Kids' music: Is There Such A Thing?!

.Scene 1. I was doing something in the kitchen of my first floor apartment in Delhi, when I heard a group of little girls (in the age group of 5-6 years i guessed) singing 'chikni chameli' downstairs, possibly they were dancing also, their sweet voices totally off key, completely immersed in this activity, with nothing whatsoever to do with the world. An unintentional smile crossed my face. I remembered how we as little schoolgirls used to present 'ek-do-teen' or 'nau nau choodiyan' whenever the opportunity came. I am absolutely sure that they did not understand the literal or otherwise meaning of the song. They also did not know what 'Pauwa' means or what are the implications of coming alone, stealthily. They were only spilling out the words with great enthusiasm, oblivious to the fact that adults were listening from windows above and drawing meanings, other than the little girls intended to.

Scene 2. Years ago, I went to this hip-hop dance class held in my office in Hyderabad, where one of my senior colleagues used to come with his wife and two preteen kids. As the trainer switched on the music on the first day, and the song blared across the hall ' I wanna f*** you', the colleague's wife mouthed a big 'no' with a crinkled forehead, but rest of us were already taking positions, trying to gyrate like the trainer from Shiamak Davar academy. I do not know what the family did, as I had to discontinue the classes for some reason. The trainer, however stuck to this song for the final performance as I came to know from my colleagues later.

Scene 3.  Last week, on the dance floor of a party, I stopped dancing suddenly and looked around at the crowd going crazy, which was a mix of young and old alike. What stopped me? The lyrics of the song which first appealed to children by saying 'I am a Superman' and then suddenly descended to the level where the protagonist claimed 'kar dunga maa-behen'. 'Is it only me?' was my precise thought, because no one seemed to care, and from toddlers who had just learnt to walk, to officers on the verge of retirement, everybody was busy dancing. While I was standing there, in the middle of the dance floor, like a dead duck in thunderstorm, wondering what is wrong with everybody's ears! Read more on World of Moms...

In The Land Of Sand

After celebrating our birthdays, Coco and I went on a trip to Bikaner, Rajasthan, with his dad and a rather large group of friends and colleagues. And the fact that our birthday post was incredibly late is because we left for Bikaner while we were still celebrating. Though I mentioned my trip earlier, I managed to put off telling more about my trip. And that is not forgivable because Rajasthan is my first love.

So, while we were in Bikaner, us girls utilized our time well in shopping. I have plenty of 'Bandhej' and 'Leheriya' sarees, which I had collected during my two year stay in Jodhpur after my marriage. So, while other ladies shopped for these, I reminisced my sweet memories of Jodhpur.

During our multiple visits to multiple shops in famous Ganpati Plaza and Labhuji Ka Katla, we sank into an assortment of heirloom fabrics like Kota cottons and Sanganeri prints among others. We already had long shopping lists from friends back home, primarily for sarees and suit material. The shopkeepers had a tough time keeping track of who bought what above our chaotic and noisy chit-chat, clicking of pictures and sending them to friends and family for approval.

I was chiefly looking for printed tablecloths and bedsheets among other things and bought loads of them to my heart's content. It has been quite some time after we left Jodhpur and its treasures (read fabrics), and the stuff that we had from there is kind of wearing out already. So, my home was in the dire need of the above sheets and covers. 

The above brass doorbell and Old Monk jug were bought from AWWA Sajni shop in Bikaner Cantt, on the last leg of my shopping after I had already crossed my budget, and they have been good conversation pieces at home, at least the jug. As a result of all this shopping, the bags that were half empty while we were going, were now bursting apart at seams with all the load. Daily when I came back from shopping, my husband would click a picture of me entering the room with all my shopping bags, balancing their weight on my arms, elbows, wrists and even fingers. But these jokes were all taken well because at the end of it all, my home looks prettier.

Happy Diwali!

Of the five Diwalis after my marriage, this one was only the first time that we three were together, Coco, his father and I. It had to be special. I remembered what I used to do on Diwali during my college days. I would spend the entire day decorating the house with flowers and making rangoli. These used to be two of my favorite activities on the festival of lights, which actually gave me the feel of the festival, apart from my mom's Dahi-vada. Somehow, I could not carry on both these practices for various reasons after I left home.

Celebrating this Diwali as a family of three, I chose to do what was closest to my heart, but in a much more organised(read scopeful of being lazy) manner. I asked my husband to bring marigold garlands and left him to decorate them as he pleased. That is one major task done! Without even moving a finger. I love delegating tasks suddenly. And I love my husband :)   

Then , I dedicated myself to making rangoli, with colored semolina (sooji), which was also coloured by yours truly the previous night, while preparing Dahi Vadas and Gulabjamuns on special demand. :) (I am not so lazy, people!) With most of the cooking out of the way, this day was carefully kept aside for decorating garlands and making rangolis etc. so that we could enjoy everything about the festival without being too rushed. And I must admit that the task of making rangolis is not only enjoyable, it makes you proud at the end of it too. 

See what I mean? I have captured a picture of this rangoli from every angle possible, feeling better at every shot. A sense of relief, calmness and happiness, all come together and envelope me.

 And this is the bigger picture, which shows where actually was this small semi circle of colored sooji present on my veranda. (Those spears have a long story. Some other day!!) And you can very well sample the fine work that my husband did with those flowers. ;) Earthen lamps were placed on the rangoli in the evening after Laxmi-pooja duly and happily, though we were getting terribly late for our social gathering. 

 And this is something that was lying as an empty rum bottle behind the dustbin in my kitchen for a couple of months. Then it spent a few days on my craft-counter, among paintbrushes and colours. Their company surely transformed its personality but on Diwali day, it took 5 minutes and a fairy light string to further transform it into this glamorous lamp, suitably lighting up a dark corner.

It was intensely gratifying to see how I could give shape to my own celebrations with gentle touches of colour and creativity. I am happily skipping like a little girl, standing on the threshold of the main door, craning out to see the rangoli, then peeking back in to see the bottle-lamp, now rangoli, now lamp and again...yayyy!! 

Oh, I remember, there is one more bottle lying in my kitchen, this time donated mindfully by my dear husband, after he witnessed what I could do with rum bottles, er.. empty ones I mean!   

It is amazing how small things are capable of providing such great happiness. One only needs to find the right thing. Small enough!

Coming Home To Bliss

This place is crowded and chaotic. It is not even close to the elegance and charm that I witnessed during my week away on a trip. While I don't like the fact that the fun-filled week away from home is over, I feel hugely relieved to be back home, for the familiar roads and noises, sights and smells. 

This time we visited the sand dunes of Royal Rajasthan, a place which is beautiful and splendid, a place where I first set up home after marriage, and truly lived and loved my life. A place which occupies a little corner in my house, a good share in my wardrobe and a whole chamber of my heart. 

                                         

Though this vacation was really good, coming home was really soothing. The greenery around and the clouds looked a little shocking after a week of sun-burnt trips to the grand palaces, dusty bazaars and barren sand dunes. But coming home has its own comforts. I do not think that anyone on this planet can deny that coming home is the best feeling.

Though there is a lot of mess around which needs to be taken care of at home, its still full of warmth and happiness. A relaxed and rejuvenated me is taking note of everything that needs to be done while basking in the glory of all the shopping that I did in Bikaner to extend my Royal Rajasthan collection. 

                                         
What are you thinking? Nah, I didn't buy the above Bandhej saree, but it is just a glimpse of all the colour and beauty, and some more, that I saw when I went shopping with my lady friends. Could a girl find better reasons to be happy?!!

Ye Saali Gaali...

How many 'Gaalis' (Expletives, abuses) do you know? What do they mean? How many of them do not speak about a woman's dignity (or lack of it)? Do you think you ever mean what you say in a gaali?

Many years ago, while we were enjoying the new freedom of  a job after studies, I used to be the flatmate of a girl who started taking pride in using abuses while talking, courtesy her new friends at work. Accustomed to the much polite Lucknowi Tehzeeb(?), I used to cringe listening to her gaalis in brash Punjabi style, which were more derogatory and hurtful to her own kind (i.e. women) rather than being amusing and uplifting. The girl refused to let go of her gaalis as she thought they made her sound cool. NOT!

Of late, Hindi movies have glorified gaalis via movies like Ishqiya and Delhi Belly. Sadly, expletives are actually ingrained in daily lingo of UP (The land of Lucknowi Tehzeeb) and Bihar as the writers/directors of these movies claim. Here, gaalis are so much a part of the tongue that two fast friends cannot meet without  addressing each other as 'Saale' which sounds casual and harmless, (but is it?).  We even have Gaali songs in weddings and other functions, and they are pure pornography in lyrics, potent enough to make one's ears bleed, mind it!

The structure and nomenclature of Hindi gaalis is such that they are almost always directed at an innocent, unsuspecting mother or sister somewhere. Gaalis from foreign lands, when used in India, become insipid in comparison to our desi abuses. Imagine calling someone an 'asshole' in Hindi. Would it be as effective and satisfying as a Hindi gaali of the nature of 'mother-sister'? Some people use one or two 'mother-sister' type abuses in every sentence that they speak. They are not bad people. I have personally heard them dish out such smelly, vulgar words without ever giving it a thought. More careful and sophisticated people avoid using expletives in front of women, but among men, they are all the same. Someone in this category, once uttered out a gaali in front of me, and as soon as he realized, he said ' Oh, so sorry!'.

The most cultured, educated men do not refrain from dishing out choicest gaalis once the matter comes to it. I am yet to come across a man who claims otherwise. What is it that urges someone to use gaalis of this nature? Is it the helplessness of not being able to harm the other person physically or in any other way that a word picture of the possible harm is created? Is it about harming a person or a woman (Mother/Sister/Daughter of the person)? Why does a person need to use crude language in order to fight? How does it help? How does committing an act of sexual nature against someone's mother or sister compensate for the loss/ harm/suffering of the abuser?  Are we not propagating 'Rape Culture'? After all, words become thoughts and thoughts become actions.

Its been probably centuries since women have been targeted in this indirect way. Is this the prize that we receive for being a good sister/mother/daughter? The icing on the cake is that we cannot even vent out our frustration by hurling a gaali because it will most likely boomerang.