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March 31, 2008

Lindsay Has Trust Issues Over The Sex Tape

Why do celebs make video tapes and then scream be-loody Mary when the shit is aired on the web?

The Sun said a source, who overheard her rant, claimed Lohan was screaming: “I can’t believe you would ever f***ing do this to me, I should have listened to everyone. I should never have f***ing trusted you.”

Never fucking do this to you? Think - Pamela Anderson, think Paris Hilton; think all the nasty wild Hos who shed their clothes to make some shoddy home porn videos.

You are just another tape floating on the internet ether. Give a few minutes and your buck naked pumping ass will be yesterday's news;)

Fiction:Kindred Spirits

They had known each other for over two decades, they had shared their deepest thoughts and moments with each other; considered each other to be soul mates, they shared the same habits, they were loners who'd lose contact with the world for months on end, suffer bone wrenching depression but then emerge like the phoenix, colorful, gay and self destructive.

Others called them weird, rebellious, edgy; phantoms they could rely on during moments of crisis but those who in moments of happiness sunk deep into melancholy.

They held hands and tears glimmered in their eyes. The wretched irony of the situation made them laugh. What bought them together decades before, the deep understanding of two miserable souls gravitating towards each other finally lay open like a rotted poisonous snake.

The one and only secret that they had buried deep within from the world and each other was finally spoken. The gruffness of pain and affection made them immobile. No hugs were exchanged, no understanding offered but they knew what the other felt.

They wished the one thing that made them feel like kindred spirits would not have been the underlying cause of their friendship, the very reason for them being so alike.

They wished the childhood abuse had never happened.

March 25, 2008

Chihuahua Prays For Treats

A Japanese chihuahua prays for treats;) Ain't he cute? CPS.MSC30.240308050855.photo00.photo.jpg

Rinku Sachdeva Dies Again Online

Rinku Sachdeva was allegedly suffocated to death by a pillow. Thereafter Amit Budhiraja allegedly hung himself to death. She was a Scorpio and he a Leo. She was from Mumbai and he a Delhiite. She was an outgoing Sikhni and he a Punjabi boy.

Their marriage was doomed from the beginning. He wanted perfection in love and she - who knows what she wanted. She is dead and he allegedly killed her. He claimed she had an affair but who knows?

In the online world, she has been tried and found guilty. They believe she was a promiscuous c$%#*& who deserved what came to her. They have murdered her again - believed his six page rant verbatim, where he alleged her ongoing affair, that her immoral potential blackmail of 498a drove him to kill her and commit suicide on a Holi night.

All of this is his side of the story but what was her side of the story? Does any one care? Was he an obsessive, conservative, insanely jealous man, blaming his marital troubles on platonic friends?

Could that not be her version? How are we to know? Even if she did fall for someone else, was that reason enough to kill? 

Crime of passion or pre-meditated murder - no one deserves to die when it comes to matters of the heart.

Two young lives snuffed, grieving families left behind and plenty of fodder left for the online world to moralize, pontificate and deride.

March 23, 2008

Whatcha address?

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Steel Bunnz Badger's Snake

March 22, 2008

Holi- Not My Kind Of Festival

I am all for people having a ball on Holi but don't be offended if you find me lying through my teeth about not being home if you want to come over and play with chemical colours and cold water.

My memories of this festival are mixed. It was fun to drop water balloons at strangers, play with the water pistols but I dreaded being dragged to the neighbor's home where they played rough.

Despite all my loud protests, buckets full of cold coloured water was thrown over me, having permanent gullal and paint rubbed all over my face and body in the name of fun.

My worst memory is of being eight years old and being dragged by my upper arms as I lay on the floor to the area where buckets of smelly water were being filled. Fear coursed through my veins and I screamed but that a-hole of an uncle laughed and proceeded to roughly colour me up, drench me and then forcefully squish balloons against me.

Once he was done with me and had me in tears, he went looking for another human being who barely reached his waist. I saw my friends meet the same fate and I continue to hate that dude even today.

I never thought of telling my parents about it - none of us did. We saw ladies being grabbed, even grannies got that manic look in their eyes. It was as if the world had gone mad and there was no safe place to hide from.

Thankfully, we played within homes, goons had taken to the streets, some stoned with bhang and others just drunk.

But it wasn't as if we needed to be protected from strangers but from people we had known since we were tots. People who became completely sane by lunch time but before that enjoyed festive hooliganism.

By the time we became teenagers we became adamant about us three sisters not wanting to play but the neighbours thought it was their god given right to come and badger us while my sisters and I hid in the bathrooms.

The conversations generally went like this-

Come out and play!!

I hate holi!!

Come out!!

No way! I don't like the way it is played!

What do you mean? Its always been played this way.

No Aunty!! I am not coming out of the bathroom.

Accha beta! Just a little Gullal for Sagan


That's when one gave in. Respect and obedience towards the adults always took precedence over self preservation.

We'd open the door and were grabbed and the same shit would begin again.

Grabbing, dragging, pushing, smelly colours till one fine day I told my parents this wasn't my idea of fun, it was abuse and an invasion of personal space.

There was a big discussion in our house that Holi evening. My parents and grandparents conceded that people became wild while having fun during Holi but that was why we were always protected, we played with those who loved us.

Nothing untoward really happened.

It took us a while to make them realize that this wasn't a civilized way of playing Holi.

We didn't mind a little gullal but the violence had to stop.

People had horrid stories to tell about this festival. Some even boasted that they had bhang, saw their friends become stupid, who roughed who up, how many days it took to get the paint off their skin, the rashes, the bruises, the capillaries being burst and taking eye medicines and all I thought was - Stupidos!!

People back in my neighbourhood continue to play Holi they way they did back then. My sister today hid in the bathroom as usual, my mom was respectfully called over and then blackmailed that her house would be made dirty if she didn't come and play.

She wasn't roughened up, a little gullal was put on her- she is an 'elderly lady' after all but the young crowd played rough with each other and their kids. They continue to bond via congenial violence

I shivered as she told me over the phone. I remembered that next door uncle, the smell of nasty color and told her I was glad I wasn't in Delhi during Holi.

March 20, 2008

Writers Block

Suffering from massive writer's block. Started exercising, drinking a liter of water, become a piss pot and suffering from insomnia. Keep waking up at 3 AM 4 AM 5 AM and then finally at 6 AM.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

March 17, 2008

Shame On Fiona MacKeown For Trying To Excuse Abandoning Her Child With Strangers

Sympathy for Fiona MacKeown is on its last leg with most parents:

Scarlett was having the time of her life in Anjuna, taking free jet-ski rides and helping Julio Lobo, a 25-year-old tour operator, to organise dolphin trips.

MacKeown agreed that she could stay with Lobo and his aunt in their old Portuguese villa inland at Siolim, provided she joined the family every three days. MacKeown visited the villa and had dinner with the aunt and came away satisfied that her daughter would be safe. “Julio was a 25-year-old caring man,” she says.

When to allow a teenager new freedoms is a dilemma all parents have to face. But MacKeown also had blind faith in the goodness of strangers. She left Scarlett in the care of an elderly woman she had met only once, with no money of her own and without a mobile phone.


Goodness of strangers? I think she thought she had one less mouth to feed or one less loose cannon to try to control.

Scarlett came to visit by bus. MacKeown says her biggest regret is allowing her to return to Anjuna. They argued about how little time she was spending with her brothers and sisters and her determination to have more freedom. Like any 15-year-old she was pushing the boundaries, wanting more control over her life.

According to MacKeown, Scarlett had been in a sexual relationship, had smoked cannabis and sometimes drank beer or Bacardi Breezers, but was not out of control.


Thats not being out of control?

MacKeown says she stopped smoking hashish when she realised how drugs had affected him. “I had to show a better example to my kids,” she says.

She was a junkie herself and she stopped doing drugs after the damage had already been done. Kids emulate their parents

When MacKeown got back to Goa, she discovered from her daughter’s diary that she had been having sex with Lobo and that in a row he had accused her of using him for “sex and money”. MacKeown believes Lobo’s aunt asked Scarlett to leave after discovering they were having sex and that she moved into a guesthouse.

Living your minor daughter with a 25 year old man what do you expect? Him to treat her like a child. He aint no Peter Pan!!

Faced with this devastating account of her daughter’s last hours, MacKeown admits: “I didn’t understand the culture or the mindset of the Goan boys, right up to when she was killed.”

In her parallel hippie universe, she had done nothing worse than trust people. Her pierced lip quivers and she begins to cry for the daughter she will never see again.


Guess what lady your living on the good will of strangers cost you your child's life. The world is not some Sesame street where all are kind, generous and civil. Its a mean horrid world and your mooching off attitude, self absorbed, abandoning your child in the name of freedom cost you your child's life.

There is no excusing your part in this whole tragedy and worse still you continue to pass the buck. Shame on you!!

March 15, 2008

Hyperventilating In Bangalore's Hypermarkets

If you live in or anywhere near Koramangala in Bangalore, then the mushrooming of various grocery stores and malls must have given you plenty of choice and taken away many reasons to venture into the city. 

There are plenty to choose from and most are placed at convenient spots. However there are differences in all these malls that effect the shopping experience and should be taken into account.

The Oasis Mall: The Oasis Mall on the Inner Ring Road may look spectacular from outside but there are glitches that are irksome. The parking structure has sharp turns. Before turning into any level one has to reverse, take a smaller angle and then turn. The parking is a nightmare, requiring personal floor attendants to help the cars to pull out. Obviously the owners of the mall are well aware of the problem since each floor has at least six people to help cars pull out.

The hyper grocery store, Spar, has one tiny little elevator to take the trolley and family back to the right parking level. Those who don't want to wait for the elevator find themselves walking down the parking ramp with cars honking behind them.

It is unsafe and even though the hypermarket provides employees to take the stuff to the car but hey, best keep your fingers crossed that the car honking behind you and that heavy cart of yours have good brakes.

Most people who revisit the store generally park right at the Hypermarket level to avoid this inconvenience. 

Above the hypermarket, there is an area for kids to play in and the food court. Prices are reasonable and most families have a good time there.

Below Spar, there is Lifestyle, the upmarket departmental store. Its a tinier version of the original one near the Stadium. It is a pleasure to be there, as usual, without bumping into people. Suffice to say its an upper class mall where you won't get the crowd you might see at the Garuda Mall.

Total Mall- There are two Total Malls near Koramangala. One is at Madiwala and the other is on Sarjapur Road. The grocery section of Total is good, the meat section awesome - fresh meat, fish and hygienic presentation. The butchers in the Madiwala Post Total are perfectionists. They also have an impressive liquor section, with a variety of local and imported wines, whiskeys, and beers.

Total Mall's clothes and toy sections are dirt cheap and very Wal-mart in their appearance. I generally buy sarees and salwars for the 'help' from Total.

There are a few other independent stores in both the malls. The Madiwala Total also has a McDonald's, their food court is awesome with a wide selection of food- ranging from Thai, continental, Indian, Chinese etc.

The Total Mall on Sarjapur Road is similar to the other, but it also sells Aquariums and live Fish. I, however, won't recommend buying Live Fish from that Mall since the public is known to net them, knock on the glass and the employee responsible for that section is too scared to tell people to look but not touch. His knowledge of tropical and cold water fish is zilch. Its best to buy fish from proper Aquarium shops, like Gulmarg in Koramangala or Wet Pets on Infantry Road.

Star: Star is a Tata venture and very similar to Total Mall except it has more variety in terms of grocery. Apart from regular dog food, they stock Whiskas that my cats love. One gets Vanilla Coke over there and unlike Total Mall, they keep curd and yoghurt. Their cheese selection is better than that of Total Mall and so is the fresh produce. They do not have a liquor section, but then again, the liquor section in Spar sucks.

The toys selection is better than that of Total but the clothes and home products are the same quality - cheap in both price and quality.

The meat and fish counter is as good as Total's but due to the perpetual crowd the butchers are not able to provide personal attention.

Forum Mall: Next to Star is Forum with a grocery store in it. Since the mega grocery stores are next to it, I've stopped visiting the new one (More) that took over the previous Fabmall grocery store.

Big Bazaar: Big Bazaar is always full of people despite the prices and quality of products being pretty much the same as the other hypermarkets. Big Bazaar lacks the finish of Total Mall, Star and Spar and while to some people that is of no consequence, I would rather shop for my groceries in relative comfort, a congenial environment and fast cash counters.

Apart from these big hypermarkets, Koramangala and HSR Layout have regular stores such as Reliance Fresh, Namdhari, FabMall (More), Spencer's etc., and of course the regular mom's and pop's stores - which will never go away.

Despite all these grocery stores I was pretty excited when Nilgiris opened up in HSR Layout, since I love the store's white butter, milk and curd. Also, they keep all the Thai pastes and other Chinese sauces that one has to otherwise hunt around in Bangalore.

Their produce section is very small obviously since people prefer to buy their veggies from Namdhari. 

Time and again I have seen couples poring over their bills outside Hyper Markets. Well, in a mom's and pop's store one would buy only the essentials but in these hypermarkets we all get carried away and buy all sorts of relevant palette titillating expensive stuff.

Grocery shopping has now become an outing on par with going to the other temples of consumerism for Bangaloreans;) 

March 13, 2008

Net Trawl: Human Needs And Deeds

Its all about skin and bones today:

Woman sits on boyfriend's toilet seat for two years!

Whole Range Human- all packed and ready to consume

Chinese Fur Farm

The video is gruesome and upsetting but its important to see to know how much misery greed for fur causes. Say- No to fur

March 10, 2008

Fiction: An Episode In A Quiet Neighborhood

Slowly she twisted the knob on the door and stepped out. The door automatically locked behind her. Crickets sang and sprinkles went off in the neighbor's yard. The smell of wet mud assailed her senses.

The suburban neighborhood was quiet. It was two in the night. Except for the raccoons going through the trash no one was awake.

The moon peeked through the clouds and its rays turned her hair into molten fire. She was a vision even though a heavily pregnant one. A bruised Madonna trying to escape the sacred chains.

Her mouth was set in tight lines. She hefted her rucksack over her shoulders and waddled away from a home she had known for five years. Five years of beating, rape and miscarriages.

This was her third conception- a forced one but she wouldn't have her child suffer what she lived.

She knew where the near by shelter was but couldn't go there. He was a cop and so were his friends. They had powers, she didn't.

Was someone following her? Was she being paranoid?

The hair on her nape rose. Something was wrong.

She saw the headlights of a turning car. She backed away as the headlights glared and sped towards her.

She ran but the car was faster.

There was a sickening bump, bigger and nastier than running over an animal.

His eyes closed briefly- pain and anger fought mercilessly in his mind. His hand trembled as he took out his gun. He looked at the broken body lying on the road from his rear view mirror. Streaming red hair bled on the dark tar.

He cocked his gun, put the muzzle in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

There was a bang, the neighbors woke up, peeked outside and called 911.

March 09, 2008

Forever Outsiders

So, are you Tamil or Kannadiga?

The lady whose daughter is to be my maid shook her head.

No, we are Telegu.

The pretty girl and I looked at each other and smiled. It was back to the drawing board for me. I would probably be buying the Learn Telegu In Thirty Days book.

My previous maid who ditched me had taught me a little bit of Tamil and I taught her a lot of English. She wanted to learn Hindi. I told her we didn't speak much Hindi so English it was.

She went back to her village, taught her kids English, taught her relatives some nice English cuss words that she made me teach her, and then after two years of work, the lady disappeared on me.

So now I am back to square one but this time I am going to spend most of my time with someone who feels as much an outsider in Bangalore as me.

Lata doesn't understand Kannada, Tamil, Hindi or English. She's from a small village in Andhara Pradesh and lives with her family close by.

She peeked at me from behind her mother who blabbered in broken Hindi, "We have to save for her marriage. We need the money. We don't want her to work at the Garment factory, men look and touch."

I nodded. I knew what she was talking about. Lata seemed like a sweet young girl, impressionable. She is friendless, knows only a few local people through her family.

We are both the same - immigrants making Bangalore our home with affiliations to other states that have become mere nostalgic memories.

Here in my little corner of the world, people from all over India live around us. My neighbors are Marwaris - they run the local electricity, jewelry and plumbing shops- they are called 'Setus' by the locals, Tamilians abound, Andhraites, and apart from us the only Punjabis here are the techies living next door who play hip hop once in a while, apart from the regular loud boombox variety of music.

We all meet early in the morning on our sides of the road waiting for the garbage truck, with our filth in shopping bags or proper garbage bags. Some of us are in nighties and some in shorts. All of us rumpled and all of us outsiders.

A grimace for a smile passes as our eyes meet and we walk back to our homes.

People knock on our gate - they want Mango leaves or Neem leaves, some ask for Marigolds, some admire the roses. 

They chatter in Kannada or Tamil and I reply somehow. The locals look at me and know I am an outsider. My looks say - Northie. Skin color and features scream the difference.

But I feel I am the same as they are. I see the same problems that plague all of us - health, money, home, education.

We find ourselves discussing these mutual matters - the ladies and I. They tell me I am easy to talk to, friendly and easy to relate despite the differences.

Needy old me looking for some people to chat with wonder out loud - What differences?

They titter and I read their mind- She is weird, returned from America.

I smile, let them out of my home and stare at my Learn so and so language books.

The World Of Writing

Writing requires rigor and discipline. It’s a machine that needs to churned, kept lubricated and fresh. If the momentum is lost then much like sex it takes effort to get back in the mood to write, to get the characters back in their mood to be who they have to be and do what they have to do. And much like the dried up juices of a clit ignored sometimes the pleasure of writing disappears but much like the fake sex and fake orgasm we go on writing.
The churning becomes mechanical, the enchantment dies and the characters are left in limbo- abandoned by the cruel god. It’s becomes a bleak duty performed but not loved.

The outside world beckons and love for the written word dims. A silent death happens and someone somewhere never gets to read what could have been the best read ever.

Sex I love as much as I love to write. It comes easy to do both – I was born that way but one is an act that lasts a few moments stretched to sensual eternity, the other a love harder than any other relationship I have yet experienced. It demands complete servitude, disownment of all that isn’t related to the world I create in my mind and on the laptop screen.

The passion of writing leaves me drained. It sucks me in like a subtle vampire, addicted to the drawing of blood, of emotions and all that is me. Spilled on the paper – the hatred, the pity, the love and the cruelty that isn’t me.
I sit back and read all that is written. Chapter 1, Chapter 2 – oh! She is such a bitch. How could she be like this? He be such a victim?

I write ferociously, they act all nasty and their emotions become mine. The book in progress lives through my days and nights, haunts my dreams demanding answers, their needs driving me over the bend.

Write they tell me. Don’t stop, don’t raise your head, don’t look at that child demanding your attention. We need you and you need us. We are one, write and live through us, the real world is just an illusion.
Discipline and rigor become things of past. Like other writers I become a literary nymphomaniac wanting more than possible, the sickness eats from within, the anti social addicted monster raises its beastly head demanding more blood than ever before.

Insanity seems like a blessed relief however its close but no cigar. The need for completion isn’t the mission but the need to stay in the moment of intense concentration, of heightened emotional being that keeps me spellbound and entrapped in those painful moments that may possibly stretch months to years.

Break the link and its an addiction easily forgotten. Does that make me a fickle writer or just human being needing to recuperate before I once again lose myslef in a passion that lives through others.

March 08, 2008

Aye Hip Hopper

When I first saw this song on Channel V I hated it! But somehow I found myself warming up to it and singing - Aye Hip Hopper!!

March 07, 2008

Linked

While deleting old mails on my Gmail account ( I happen to be one of those babes who likes to keep the numbers down in her mail box) I happened to come across one of Wondermark's old posts and the comic scribes through it. Even after two years it continues to be funny.

The next is some weird porno site called Whorelore. Its some hot titty babe doing people historically. Its kind of NSFW and even has a YouTube trailer which btw doesn't show much.

Cat Of 1000 Faces

March 05, 2008

South African Lizard

South%20African%20Lizard.jpg

Quote Of The Day: Love Is A Tyrant

Love is a tyrant. Isn't it. It keeps you in thrall, it makes you do things you would never do in your right mind, go places you especially don't want to go. It screws up your thinking, not to mention your stomach.
--------Jane Juska

Our Pets- Zoey And Kensei

We have two cats - Zoey and Kensei. Zoey is a Turkish Angora and Kensie - well, he is prettier than Zoey but we love them equally. Kitty politics always simmer within our four walls. Since we got Zoey when she was barely a month a old she naturally assumed me to be her surrogate mother. We adopted Kensei when he was four months old and five months after Zoey's arrival at the Lamba residence.

Zoey is very possessive about me. She hates it when Kensei demands my attention. They had a nasty fight on my lap recently for a few seconds that seemed to last a life time. I went loco thinking of ripped bloody thighs and tetanus shot at the Emergency Ward.P1080033-1.JPG

But being good natured they broke up, gave each other the standoff look and ran after each other around the house. Kensei like Zoey had been sick when we got him from the pet shop. Initially Zoey hated him, she'd hiss and snarl when he made overtures towards her but as his condition deteriorated Zoey began to follow Kensei around.

I realized her concern when I gave Kensei a bath after he had soiled himself badly. He squirmed and wriggled but I was ruthless and quick; cleaning kitty bums has to be a super fast affair.PC210008.JPG

He made all kinds of nasty sounds. I grabbed a towel and wrapped him, turned and nearly fell over Zoey who had been silenlty sitting behind me all the while.

She worried over Kensie, bumped his nose and sat by his side while he recuperated. It took Kensei a week to get well but once he regained his appetite, put some weight back on the wars began again but this time the fights had a mock characteristic.

They tussled over each other, grabbed each other by the neck but nary a snarl or hiss.

Zoey continues to be the alpha female even though Kensei in a matter of month has become twice her size. Kensei tries to get my attention when Zoey is asleep or else there is hell to pay. Initaially we both are give the cold treatment for being 'unfaithful' and then Kensei get beaten up.

Cats in many ways are like dogs. They both wait by the door when Aaman's car pulls into the driveway. If a family member falls sick the cats offer comfort and like dogs they are always hungry.

What makes them different from dogs? They love to watch television, sit on my laptop keys, they love to climb into all kinds of places I have a tough time getting them down from and their nocturnal habits cause a lot of crashes around the house which used to make us jump in our beds but not any more and best of all they don't slobber.

March 04, 2008

SMS Language

SMS me the phone number

SMS me your home address

SMS me the joke.

The joke? The gawd damn joke? The whole freaking thing? Who actually types out jokes? And now people can even twitter from their phones.

I hate SMSing. The damn keys are small, the chances of making spelling mistakes frequent and the way people piss all over the language makes me wanna swoon. For example

Are u cuming?

Yes, Im cumng in ten mins

Now thats normal conversation

Here is the frustrated conversation:

Where u?

Where u told me

No u not here

I am where you?

PVR

Me too

By then they get bugged and one of them calls up and work it out. I call this SMS addiction and penny pinching

Next are the love lorn idiots ( we all have been there )

I lve u

No, I lve u more

No, I lve u 10 times mre

So u think

So I know

Gimme kiss

Smooch.

Yup, all this shit over SMS. Thankfully I have yet to hear of break ups over SMS

Its over

Vat?

U knew it was cuming

What was cuming?

This

No, I didnt

It is all me

Yes, all you

Bastard!!

Bitch!!

Now thats an interesting SMS exchange but rarely heard of.

March 03, 2008

Indian Freed From Pakistani Prison After 35 Years

An Indian was freed from Pakistani jail after being incarcerated for thirty five years on death row:

Kashmir Singh was sentenced to death for spying in 1973 and is set to be reunited with his family.

Mr Singh was discovered by Ansar Burney, a social worker who tracks people lost in Pakistan's jail system.
He was arrested in the city of Rawalpindi in 1973 and convicted of spying.Pakistan and India frequently arrest each other's citizens, often accusing them of straying across the border - some are treated as spies.

Mr Singh will be reunited with his wife and children but has suffered deal of mental trauma.

March 02, 2008

Hoodwinking And YouTubing A Child's Humiliation

This video had me fuming. A kid named Jonathan had been 'had' by his insensitive family when they gave him clothes in an XBox carton. The poor kid was heartbroken, his family snickered and his older brother uploaded the video on YouTube to share his younger sibling's humiliation with the world.

Engadget featured the story and were so mad that they decided to send him an XBox and they were flooded with hundreds of emails from readers and from Microsoft wanting to help out the child.

What made me mad was just not the prank but the brother telling his brother- You know we cannot afford an XBox as if that gave legitimacy to the hoodwinking.

We all know that feeling when as kids we wanted something so bad that we could taste it and many a times our parents used our need to teach us the value of money or not to bow down to peer pressure in case we used the excuse that everyone has it and so should we.

But to play such a prank was mean. All they had to do was sit the kid down and tell him that they couldn't afford the console- plain and simple- their family couldn't afford such a novelty.

On dig the story was dug over four thousand times and most considered the family to be douche bags. To some extent, sure, they completely lacked sense of humor but to say they were the worst parents was taking it too far.

Worst parents are those who leave their baby in car seat for eight days and play their video games causing the baby's death. Now that's neglect and abuse. The family obviously kept him warm, well fed and loved just that they lacked basic human sensitivity.

What happened in this case was an obnoxious prank that should not have been played on a kid.  Adults have better coping mechanisms and generally are able to laugh these things off but to do this to a boy no more than eight or nine was just heartbreaking for most of us adults who watched the video.

March 01, 2008

South Asian Food Habits

Do South Asian lives revolve around food? A distant NRI relative of mine thinks so-

According to my uncle, we suffer from the Hun Ki khana? (what will we eat next?) Syndrome

Once breakfast is over, its tea time with biscuits, soon lunch, a little break, then tea time again with maybe Pakoras, Bhujiya or hot potato chips, by nine its dinner and then another cup of tea or coffee before sleeping.

Isn't that a whole lot of eating? Not to mention the neurotic addiction to chai?

Till recently Indians were known to be slightly overweight but not obese. We generally got to see old Auntyji's with flesh oozing out from the sides like muffin tops but now more and more young school going kids and even young adults are suffering from massive weight issues.

Blame it on sedentary life, oily food, in between snacking and what I call - food affairs.

What are food affairs? Its a thing that started from the time when we were kids. Our mothers ran after us screaming- finish your food, you are not allowed to waste it. Last bite, absolutely the last bite.

As kids we were quick on our little feet- I am full, I don't want more.

But due to size and height differences once caught up the mothers made sure we finished our food. The end result? We stopped listening to our bodies signals when we became full and continued to gorge till we felt kind of sick and in need of Pudin Hara

How about those Aunties who fill the plates up - Nahi Baacha, you must eat more.

We'd get that sinking feeling in our stomachs and wonder how come the fellow who invited us over is so skinny despite having a mother given to using gluttony as a means of hospitality.

Not eating all that food would obviously be seen as an insult and we go through the heroic effort of not puking all that overeaten Rajma Chawal or Reshami Kabab over the table.

Food Affairs have become the bane of our lives. We live to eat and not the other way. 

With the moms' and pops' shops closing down and hyper markets like Total and Star opening up I have seen people buying more junk food than they would have from regular grocery stores.

Though we are still buying fresh veggies and meats, there are also tons of cans of Haldiram Gulabjamuns, packeted Chaats and other processed snacks which a few decades back we would have had to go over to Chaat shops to eat.

But capitalism came to our palettes rescue. Now just about all food items can be bought off the shelves microwaved and consumed. Though they all may seem convenient what we tend to forget is that they are processed food items and add to our waistlines.

The best place to see the Indian love for food is at the hyper grocery stores where people discover their favorite food brands and smile as if they have hit the jackpot. 

With the booming economy are our waistlines also booming? Or did Capitalism merely compound a pre-existing problem where we always loved our food but now due to choice have we completely tipped the scales?


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