Friendzoned- half girlfriend!

Half Girlfriend

The name itself is catchy and its trending plus the jokes being made on the name and its meanings. I read the name and as always wanted to know more about the book, being a bookaholic these thing s come naturally. And, yes pre –ordered it thanks to the amazing Flip kart. But, its been disturbing me since yesterday.

It’s about the rich lass from Delhi meeting a poor not so fluent in English boy from Bihar and then she agrees to be his half girlfriend! I know it will be an interesting read with his Chetan Bhagat’s unique style, his clear concise reflection on today’s society. But as a mother I find it bizarre.

Already the world has gotten compartmentalized into face book friends, whatsapp group, we chat buddies, and the latest snapchat craze along with instagram followers. On top of this s, he throws a googly at us poor mothers, half girlfriend. A mother of two boys, I wonder what will be the next term coined by the authors.

The pressure to be socially acceptable, to be with it and to have it all and to be successful and to be cool is immense. The number of times, I have been told to relax, to chill and not to take tension is uncountable. Chilling by the way is not the term we grew up with ‘ to lower the temperature and to cool the product. Here it means to take a chill pill and to leave them alone! I am actually living in sub- arctic temperature zone with them around.

Everyday , teaching the underprivileged kids, I try in a small way to bridge the gap between the have and havenots, religion  and the numerous lines we are divided into. Did you know, a balmiki cannot sit with an adharmi , a khatri sikh cannot sit with the balmiki and the adharmis. The Jat Sikhs they are superior to others, the kids from Bihar and UP don’t sit with each other , further away and mind you they all think they are one up on each other . Who taught them all this? Where one should be learning science, and brushing up maths , they worry more about castes and where not to sit . After, a long time they sit together and now in six months they will earn a new word’ half girlfriend’ thanks to a bolly wood movie made on this name. just imagine knowing English and being fluent in it will be the passport to having a full girlfriend.

The burden of a full girlfriend and the criteria thereof is increasing. I think , instead of degrees, boys should enroll in English speaking classes as that is the new divide of the caste barrier ! Even the cricket umpires have been directed to speak in English and with the UPSC aspirants also in arms in or against Englsih , I wonder if the hangover of the Colonials is emerging again. Till then, in sylvan rustic village of Punjab, I am safe .

Peepli Live in Jalandhar Punjabi Style

We had a Peepli Live at our village yesterday. People think of stories and make revolutionary path breaking movies to enthrall us. Imagine what happened at my little hamlet. We are basically a small agricultural village sustained by a lot of migrant labor from Bihar, UP, as is the case with the rest of Punjab. Sadly, the “Bhaiya” who is indispensable and speaks Punjabi with a unique twist replaces the Punjabi farmer!

Uma Kant Chaubey ji our night watch man sold off his cow, for a good amount and repaid off his debts. Life for them is cyclical, they borrow, get indebted to Bhaji (the Punjabi landlord) sell some possession, repay and then borrow more and get stuck again in! It’s cyclical. Well, Uma Kant sold his cow and got a fat sum of money from which the Bhaji deleted his owed sum and the rest was given back to him.

Uma Kant was rich, very rich and he gave his wife the rest of the money for safekeeping. He had to again go back to his work, you see. His wife, a simpleton, kept it in the pocket and went visiting to the other families to show off and to tell about her elevated status! It was a matter of pride and it showed their rank had increased. They could maybe afford a cooler and she might sneak in a new sari and the rest well, she would put away for the rainy day.

Poor thing, she came back and went to cook and got busy with her chores. She was cooking a special tadka dal for him with better quality rice kept only for important guests. Uma Kant came back, late and asked for the money.

And, the money was missing. An ugly domestic spat happened, abuses, a lot of wife beating, swollen face, knee and a bruised body, but no money and no answer from Mrs. Chaubey.

The next morning, another fellow laborer told him about this soothsayer who could predict from the tikka on the thumb (black ash) and would tell who the thief was and only for Rs 200.

This sooth sayer is very popular and is a young man, he checks from the ash on his thumb and magic the culprit appears.

This sounds exaggerated, and farfetched, but I know for sure that in my little pind lies the next Hindi potboiler or maybe the next Ekta Kapoor soap! I know you’re going to laugh but I think I might make my millions through this story pitch rather than farming that loses money by the second.

Punjab 1984

Eons and eons have been written and more shall be written till may be history and Man lays rest to one the most horrific incidents of recent times in India. I don’t knowhow to term it but yesterday watching a film directed by Anurag Singh made me rethink the time when I as a ten year old was asked to suddenly move to Chandigarh, as it was relatively safe. We were asked overnight to wear salwar suits as it made us blend in and not be conspicuous and to a ten year old girl it all seemed alien; except that school was shut and a whole lot of summer time was available.

However, the subject of the movie is 1984, Punjab and how an uprising made some martyrs, some fortunes and how misfortune descended on mothers, fathers, families were destroyed just because they were Sikhs and even Hindus were not spared.

The real villain of the piece is always the politician who kills, murders, inspires, instigates innocent mind to mayhem, chaos, kill, to kill innocent bystanders who are just numbers – his vote. The mother of the protagonist played by Kirron Kher is par excellence, her nuances of a broken mother who lives for her son is mesmerizing. One cries with her, smiles at her motherly instincts, laughs at her scolding’s, why because that’s what mothers are made of … I identify with her anguish, her spirit to search every day for her lost son, to hear just once that he is all right, to look at him once with her failing eyes, her spirit that remains strong , unbroken .

Diljit Dosanjh , is wonderful  , a brilliant portrayal of a youth whose life goes wrong not because of the  so called ‘ cause of Inquilaab but due to family feud over land; the curse of us Punjabis.

I was apprehensive before the release thinking that it would leave an impression , would again rekindle Khalistan and those dark days; and I was so wrong. It was again a self preservation instinct kicking in to save my children from being influenced not realizing that we need them to know , to  grow stronger, dig deeper roots and to learn from the lessons of the past . why be so fickle and weak to think a work of art would make us jump into the cauldron of revolution again ?The times of Bhagat Singh and Sukhdev are gone when people lived for others, were selfless, where blood was red and not divided by caste, religion , creed . Punjab, needs to reclaim it self from the shackles of drug, caste war and to reclaim its glory .  And, no one from outside is going to save us , not on face book, or on virtual media, or on television , or on those senseless debates , what we need is a collective on the ground change, together .

Aur , Ab

It was #late One Night when Lovely finally called Nitu and told her that it was time they decide whether they should take it step forward. Either they needed to take it to the next level to marriage or forget being friends.

Why dilly dally?And keep on delaying the inevitable. One way or the other they had to move on. He was ready for compromise to settle for companionship and to build a life. Face it , romance, building castles in the air for the youth , he needed to be practical as he had been all his life. Nitu , picked up his cell and said , Ji lets meet tomorrow for coffee at 11am at café Kudrat .It was going to be along night . She knew she want getting any younger and any knight in shining armour was not going to sweep her off her feet. I mean she had a long order but want that stuff for dreams. She needed love, romance, candlestine meetings, kisses, necking ,sex and she wanted the sanctity of marriage. Well, the  romance would come with the shackles of marriage and Lovely didn’t seem so bad.

After , a long talk with Imran the closet friend who dare not come out because of fear society an dits repressive attitude , she knew now the tough life he had and what a genuine guy Lovely is. We all have our crosses to bear and sometimes just flinging yourself in the river made one swim the current.

Next morning, she dressed with extra care , brushing the hair till it shone , and according to her whatsaap gang she wore it one side and the new lenses plus the kajal was worked in with perfection. In fact , a motto for today was keep the eyeliner neat and the chai sweet. She wore a lovely crisp chikankari suit and wore those lovely silver baalis.  She really now felt a candidate on marriage mart! On the other side of twon ,Lovley wore his favorite white linen shirt and  his jeans and his fav chappals. If she liked him and accepted him she would do with the whole package. He was tired of putting up a pseudo front.

They met at the café . The name itself was a strong indicator of the times to come and lives to be carved.

I like your honesty and your will to succeed, would you let me work ? Nitu asked.

Sure, that’s easy . Would you be my friend, companion, walk with me through the open skies, rainy days , in the moon light, listen to crazy music, dance for no reason ,eat fried noodles, golgappas, cry at soppy love stories and hold my hand? I cant quote faiz, kafka, or Gibran.. All I can give you is me , and to never make you cry and most importantly hug you till you the tears go and peace comes. He said.

She knew , she was his for life.

Part 3

They both sat opposite as if they were old warring countries; not ready to relent, one bit. They didn’t smile, budge or even smirk. It was a contest to see who would blink first. And, then they cleared their throat at the same time.

Everyone started laughing and Khan Sahib, the mamaji by emotions and not by blood said Baat kariye. An anglophile who was somewhat lost between the beauty and romance of the English writers and the old age romance and seductive hold of Urdu. He was a bachelor, a behind the scenes mamaji but someone who had every say in whatever was happening in the house hold. He seemed to materialize whenever anything important was going to happen; it was as if he had extra honing radar!

Lovely and Nitu looked at each other, and then he asked her what were her interests? He sounded like a duh even to his own ears but what should he ask this sadu ladki who looked as if she had beaten and made to sit here in someone’s 1960 vintage clothes. She gave a one word answer, reading.

That was the end. She thought how could she escape and then Bhaiya said, why don’t you take her for a drive? We will have tea when you come back.

OMG, this was worse than any C grade movie, it was so blatant and in the face.

He got up and said, Chalo . She got up and gave such a dirty look to Bhaiya and mamaji and started walking out wondering how she was going to escape him and his mooch.

The understated navy blue BMW was cool, she thought. And when he opened the door for her, he scored a point.

Then they started for their drive and there was silence. It was so quiet in the car, she could sense the silence. She wondered if she should give in to this arranged marriage and then discover love or a lifetime of misery. Should she assert her feminism and wait for love to open the door for her? Should she wait for some lawyer who would match her skills but would be a complete no –no?

Lovely wondered whether he should settle for her, this sadu, depressing brown spectacled woman who sat defiantly but was sitting like a mouse clothed in a tiger’s clothing!

What did kismet have in store for them?