot of those who were talking to him a few minutes ago. No one bothered to correct him. In a business that thrives on gossip more of it was always welcome.

The trouble with OURBOOK

Yesterday A announced that it was time for her join Facebook. She had not been a member of any networking site till now. Never felt the need for it. So here all my friends were declaring their relationship status with their other half on Facebook and I was “married” but to whom no one knew.

But the timing is all wrong. Just when I was getting bored with the site, A is ready to jump into the networking game. The past month there has been much debate on the nature of the site and who owns the content and NOW-my-life-is-going-to-a-open- book kind of chest beating on the Net.

The entire thing turned me off. For one Facebook was trying to be silly and try to own data which was generated by users. Seems like this had been their business plan all the time. What is the point trying to pretend that you were going to just be happy with the traffic and the ads on the site. No they wanted to sell details like what book you like to read in the loo and how what is the profile of members in the group “I support the ban on yellow coloured SUVs” to the highest bidder. Anyway they reversed their decision and things were back to normal.

By which I mean we continued to share photographs of last week (or ten years ago) party at a farmhouse or join a group which was going to march to Delhi and ask some serious questions (they were still trying to figure where to meet and whom to ask these questions !).

I am not sure whether the problem lay only with Facebook owners. Yes the whole idea of making money out of gory details of my life is wrong but what’s the idea of putting all these silly details of your life and feeling “hurt” when someone wants to “sell” it. Do you really care? OK if Facebook were to agree to share the profits with you would you agree?

Looking at it practically, I am not sure if I decide to shut down my account whether it would be possible to remove all references to my name or where I appear. My name might still be attached to " What kind of a dog are you?" or " Are you the most popular friend of all time?".

Since 99.9999999999% of stuff on Facebook is created by the users, they should use this “crisis” to look at what is their idea of a networking site. What would we like to do with it? How can we contribute and make it better?

Once they can stop "poking" or sending "kisses" to each other.

Cartoon : Blast Media

It ain't over till a song is sung

What is with gatherings where people sing hindi songs? And I am not talking about yearly family gathering or picnics where it is common to sing or play antakshari. These are grown up people who have traveled many thousands of miles to discuss serious stuff.

Last week I was at a dinner hosted for a NGO conference where a film I had made was releasing. The crowd gathered were all over from South Asia - Nepal, Bhutan, Bangladesh and even Pakistan.

No sooner the film got over and people applauded us for the effort, someone picked up the cordless mike and there was a hushed silence. I was busy shutting down the projector and a woman's voice started (at a high pitch) to render this song. I could not place her - which part of the subcontinent she was from. She was wearing a Kerala saree with a gold border but her Urdu diction was good.

What struck me was that the song had nothing to do with the occasion or the event. Why would you pick that song to sing? Of course it is a beautiful song. In a small gathering perhaps. But at a dinner with 40 people?

It took me back to the nights in Jamia staying up listening to poetry or even further ancient memories of dinners at home where someone would start singing while the rest were eating gulab jamuns or drinking coffee. The songs chosen by the singers were what they liked. They were not be able to render them well but the listeners had no choice. Only a brave singer would take requests.

By now everyone was hooked. I looked around the faces. Some of them were lost in their thoughts. Other were staring at the singer to figure of the words since they were alien to them. Of course there was a token European who was recording the entire session on an I-Phone. It reminded me of a group waiting for the marriage ceremony to begin and start singing songs to pass away time.

At college in the gang we had it was pretty obvious who would be singing and who would have poetry to recite that evening. The rest were the audience. Most of the songs were repeated every time we gathered. No surprises. At family dinners sometimes a new person would try out a song she had been practicing in preparation for this dinner. Otherwise it would be the same playlist. And the same faces.

It seemed to me that this singer belonged to that tradition. Singing at gatherings was natural for her. What was scary was the audience seemed to be used to such things. Is it because they all did it when they gathered at their friends' homes? As the song came to an end, I could feel a knot in my stomach. The same feeling you get at a dinner when one person starts singing followed by another one and pretty soon you get the feeling that this is not going to break up till everyone (including you) have been forced to sing. I squirmed and looked around for the door.

Thankfully many in the audience had performance anxiety that evening. When the song finished, many complimented the singer. And then rushed out for dinner. Just in case someone started to sing another one.

The Perfect Morning Routine

Michael Agger writes about the perfect morning routine with a lot of interesting links to how you can organise that time of the day.

In my case mostly mornings start with starting the water pump (or hearing A get up and start it). Then walk into the kitchen and put water for tea. This mostly has adrak or the chai masala

which I let boil for a long time.

In winters, every alternate day I go up to water the plants. Then its a rush to finish the bathroom routine and make my tea.

The problem starts soon after. Once the tea is in my hand, I have to fight this urge to sit on the internet. Since I have cut down on newspapers and television, the idea is to get my news from the Net. But soon I drift to Gmail and this is where it all comes apart. Once you start answering emails I just lose track of time.

There was a time I thought I was a morning person and would keep important jobs (writing concepts, editing a film) for the first half of the day. Sometimes it would work and things would go as scheduled. However when they don't then you feel frustrated by evening and are waiting for the morning. To start your "schedule" all over again.

Now I feel we are not really a morning or a afternoon or a night person. We might get an new Idea at any time of the day. And if we really like what we are doing, then most of us do not really care what time is it or how tired we are.

So why do we worry about the mornings? During the day very not much needs to be done around the house and you have lesser distractions. Maybe we need to get out of the theory that we may ever be a morning person. Then we will end up finishing all our routine stuff in the morning and the rest of the day we can follow the perfect morning routine !

These random things...

.... remind me of friends.

Have you ever gone to a place or seen something that reminds you of someone? Random places or things that trigger something in your mind...

Last week I had gone to Aizwal and I was thrown back to the December of 1998 where Desmond and I had spent a whole winter traveling up and down the state. A restaurant that is no longer there - Don't Pass Me By - at Janpath was where we would often have breakfast on winter mornings. Everytime I pass that gali I turn around to look for the place although I know it shut down some time back.

There is a cup, newly acquired greenish in colour that reminds me of Mona and the many cups of tea she has fed me. Any image of Kootiyattam jump starts the memory of the summer of 1993 when we traveled to Kerala for our shoot. A small handicam displayed at the shop window is like the one that Shefali and I used to make our short film a decade ago. Passing a poster about a play connects me to Radhika and my first brush with theatre.

The Jaipur highway reminds me of the trip with Ravi to Pushkar. Why is that journey etched in my mind since the highway was not complete when we were traveling? Green Park market is about the lunches and walks back to Sara's office.

Long bus journeys are like the trips in Gujarat with Aditi. 25th December reminds me of Dui where we walked from hotel to hotel on a Christmas weekend looking for a room. Hotel rooms are all like the one in Hyderabad where me and Kannan sat for a week, incommunicado from the rest of the world to finish a script.

Rarely do I sit in a bus now but when I do and I see a girl with a duppatta I hear the poem that Raza had written in 1994. Four Square cigarettes, sport shoes on window display and cramped rooms in Bombay remind me of earlier relationships and stolen moments.

What are the things that remind you of someone?

(basically) about phrases i hate

Oxford has come up with a list of irritating phrases in the book A Damp Squid. Some of them are words that are used too often while others are wrongly used or simply wrong. They are :

1. At the end of the day
2. Fairly unique
3. I personally
4. At this moment in time
5. With all due respect
6. Absolutely
7. It’s a nightmare
8. Shouldn’t of
9. 24/7
10. It’s not rocket science

While many of these phrases are used in India, I have my own list of problems with urban Indians who suddenly begin imagining in college that English is their mother tongue and start to massacre it. In the beginning it is always the wrong use of "the" and using plurals where it is not required. Some examples in real life encountered last week. The flight to the Delhi is delayed, How are you all doing todays, Sorry for inconveniences.

But pretty soon it becomes a real problem in social situations. I have noticed that most Indians when they get angry and want to maintain civility in a public situation break into English. Now you are wincing at their pronunciation and grammar and trying to hide a laugh while they are getting progressively angry. This can become even funnier when you are meeting a person of authority and some important life changing decisions are to be taken.

But these can be forgiven since one can put them down to the fact for most people using English it is a second language for them. And compared to Chinese, Koreans and many Asian groups we are much better off in using English.

What I cannot fathom is when people with reasonable English education (by which I mean nursery rhyme books from the 2nd year, obsessive parents and convent education) end up using phrases on a regular basis which make no sense to me. If they think it is their takiya kalaam it is not working for me. Here is my list of irritating words/phrases :

1. Basically
This is often used at the beginning of the sentence but provides no extra information. Basically this car can seat only four people. Or - Basically, people are against a change in the law. This is repeated again and again in a discussion. However once it become part of the speech it also creeps into their writing.

2. Essentially
Used again like the earlier word and sometimes they are used in place of the other in a conversation. Again the word gives no additional information. Essentially, it seems like an intellectual way of emphasizing one's point of view but it never has that effect.

3. (Let me tell you) where I am coming from
This one is a no brainer. If anything it puts off the listener since all discussion stops at this point. It seems like an opening for a clarification but all it does is undo everything that has been discussed earlier. When the speaker has finished the sentence there is always an uncomfortable silence.

Of course there are phrases I use too. My point is often comes up in my conversations even when I talk in Malayalam. On this blog I often use What is interesting all the time.

What about you?

A quiz show scandal

With so much discussion about Kaun Banega Crorepati every season, I was intrigued by this article by Charles Van Doren who was the centre of a quiz show scandal in the late 1950s. At that time a popular quiz show used to supply answers to participants to keep audience interest in the show.

When a particular participant was staying on too long, the producers would introduce someone who had answers to the questions just to make sure that the older one lost. What was interesting was that apart from providing the answers the participants were also coached how to answer so that they looked genuine.

When this fraud became public, there was Congressional hearing where a lot of participants admitted to being involved. Since this was the first time this had happened at this level the US Congress passed a law prohibiting the fixing of quiz shows. However - and this i find interesting since the actions were not illegal no one went to prison for rigging the shows.

In the article for the first time Charles van Doren writes about his experience. All this time he had never given any interviews or written about the subject quite unlike the celebs of today.

I have often wondered are games in India ever rigged? Also what would happen if we ever found out?

Shopping for groceries...

... on Dal Lake.

For most of us Kashmir is synonymous with Dal where all the shikaras wait to take the tourists across to the houseboats. But behind the houseboats there is another world. Houses sitting along the river, an entire colony of people who depend on the water for everything including buying their daily groceries.


Each morning around 5 one can see many shikaras going back and forth carrying different kinds of items. Their destination is a clearing in the lake where most of the transactions are done.As we sat watching the men negotiate one could see them all kinds of things on this floating - including gas cylinders.




With the sun yet to break out and mountains all around them this must be one of the most fun locations to buy things. I am sure no one raises their voices or breaks into a fight.

If you get to Srinagar try this ride. Be early. The negotiations are over by 7 in the morning and everyone goes home.

The river chronicles (cont.)

The 1950 earthquake of Assam changed the face of the Brahmaputra. Many hills surrounding the river fell into the waters and created new landscapes that are constantly shifting and changing. The most common effect was the creation of river islands.


I traveled with a medical team to one of these islands. Most of the population consists of Mishings who are related to tribes from Arunachal Pradesh and migrated about 500 years back. Their islands still have houses in stilts a construction style long abandoned in villages on the mainland.


Being near Dibruhgarh this island village had a thriving dairy practice. Krishna Pao owns almost 300 buffaloes and about 50 cows. He sells most of the milk in Dibrugarh which is about a three hour boat ride from his island. He told me that the village consumes most of the cow milk while city folks prefer buffalo milk.

On asked why, he said : If you offer them cow milk, they think it is diluted ! Much like the rest of the country...

the boxing girls

Was filming in Kolkata
for a film on woman boxers
at a club that has been churning out
champs who have been doing well
at the nationals and some at the world championship...

set in a garden near Kali Ghat Metro Station
the club consists of a boxing ring
and a bare bones gym

the girls come everyday
to practice regularly under the watchful eyes of Asit Banerjee
who came up with this idea about two decades ago
when he began to pick girls who were from
families living in the poorer sections of Kolkata
boxing for them could be a passport out of poverty
if they excelled in the sport
a government job was guaranteed
initially this idea was scoffed at as many believed that women would not be able to
compete in such a sport

today the South Calcutta Physical Culture Association is churning out
women boxers at a hectic pace
with more and more girls are getting drawn into the sport

the challenge is not to do well at the national level
it is the next stage that be
comes difficult
while one of the reasons
is lack of good trainers and facilities
many of the boxers drop out once they get a job or get married

however some like Razia (right)
opt to become a coach and a trainer
she inspires younger girls from her area to take up the sport
today parents have become more open and become open to the idea
Priyanka(left) and Alam Ara (centre) have now been coming to club for some time
they hope to make it to the World Championship some day

How close is too close

With coming of coffee bars combined with the high premium on space very often you are sitting close to people while having your drink. I can remember a couple of interesting conversations I overheard in the last one year. But the point is that there is a line you never cross. You never get that close.

But how close is close? Well today I had a chance to think about that. Me and a friend were at the chai bar at the Oxford Bookstore sitting and having our exotic versions of tea while behind us a book launch had just concluded. We could hear animated conversations between an old lady (who claimed to be from Pakistan) a couple of girls who were part of the organizing team.

In trooped a young man who after trying out a couple of tables, decided to come and sit near us at a long table which was being shared by many other customers. Initially he was just interested at staring at the women behind us, although he was sitting too close to us almost leaning into our conversation. But since his head was turned away we did not bother. Then he began to fiddle with things on the table. First it was the sugar bowl, then it was my hat. That was it. I snatched away from him and gave him a stare.

So how close is too close for you?

My favourite landlord

It was the April of 2001. I was planning to move out of my parents home. Actually the plans were made about six months back but my Dad dissuaded me through some complicated logic which involved buying a new car and my brother's marriage.

Let me give you some advice. Never start looking for a place in April. Cause even if you get it many many years later when your lease finally gets over and your landlord decides to kick you out you again have to look for a house in summer.

Anyways I did not know all these pathetic details at that time. The idea was to look for something close to work to avoid traffic. Most of us do not remember the times before the Dhaula Kuan and the AIIMS flyover. Traffic was real bad.

The thing about looking for a house in Delhi is that you are always a disadvantage. Bachelor, student - will get girls over. Married - will consume too much water. Lawyer - will not leave. Punjabi - will always fight. The list is endless. One place I was hown the sample contract which included a "no consumption of drugs" clause since the previous tenant had been busted a few months go in a high profile case.

Many houses later, including some near handshakes, I finally landed on something. Expensive and a cranky landlord. I remember getting into a fight the first day I moved it. About putting a bell or something. Most of my friends had warned me about aggressive landlords. But nothing really happened after. Everything quietened down soon.

The place was fun since I did not have much to travel for work. I remember the winter mornings on the terrace having many cups of chai waiting for the clock to strike ten so that I could walk down to the studio.

My landy was an funny character. Since he stayed below he would stop me on my way up or when I left my house. He always asked questions about my work. We even shot a film at that house. And all the time he watched us, all excited asking several questions about the camera.

But never did he ask about my friends. People would come and go, even stay over but no questions asked.

Of course there were parties. I mean big gatherings with about 30-40 people. Again no issues for my landlord. Once a friend of mine wanted to throw a party for his lady love. The problem was that I had to go to another party the same day. When I returned, the place was in a mess with a couple of groups on the verge of a fist fight. I thought this is going to be my last day here.

The next morning after all my friends had staggered out, the only thing my landy talked about was the music that was played the earlier night. Then he moved onto comparing jazz music with qawwali.

I treasured the two years I stayed there...

The Reluctant Migrant

Got into a flight for Kochi and immediately a conversation as I sat on my seat.

"Are you going to Kochi?"

I nodded. The guy was clutching grey bad and was wearing a cap. (Inside the plane !)

"Do you stay there ? Are you working there?"

I shook my head.

"I am going to meet my parents."

A sigh of relief.

" I am going to Kerala for the first time. Have got a job. Government job."

He looked around. His voice dropped.

"What kind of a place is it? Will I get a cheap place to stay? Can they understand Hindi?"

"Where are you from ?"

"Bihar..."

I smiled.

"Why do you worry ? Its OK..."

"I am going for the first time. Outside my place. I don't know what kind of place will it be."

I gave up. This guy had a sarkari job and was shitting bricks about moving to a new place. What about those who migrate to the metros without any guarantee, no place to stay...

And these are the people that politicians warn are ruining the cities.

I have a crush

So do you tell the person (you are attracted to)?

I am not talking about imaginary beauties like Salma Hayek and Monica Bellucci here. Real people you work with or meet by chance. Last night, a friend and I got into a discussion. She had been working with someone on a project and now it was time to say goodbyes. And she was in two minds - should she tell this guy that she had a crush on him?

In my book (since I am the kinds who never tells anyone anything about the affairs of my heart) this is a NO. And this is not a case of being committed or anything. The first time I had a crush (that I still remember) must have been around ten. It was a distant cousin and the sole reason for the attraction was that while all of us were playing she insisted on sitting at the edge of the field and reading a book. Now being a worse book junkie than her, somehow the sight of her sitting on the edge of the field at a distance, engrossed in the book, appealed to me. But did I tell her? No. But that was maybe because I had no clue what to say.

But even when i understood what was happening, I would never reveal a thing. Of course once in a while I would slip up. Like this girl I had a crush on in college. We never discussed the issue since both of us were committed. Or so we pretended that was the reason. Years later while discussing the ups and downs of her relationship (with another man), I ended up revealing my attraction and BOOM! she admitted it too. It was almost like we were playing a card game as to who would reveal first. But admitting did not change things much. So my argument - what's the point?

Other times I remember working alongside or meeting (in one case an old lady who used to braid her hair with strips of coloured cloth running through her hair) someone, where you just enjoy the moment since that is something you can never recreate. You are scared that telling would break the whole thing up. In any case even if one doesn't, our actions betray us all the time. When we are around the person, we are always doing things to impress or act nonchalant so as to not say something stupid.

The tough part is not to say it out - it is to keep the mystery, the game going so that both parties enjoy the trip. There is so much written about declaring your love, being honest and being true to one's emotions, I think it time to try the opposite.

Because, sometimes when all is said, there may be nothing else left to say.