True Blue Desi

I am resolutely restraining myself from commenting on the SRK-Shiv Sena face off. Any polemic with bollywood involved is such a crowd puller. And I am not rushing to join the volley of easy support for SRK. Indo-Pak relations are embroiled in such conflict and I don't agree it is as easy as "These players were coming here to hit balls ... why the ruckus" as Salman Khan voices.

(Shudder! I never would have thought I'd quote Salman Khan on my blog! )

But when I read about Shiv Sena top brass' reference to Rahul Gandhi as the Italian prince and their remark that 'Mumbai' does not belong to his 'Italian mummy', it disgusts me.

It is the feeling I have everytime time someone harps on Sonia Gandhi's foreign origin.

She came to India as a bride and made this country her home for the following 42 years. Who would have faulted her had she gone back to Italy after her husband's death.

But she stayed on and made a reluctant entry into politics a decade later to save the flagging Congress Party.

She went on to be Party President, Leader of the Opposition and finally in 2004 , the priminister's post was hers for taking, but she renounced it. Under her leadership the Party forged on to another win in General Elections 2009.

She speaks hindi, only wears saris and has seeped in the essence of Indian culture and customs.

She has personally lost much to Indian politics but upholds its premier political dynasty with dignity.

As a politicain and an activist against poverty, who can deny she is alive and aware of the country's pulse.

She is, at the least, more Indian than I am.

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If I were a man..

If I were a man, I would certainly go to hell.

Imagine a rugged cynic. A modern day mix of Rhett Butler and Casanova. A man who could be devilishly charming now and ruthlessly acrimonious the next minute.

A shameless gambler, an unrepentant hustler and a disreputable Romeo.

Drown my days in drink and stifle my senses with smoke.

Smug, sarcastic and salacious, a man inspiring grudging envy and scathing hate.

A man of ample means, no morals and even lesser friends.

And after my evil and decadent life and after having exulted in every minute, I would willingly descend into the Stygian abyss.

I wish I could be that rogue for a day. Just for a day, cast off my foolish feminine sentimentality and propriety.

Grab life by its horns and go for a rocking ride!

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Wise Men Say

My eyes continue to burn and one eye has intensified the protest with a dull ache to boost. I am feverish on and off but I feel so much better. I have a pretty vase of flowers on the table and a bit of dark chocolate next to me. Sometimes it takes so little to make one euphoric.
And in keeping with the mood, today's blog is a collection of my favourite lines from movies and television.
So here goes in no specific order -

Notting Hill

Martin: Did you know, and this is pretty amazing, but I once saw Ringo Starr.

William: Where was that?

Martin: Kensington High Street. At least I think it was Ringo, um, it could have been that guy from Fiddler on the Roof. You know, Toppy.

William: Topol.

Martin: Yes... yes that's right, Topol.

William: Mmmhmmm. Actually, Ringo Starr doesn't- doesn't at all look like, uh, Topol.

Martin: Yes, but, he was- he was quite a long way away from me.

William: So it actually could've been neither of them.

Martin: Yes, I suppose, so.

William: It's not really a classic, anecdote, is it?

Martin: Not a classic, no.



[who will get the last brownie?]
Anna Scott: Wait, what about me?

Max: Sorry, you think *you* deserve the brownie?

Anna Scott: Well a shot at it at least huh?

William: Well, you'll have to fight me for it, this is a very good brownie.

Anna Scott: I've been on a diet every day since I was nineteen, which basically means I've been hungry for a decade. I've had a series of not nice boyfriends, one of whom hit me. Ah, and every time I get my heart broken, the newspapers splash it about as though it's entertainment. And it's taken two rather painful operations to get me looking like this.

Honey: Really?

Anna Scott: Really. And, one day not long from now, my looks will go, they will discover I can't act and I will become some sad middle-aged woman who looks a bit like someone who was famous for a while.

Max: [long pause] Nah, nice try gorgeous, but you don't fool anyone.

William: Pathetic effort to hog the brownie.


Gone With The Wind
Scarlett: Rhett... if you go, where shall I go, what shall I do?
Rhett Butler: Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.

You've got mail

Joe Fox: The whole purpose of places like Starbucks is for people with no decision-making ability whatsoever to make six decisions just to buy one cup of coffee. Short, tall, light, dark, caf, decaf, low-fat, non-fat, etc. So people who don't know what the hell they're doing or who on earth they are can, for only $2.95, get not just a cup of coffee but an absolutely defining sense of self: Tall. Decaf. Cappuccino.

Boston Legal Denny Crane: I don't know whether you know this but not many men take the time, every day, to have a cigar, glass of scotch, to talk to their best friend. That's not something most men have.

Alan Shore: No it isn't.

Denny Crane: What I give to you, what I share, I do with no one else. I like to think that what you give to me you do with nobody else. Now that may sound silly to you. But here's what I think is silly, the idea that jealousy or fidelity is reserved for romance. I always suspected that there was a connection between you and that man. That you got something you didn't get from me.

Alan Shore: I probably do. But gosh, what I get from you Denny. People walk around today calling everyone their best friend. The term doesn't have any real meaning anymore. Mere acquaintances are lavished with hugs and kisses upon a second or at most third meeting, birthday cards get passed around offices so everybody can scribble a snippet of sentimentality for a colleague they barely met, and everyone just loves everyone. As a result when you tell somebody you love them today, it isn't much heard. I love you Denny, you are my best friend. I can't imagine going through life without you as my best friend. I'm not going to kiss you however.

"Friends"

Ross: I figured after work, I'd pick up a bottle of wine, go over there, and try to... woo her.
Chandler: Hey, you know what you should do? Take her back to the 1800's when that phrase was last used.


Ross: Wow, you guys sure have a lot of books about being a lesbian.
Susan: Well, you know, you have to take a course. Otherwise they don't let you do it.

Yes Prime Minister




Humphrey (about Hacker): He's got no. 10, a salary, a pension for life. What more can he want?
Bernard: I think he wants to govern Britain.
Humphrey: Well stop him, Bernard!

Jim: Humphrey, to what do we owe this pleasure?
Sir Humphrey: Prime Minister I must strongly protest in the strongest possible terms, my profound opposition to a newly instituted practise which imposes severe and intolerable restrictions upon the ingress and egress of senior members of the hierarchy and which will in all probability, should the current deplorable innovation be perpetuated, precipitate a constriction of the channels of communication and culminate in a condition of organisational atrophy and administrative paralysis which will render effectively impossible the coherent and coordinated discharge of the function of government within her Majesties United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.
Jim: You mean you've lost your key?



Sir Humphrey: Bernard, what is the purpose of out defence policy?
Bernard: To defend Britain.Sir
Humphrey: No Bernard, it is to make the people think that Britain is defended.
Bernard: The Russians?
Sir Humphrey: Not the Russians, the British, the Russians know it's not.


As Good As It Gets

Melvin Udall: I might be the only person on the face of the earth that knows you're the greatest woman on earth. I might be the only one who appreciates how amazing you are in every single thing that you do, and how you are with Spencer, "Spence," and in every single thought that you have, and how you say what you mean, and how you almost always mean something that's all about being straight and good. I think most people miss that about you, and I watch them, wondering how they can watch you bring their food, and clear their tables and never get that they just met the greatest woman alive. And the fact that I get it makes me feel good, about me.

Pride and Predjudice

Mrs. Bennet: Have you no consideration for my poor nerves?
Mr. Bennet: You mistake me, my dear. I have the utmost respect for your nerves. They've been my constant companion these twenty years.



Elizabeth Bennet: You're mistaken, Mr. Darcy. The mode of your declaration merely spared me any concern I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner. You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it. From the very beginning your manners impressed me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit and your selfish disdain for the feelings of others. I had not known you a month before I felt you were the last man in the world whom I could ever marry!
Emma
Emma: I may have lost my heart, but not my self-control.
Emma Woodhouse: How fascinating that any discordancy between us must always arise from *my* being wrong.
Mr. Knightley: Not fascinating, but true.
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Checkpoint

26th January.

A significant day for me and for a billion Indians.

Today marks 60 years as a Republic and 6 years of marriage.

And the first writer's block I have had since I started blogging.

My eyes burn and head aches as I offer this inept post as an ode to the day.

_

Star-crossed

They sat on the hard ground, shoulders touching , arms hugging the knees and calves bumping shyly ..slyly.Facing the waters growing darker as the city lights fell in place one by one joining the neon dance. Each a bright speck on the dark canvass lapping at their heels.

The breeze carried the distant sounds of the music from the band playing in the park behind. Around them zoomed kids on skates and dogs on a brisk walk trailed by their owners . But the sights were unseen and the sounds unheard as they sat enveloped in intimate silence. Silence broken occasionally to share a dream never told before, a regret never confessed before. Minutes and hours slipped by unknown and unheeded. The moments binding them irrevocably. Strings that would strangle the heart for ever after.

They held hands, fingers intertwined and tracing imaginary patters on the soft skin.

A couple of hours pass. Was it really that long?

They get up - mind and heart growing heavy with a familiar tightness. He looks on as she leaves with slow steps and shining eyes. She looks back a second too late. He has turned back in a deliberate retreat into the darkness.

_

Dinner tonight!

So I am not a food blogger. And not really a whizz in the kitchen . On my best day I can maybe rustle up a couple of things that can make people hum appreciatively.

But an over dosage of Jamie Oliver and Nigella has me experimenting much more than I should.

And trial and error made me hit on this deliciously simple plate of grilled veggies.

Roughly chop pumpkins brinjals sweet potatoes , apricots and rub a mix of pepper , olive oil , salt and any other spices you care for. Toss on a pan, cover with silver foil and come back to it after an episode of sex and the city.

Slip off the foil and tumble the grilled fare onto a plate.

Now , there is likely to be some grilled burnt bits stuck to the pan. Splash in water , few caps full of wine, a stock cube , some butter and mustard. I had some left-over chicken pieces in the fridge (thats the ghostly white stuff in the picture) .

Add that to the sauce and heat some more.

Pour all over the vegetables and that is what's for dinner tonight.

_

Growing yellow and mellow

When I was a little girl my parents used to drop me off for guitar classes twice a week. The class used to go on for a couple of hours by the end of which my father would be waiting outside for me.

The room had glass doors so towards the end of the session I used to start watching out for Dadu. Once in a while he used to be late and each time that happened tears used to well up in my eyes and stream silently down even as I continued practicing the scales.

And on some days, I’d keep crying silently even after he had arrived and was standing outside the door chatting with my teacher. I was such a silly five year old !

Today , as I waited on and on for a phone call fighting back the tears, it felt much the same way. And finally when the call never came and I dashed into the restroom to shield my shame I realized I was behaving like that child again. The child that kept crying until someone comforted her. And here is the lesson that I keep forgetting. Back then, not once did Dadu fail to show up. But once you are grown-up, you have only yourself to count on.
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