Tag: humour

….For the love of a book

It’s been a hectic month so far! Lots have been happening…. I had been sitting on my third book for the last (which I must say has been topsy turvy!) year. I don’t want to go into details but safe to say that I have not stayed at home for a month at a stretch. Either I have been traveling to other cities or the hospital!

Well, I decided enough is enough and proceeded with my publisher to publish the book. “Weave Some More” my latest novel, has literally woven webs of confusion, distractions, and plenty of new learnings.

I learned how important it was to advertise the book, I also learned that I need to join like-minded groups, and also to keep my ear to the ground to hear the rumblings about the book.

Though I have used Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and LinkedIn to let the world know about the birth of my books, I have not used it methodically (So my publisher says). So I put myself into their expert hands to do the serious work and continued my amateur bumbling on Social Media!

I was soon flooded with a lot of requests from many groups who wanted to follow me or talk about my book or my writing process. It was flattering, to say the least, but it was a lot of work, nevertheless. One more pleasant surprise was how many of them wrote their own interpretations of the book and posted them on different platforms. I am grateful.

Facebook was filled with congratulatory messages from many of my friends and relatives. But I wonder how many of them did read the book. The best compliment a writer ever gets is when he realizes that his book has been read and critiqued (even if it is a bad one!) I am extremely grateful to the handful who made it a point to message me with their thoughts or wrote reviews on various platforms.

I do realize that in this day of the internet and video world, very few have the interest or the inclination to actually read a three-hundred-page book. Being a book lover I do not understand this trend, but then each to his own.

A book is like a living creature. Every time you read it, it throws out new ideas, nuances, and visions. A couple of people argue that what do we need with them? After all the internet is teeming with ideas and entertainment; why go through the pain of reading, exploring, and using your “noodle” to wallow in the pleasure of reading, processing, and creating your own world?

I have no arguments for or against the above theories. Only a book lover can really ‘feel’ the pleasure that seeps through him when he uses a writer’s words to create and travel through a world. The underlined word is ‘create’. It is true that the writer has created a world with his words but your vision of it is your own creation and thus you own it.

Whoever has the time to read this, please do answer the question, “which other entertainment path allows you to create and find fulfillment and gives you ownership of your reactions and emotions?

Never got the GOT!






The other day I saw a post on Facebook which said that ‘if you have never watched a single episode of The Game of Thrones than click on the link below’.


“Should I click on it”, I wondered. I recently found out that GOT was first aired in 2010, so I looked back at my 2010; it had been an exciting year for me, but I do not remember hearing about this series. My children were then teenagers and they should have told me about it (I must remember to ask them whether they did let me know). The first that I became conscious of it was in 2013 when my then ‘terrible teenager’ would slouch on the sofa and stream it online on her laptop.


 I would sometime peep over her shoulder and see a lot of black, brown and blue graphics, so I never was interested! (I love the colourful ‘Rangeela” kind of pictures!). Once in a while I heard the sisters discussing it over the phone. I am not a suspicious mother, but what struck me every time they spoke was whether somebody would die. This further distanced me from even attempting to see one episode!


I have plenty of people on Facebook who love to discuss the GOT and obviously I skip over these posts. As I have a husband who is the least interested in TV serials, I did not get any knowledge from him either. The doctor in the family is very kind to me; she specifically informs me about new TV serials, the trending things on youtube videos, the latest Netflix and Prime video offerings. So I don’t feel too left out by the millennial generation. But she never discussed this with me either. I was sometimes tempted to start seeing it but all the comments regarding the episodes pulled me back .


As the younger one (TT) left her teens she continued to watch this and discuss this with her sister but neither of them attempted to persuade me to do so. In fact I remember clearly that one or both of them made me watch “Stranger Things”. This was also an uncomfortable serial with a lot of blue, black and brown colours, filled with eerie and strange things but I watched both seasons. I was under extreme discomfort, but I was fascinated by it and in my own way, loved it (I remember binge watching it too!).


Fantasy is fascinating for me; I love magic and ‘other dimensional’ narratives, hence an obsession with the Harry Potter series. Why then did I not get the GOT? Frankly I have no answer. Maybe it was the whispers about sex and violence and the mandatory death after each episode which put me off. Could be that I love to relax when I watch a movies and silent murmurs told me otherwise. Possibility of age catching up was also there (though I believe that a majority of the fans are as old if not older than me).

I believe the last season is just over and that is what made me curious about it. I, of course went to my favourite library “Google” and did a little reading. I was surprised to find that it had won a number of awards. Maybe another reason why I did not sidle into watching it! I very adroitly avoid watching Award winning movies ( I can see the eyebrows reaching the ceilings by now!). I also believe that it has a humongous cast which again could confuse my little brain!

Many of my friends do doubt my sensibilities when it comes to movies! Once I had praised a movie sky-high; the hounding response I got for my admiration, put me off ever trying to write a movie review!

So here I am feeling a little lost and talking about The GOT without having watched even half an episode! I do not understand the hoo-hah over it and do not even want to. Does that make me passé?

You tell me! I have stopped watching Hindi TV serials for the last ten years, so I am a misfit when I go to parties, specially the Ladies ones; now I will certainly be an oddity in any kind of gathering as I do not have an iota of information to contribute to  a discussion on the GOT!

Where have all the colours gone?






Having been a Jeans and t-shirt person all through my young life, I had gone berserk in the year after I got married. I wore all the feminine Indian clothes- brightly coloured with matching jewellery and bangles to boot! And Boy! Had I enjoyed myself! Green, purple, orange all the possible loud colours had suddenly become my favourite. Of course over the years I have mellowed and refrain from wearing too bright a colour. But give me a chance (A wedding or a festival) I am back, wallowing in the multiple hues of life.

“Hey! Isn’t that a lovely shade of black”, said the twenty something to her pal beside her.
“That’s good”, agreed the pal, “but you should have seen the black Sheena was wearing yesterday! it was to die for”.

These days I am like R.K.Laxman’s “Common man”, I am here , there and everywhere with a bag over my shoulder; a very silent spectator of the drama of life. If I could draw, I would be another famous cartoonist.


Listening to the above conversation, I wondered what were the shades of black? Of course I had heard of this book called the “Fifty shades of grey” but shades of black was what I had not heard of. When in doubt Google is my mantra. Sure enough Wikipedia had seventeen different shades of black listed!

For a change I tried to be “in the moment” and started looking around and noticing all the young people who  were crowded in and outside the fast food restaurant, smoking, having tea or coffee or some junk food or the other. The young men (I was pleasantly surprised) were quite nattily dressed and most of them looked healthy and well built (the gym effect?) The girls were a different story, fifty percent of them were overweight, the other fifty percent were a mixture of toned bodies, normal bodies, anorexic bodies and normal skinny ones.


Whether it was “the black conversation” I overheard or the general gloominess in the political scenario, I saw that the bottom half of  all the girls were black. Most of them wore black leggings, some wore the very popular jeggings, many had on the formal trousers (There are many offices in the vicinity) and a miniscule few had churidars on.  So if you were to be polite and not stare, you would focus on the bottom half, right? Well there was a virtual sea of black, weaving in and out on the grey asphalt! I must have seen this before, but I had never been conscious of this fact.

Can you picture what I saw? Black sea with smoke rising from within it! The smoke could be the cigarettes or from the steaming cups of tea and coffee. Whatever it was, my world looked a little drab and forlorn. As I swept my eyes surreptitiously from ground zero to an altitude of five feet plus, I noticed the tops were either different shades of white( Check it out on google) or blue or pink. Where I wondered had the greens, purples, oranges or even the  bright yellow gone?
I did not look at the men, they anyway never had a great colour palette, it was the girls I was inspecting. Where had all the feminine love for bright hues gone? Why were they all following a uniform code of conduct for dressing? Agreed black makes you look slimmer, so I understood the penchant for bottom halves being black but what about the top half? Don’t we women always want to stand out? Be different from the others? Why if a film actress wears a dress which is even two percent similar to another actress’s dress the tabloids go crazy putting up the two pictures and pointing out the similarities! Fortunately I have cut off our cable Television otherwise all the news channels would be airing the same picture again and again!
Now that I had become conscious of the new fad, my eyes went on searching for a different picture in various backgrounds. The next time I went to the Mall I looked discerningly at the crowd. In the food court it was all dark under the table! I also noticed that three new brands of leggings had set up shop in different parts of the mall.

Out of curiosity I went into my favourite one “Go Colours” and asked them what colour had the highest sale. The answer was not much of a surprise- it was black of course! I then asked them about the different shades of black and they were very aware of it. (I felt such a dodo!)
“Why do you have such a wonderful display of rainbow colour leggings, jeggings and what not?”, I asked inquisitively.
The salesman had the patience of a saint, he said, “That is for display, it attracts customers”.
“But there are very few blacks?”, I objected.
“Madam we have a store room at the back filled with them. They do not look good on display, so we do not put them out”, the salesman said dismissively.
Having learnt a valuable lesson, I realised that even though the world is turning into a colourless graveyard, the human mind is still alive. Why do I say that? Well as long as the hoardings and displays depend on colours to attract customers then all is right with the world and God is in his heaven.
Maybe this is just a phase and my colours will creep back into the world like a time lapse picture of winter turning to spring!

Till it does will anyone answer my question- Where have all the colours gone?

The Grey Cover!


The greys have been peeping into my silhouette for quite some time. When they first appeared I use to pluck them off (pacified my heart by saying – all that stress!) soon they started showing on the side burns and temples (I can’t be that old!). it wasn’t long before my stylist, very timidly suggested that I could colour my hair. She went into raptures about how the hair would glow and thicken and become healthy. The first time I brushed away her suggestion. A month of vitamin capsules, regular oiling of the hair with judicious plucking would solve the problem or so I thought!
Soon I was pouring over leaflets and books about how to colour. Which was the best brand? Should I just pick up one off the shelf?  After a lot of Hamletian metaphysical self-questioning I bought one at the super market and secretly coloured my hair. No one was told about it. The hair did glow and it looked lovely. I took all the compliments and gave the credits to the vitamins which I had since stopped consuming!
Months passed and my stylist said I should do “a global” as the hair was looking “patchy “and ‘translucent”. By then I was tired of trying to cover my grey secretly.  Imagine having to wait till no one was in the house for at least two hours and then apply it in the bathroom, clean up the mess etc. it was easier at the parlour! So the job migration took place. Though it was a little heavy on my pocket, it took away a lot of my worry. It was timed with my haircut so my secret remained safe!
Years later when I was comfortable with my age, I allowed this secret to be out in the open. By now it was cool to colour, so I tried all sort of different colours and stopped using dark brown. Graduating to using streaks took some more time and the I went all out with blonde, bronze, brown and red streaks. I remember how excited I was. My poor husband did not know what to say! Knowing that the deed was done he complimented me. In my euphoria I never saw the wince in his eyes. The children were also diplomatic and all was fine in my paradise. Since then I have been informed by the lord and master that I looked like a lioness (due to the frizziness caused by bleaching my hair!)
I have been at home for the last two months- not travelling that is. The greys had started creeping up everywhere, I kept postponing the ritual. At a certain level, I thought, I looked kind of distinguished so I deferred it further. Having religiously treated my hair for so many years I had not realized the extent of my greyness! Suddenly I realized that my mind was still twenty but my hair was…. Well you know. I felt depressed, haggard and vulnerable (don’t ask me about vulnerability!) I peered into the mirror and saw a patchy grey haired middle aged woman with dull and spotty skin!
Enough was enough! I made an appointment with my stylist and sailed there with all my usual confidence. She of course ‘tched’ with all her might and said “Global”.

“Yes of course!”, I concurred

For the next two hours I was pampered. Line by line of my hair was taken and tinted. I was then asked to wait for thirty-five minutes, which I did with further pampering – pedicure and manicure!

While I sipped my coffee, I noticed a grey haired man sit down under the guidance of another stylist. He had pepper and salt hair and looked quite handsome in spite of them. “Around forty”, I guessed as I peeped at him. He looked very uncomfortable. The stylist hovered around him with the usual “Can I get you something?” and “what would you like to do today, sir?”
“Well”, a very long drawn out weeeeell, “Actually I would like to colour my hair” still hot under the collar our gentleman.
The catalogue was brought out, while I mused ‘how unfair that men looked good with grey hair’. I could see he was thoroughly confused with all the choice the young girl was pointing out to him.

“Actually can you make it look like my original colour?”

The girl decided that here was no adventurous man and asked, “Black?”

“Black?”, he said that a little loudly

“Papa! Not black, it looks artificial”

I then noticed a young lady having her pedicure done at the chair. She was definitely in her mid-twenties.

All my theories fell flat! This man couldn’t be forty unless he had her at fifteen!

“You see my daughter’s wedding is in two days and she wants me to do this!”

Look of understanding dawned on the stylists face and she took the catalogue to the daughter to choose. As they discussed over bronze brown or reddish brown, the man looked at his nails and allowed someone to trim his hair, over the daughter’s “Not too short please!”
It was a kind of quaint experience for me. I am so used to seeing mother-daughter duos in the parlour that to see this father- daughter together was refreshing. The world and society is changing for the better. I had a wonderful father who was always upbraided by my grandmother for treating us like his friends. I see my daughters also have a great father who treats them as equals and here I was seeing this cameo.

I came out – a glossy haired, bright faced young woman- rejuvenated both in mind and body.