Desicritics Author: RukmaniRam

Pantastic-a-la-Sanya

RukmaniRam — Tue, 7 Oct 2008 07:27:56 EDT

When you're a grad student on a near non existent budget, eating out is the first thing that gets ditched. And if you have too much work, your cooking tends to take a hike as well. But you tried, tried your best to eat proper food. But tight time schedules wrecked havoc. That was when your friend Sanya (name changed for the sake of punnability) introduced you to pasta and you take to it immediately. All it took was to boil the water. And you didn't have to make rasam or curry. You had store bought pasta sauce.

But you soon realize you haven't been eating any vegetables. So you toss some into the pan. Then you realize that you need protein. So you add in some beans. And through weeks of cooking the same one-pot-minimal-dish-wash-requiring meal, you have *it*- the perfect tasting, well balanced, easy 12 minute meal (which, if you make in a larger pot, is many meals in 12 minutes). And since it is easy (both to make, and on your conscience), it becomes your staple food. You eat it at least six times a week. Why wouldn't you? It took you many months to perfect. It's delicious. And fairly balanced.

Then, one day, you realize that you are bored of it. You wonder if you should switch back to rice for a while. Or try your hand at a sandwich. Or maybe just "tweak it up a little, shake things around"-and you do. Then you realize you have broccoli in your pasta. But you still prefer it to standing at the stove making rotis, or cleaning the dishes after the rice, sambar and curry. It is less than perfect, but you chose to make it this way.

You still have the perfect pasta once in a while, but today, as you stare at the Brussels sprouts at the bottom of the lunch box, you wonder- were you that desperate to change this? Things that you invested yourself in to make them flawless? You wonder if this is how people deal with life in general. Search around in all earnest to find perfection- the perfect dress, the perfect house, the perfect relationship. It takes time, it takes effort. But then it's there. And well worth it.

And then, suddenly, perfection becomes too normal to mean anything anymore. You begin to wonder if what you have *is* in fact, perfection. You wonder if it could have been made better. And you try. And then you find the Brussels sprouts in your box. And you aren't sure if you are supposed to be happy or sad about it. Happy that it was only pasta, happy that you were brave enough to move out of your comfort zone and make the change. Or sad that you couldn't accept boring and mundane in things as trivial as pasta. Or afraid that you would find Brussels sprouts and broccoli in something way more important than pasta, and realize to your horror, that you put it in there.

In Our Stride

RukmaniRam — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 00:42:59 EDT

't all is now a distant memory
What I was to you, what you were to me
What it was, and what it could be.

I had hopes, you had a dream,
A quest, to be supreme
And we each were lost, in this worldly scheme.

I can see now, 'twas a mistake
Putting life on pause, for success' sake.
I look back now and I ache.

Now I'm tired, I want to slow down
I'm not sure I really want the crown
Before it's too late, I want to leave town

To have an evening off, to read a book,
To go on a hunt for Tennyson's babbling brook
To listen and not just hear; to see and not just look.

But alas, on we pound
So far ahead, there's no one around
Not even each other, I'm left staring, without a sound

"Take time to smell the flowers
To enjoy the breeze and the showers"
Borrowed lines that I wish were ours.

Of Cats, Dogs and Individuals

RukmaniRam — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 00:20:43 EDT

Last week, I visited Fox- friend, kitten lover and a SPCA volunteer. As always, I found a kitten (this time around, it was Peekaboo) she was fostering for the SPCA. But there was also another cat, Harlequin, who "found" Fox and often came to eat and snuggle. Fox tried to find the owner of the cat. But when Harley was still homeless after a few weeks , she was taken to the SPCA to be cared for and hopefully adopted. Having grown up in a country where cats, dogs, cows and other such animals roam the streets with authority, I wondered why Harley had to be adopted or stay at the SPCA. Couldn't she just be a cat that wandered the neighborhood? Apparently, not. She had to "belong" to a family. She *had* to be a pet.

The same goes for dogs too. It was then that I realized that I had hardly seen a stray animal in the 11 months I have spent here in the US. Fox tells me that I had to look in the right places to find them. Besides, those animals did not want to be seen by humans- either because they once belonged to a family and later were dumped, or had been mistreated by people and were so affected that they feared us. These animals had to be pets (or livestock a la barn cats), because they could not survive on their own. If left to themselves, what happens when they are sick/hurt? They would have no one to take care of them. I have also heard that the "wild" ones would run loose acting out their whims and fancies with no one to regulate them.

My mind kept drifting to the dog that gave birth to her litter underneath the staircase of my aunt's house in Chennai and then I felt I had heard something very similar before. Of the need to "belong" and "not be just a cat"… Oh yes, I know what it is. It's the older generation referring to me! But of course! You had to be part of a family. You *had* to be a pet (or in some cases, livestock too! :P) and belong. You couldn't be just a person, just a woman. I could also see the other parallels… People disliking or being afraid of society: either because they were disowned by it, or because they were taunted by it.

When I told someone that I enjoyed living by myself I was accused of abandoning my responsibilities towards my family! My desire to live alone as an adult is seen as unnatural, and I was branded as "Americanized". Wait… what? Why? "Because in India there is no life living alone. There isn't meaning to your life unless you have someone to live for (or had someone who lived for you). An individual life has no meaning at all." If you are defined by your job, you are a workaholic; if you live alone and go to grad school, you are a student; if you are married, you are a wife (and if you stay at home too, you are a housewife... being the wife of a house is something I find highly amusing!), you're a daughter in law, a mom, a sister (or a son, brother, father, husband- I hear this isn't gender specific!). I always thought these were roles we played in our lives, and who we were was defined by our interests, our passions, our principles and our beliefs.

Another person I have known for a very long time loathes the word "independence", because, to him, it implies defiance of authority.I don't get it. Independence, or as I like to call it (and think is more appropriate, seeing as human society is inherently interdependent) – self reliance (emotional, physical, financial- anyway you see it) is real hard. It is a lot of responsibility- towards yourself and towards society. It's not about not having a boss; it's about not having someone to lead you on. It is not about not having anyone to answer to; it's about being answerable to yourself. My reluctance to go back and "belong" to the structured society also stems from the fear that the freedom of thought and (to some extent) action that I have developed over the past few years will be unceremoniously taken away from me. I live with the elders, I'm always someone's beta, and a Beta is never an Alpha.

I'm not saying I do not like being part of a family. I'm only saying; don't feel sorry for me if I don't. I'm not saying that I don't need people around me. I'm only saying; if there aren't I'm still going to be okay. I'm not saying I don't want to be a pet. I'm only saying; that sometimes I want to be just a cat.

P.S: To all the PJ masters out there, I am speaking metaphorically. I do NOT *actually* want to be a cat.

Follywood Sooperheroes

RukmaniRam — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 08:32:36 EDT

Can you imagine the powers their kid will have?

Now Spiderman is probably furious after watching this! Not only does his rip off not have to wear the mask (its got to be sweaty and icky in there man!) but she also got to fly! He only lost his mask halfway up his face to facilitate kissing and he had to get beaten up! Spiderwoman here didn't even throw a punch even when the dedicated duo chose to fight crime in between their song and dance. (by the way, what were the thugs trying to do anyway???)

If they can dance in the sky, why land in the middle of a filmy park to do the same?

Did Superman and Spiderwoman not have enough fun that they had to join a lakeside dance party that looked like the late 80's imitation version of MTV Grind? It has got to be.. those guys are so hammered, they don't seem to mind SUPERMAN and SPIDERWOMAN descending amidst them, and they even gave those two center stage!

And finally, does this qualify as some sort of superhero incest?

P.S: I've decided to ignore the amateur "special" effects. Especially how they become slightly ethereal when they're airborne. AND the fact that superman is wearing the wrong colored boots. And a slightly off-color tight-suit

Pappu Learns To Dance

RukmaniRam — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 02:27:04 EDT

So we have our Specimen A (read Pappu) who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth (which was later surgically removed, I suppose). Hits the gym everyday and builds his boddie to make full use of his blue eyed angrez looks. The man has it all- a fancy schmancy MBA, holidays in France, the fast cars, the expensive watches and designer perfume (the modern metrosexual man, eh?).. No wonder he's a craze among the lay-deej! Still has his papa's faith (mine lost faith in me sometime in high school), musically talented.. The man reigns where ever he goes. But poor Specimen A, in spite of all this, the dude is taunted, publicly, in a farewell party with real loud music. Teased by the very people he parties with, his popularity and star quality notwithstanding- simply because he cannot dance!

Now consider Specimen B - yours truly. Pappu probably is already at a dance studio, the finest his money can get! Not only can B not dance (and not afford the class either), B doesn't have any of the other things Pappu has. If the well endowed and talented Pappu's fate is this, mera kya hoga, Kaaliya??

Dream sequence: song and dance, with at least a hundred youngsters on the floor, and a DJ wearing psychedelic colors (well, Specimen B can't have real parties, the lease doesn't allow that, don't you know?)

Tirkit daana tirkit daana hee hee haa haa last chance
Tirkit daana tirkit daana hee hee haa haa last chance

Hai globular, hai jocular,
Hai globular, hai jocular, irregular and singular! (she's singular.. she's singular)
Iski to life ek daze hai
140 pounds she weighs hai
Her mundane life is rotten through
Milta nahi use praise hai... (use praise hai...)
Ise gaana nahi aata hai, but gaati "la la la"
Iske muh pe lagaao thaala! (hoye hoye hoye hoye)
Iske muh pe lagaao thaala! (hoye hoye hoye hoye)

Wenna may I see you when you prance and you fall
And a wenna may I see you when you prance….hey!

Tirkit daana tirkit daana hee hee haa haa fat chance
Tirkit daana tirkit daana hee hee haa haa fat chance

Paida yeh hui to tab bhi thi yeh chunky
Kisi se na hui dosti, aur nikli ek flunkie
Hey yeah yeah... iske paas na paisaaaaa
Hey yeah yeah... wants a guy Imraan ke jaisaa
Hey yeah yeah... yeh to bahut bekaar hai......
Hey yeah yeah.. paas na car hai, na yaar hai
And she never got romance waala! (hoye hoye hoye hoye)
And she never got romance waala! (hoye hoye hoye hoye)

End dream sequence

Sigh.

P.S. to the non-Hindi-understanding section of the readership: English translation to the dream sequence can be found here
P.P.S: the original score can be found here