Wax 'em!

Get two women together, and either they will be an an instant hit or they will explode!

So, if they click then here are some of the 'hottest' topics of discussion, ahem! (Spare me gals)

• Boyfriends, or hubbies!
• Shopping!
• Waxing, ah well, any beauty-related stuff!

Often the top two also figure out in my top favorites, there speaks-up the gal in me! But the third definitely puts me at an unrest. Wax 'em, why? C'mon ppl, its normal, and its hormonal. Worse, others around tend to be more conscious, watchful, mindful, and remind-ful of your waxing, threading, and blah blah. C'mon ppl, its normal, and its hormonal.

Beautification is a personal choice, and not a necessity! If you choose to beautify, you should be welcome; but if you choose not to, its nobody's business, so nobody should give a damn or care about it! And none, what-so-ever, can form any opinion of you based upon your choice to or not to wax, thread, blah blah. To me, its more like being comfortable with who you are, what you are!

- A Feminist :)

The Orgasm Lane!

Call it the overtaking lane, the speeding lane, or simply the right lane, for really there is no specific name for it in India. And it’s amusing how the Indian guys just vie and vow to stick to it. But ‘why’ - an obvious question! Ah well, it sure must be the orgasm lane. Ahem. No points for guessing. So guys, c'mon, contend and contest, pull to the right, and sense the sensational orgasm.

However, I must confess that even I am guilty of this perpetual tendency to keep to the right, besides being an inadvertent spectator. Orgasm or no-orgasm, I subconsciously pull to the right to experience the euphoria. Jokes apart, I tried to discover and pen down my raison d'être for feeling safer in the right-est lane, an out of the 'so-Western' world feeling.

1) Lack of infrastructure for pedestrians, or the poor Walkability Index (read post ‘Treading the tough path’; label: Trends), prompts them to use the left lane for walking. And mind you, they seldom mind the honk.

2) Even on a six-lane highway, the left-most lanes on either side are usually the make-shift parking slots.

3) The probability of you knocking down a cyclist, appearing out of nowhere in the dark, is much lesser in the right lane.

4) Any keen observer would testify that the roads usually starts dilapidating from the left, am yet to discover the logic though!

Indeed, methinks, driving to the right is my biggest service to mankind. It helps me save the lives of hundreds of those fearless soldiers who couldn’t care less for their lives.

A toast to their lives, and my ‘right’ (pun intended) drive!

- Namrta Batra

Dare to dream

"Dreams are not those you get while sleeping.


Dreams are those that don't let you sleep."


Well said Akhil.

I salute this guy for his determination, fervor, passion, and dream.

With China at 27, US only at 16, and India still at 1 :( I hope you get us another Gold! Kudos to China, for an amazing show, inspite of its one-time participation in 1930s and consistent participation only since 1984.

Dream a dream with open eyes, and guarantee it would come true.

- A dreamer :)

A Responsible Citizen

It was scary, well past midnight. The street lamps stood tall and proud, but unlit. The roads were pitch black, rather 'tar' black. The only source of light was the headlights, mostly trucks, a few other cars and mine. Bangy is a safe city, safer rather, comparatively. I usually drive slow, but the darkness put me at unease, and anxious to get home. So, as I was ripping thru', slowing only at occasional speed breakers.

Barely a km from home, I saw the trucks, that I was following, change their lanes. I followed. Curious to know why, I rolled my window down, and to my utter dismay saw a man lying flat on his stomach - upper torso on the divider and lower blocking the road. I pulled up on the side, not certain if I should help. There were so many factors against me, the unearthly hour, the alien (local) language, the gender - a lady driver, seldom considered adept at driving, the conked off mobile phone. Besides, I wasn't aware if there was any hospital around, if any FIR was required for treatment, if I would need to wait for the cops, so-on and so-forth. In the meantime, I noticed how the other cars, even two-wheelers had sped past, slowing down their vehicles to notice, yet not noticing the noticeable. So, in the midst of dilemma, I decided not to be a responsible and heroic citizen, and pulled-up!

My heavy heart grew heavier as I drove back home, and I decided to take a safer route and inform the cops at '100' about the incident. Having done that in a bad mix of Kannada & English, the next thing I recall is a series of phone calls back from the cops asking me where did "I hit" the victim, how did "I hit" the victim, ordering me to wait where "I hit" the victim. And there I was trying to explain the cops that I didnt hit, I didnt run away, instead I called up to inform in time to save his life. But the more I tried to explain, the more foolish & helpless I felt!! I wished I had not tried being 'a responsible citizen', and left it to someone else, preferably a local guy, to report the incident, rather than be traumatized by this north-south divide.

And today, as we celebrate the 61st Independence Day, I cant help recall this incident and retrospect if we truly are independent. Are we liberated yet from the social shackles of regional discrimination, petty caste and religion concerns, status and class considerations?

- Namrta Batra

Treading the tough path!

The Union Ministry of Urban Development (UMUD), in a bid to create a job for themselves - as I percieve it, recently calculated the Walkability Index of 30 major cities in the country. The Walkability Index is calculated as (W1*availability) + (W2*facility rating) where W1 & W2 are parametric weights, assumed as 50% for both. And this is how some of them fare:

A more pertinent question: Can we follow-up on these findings with an action item? (Pls note the usage of the word 'action' - c'mon folks we are waiting!). Planned cities like Chandigarh (tops the Walkability Index) provide for public amenities/services eg. footpaths, etc as a vital part of the urban planning process. But congested towns like Bangalore, where the broad lanes have turned into alleys, show no scope, and absolutely no hope, of improvement the pedestrian infrastrucutre.

Wondering if the tax payers' moolah goes into just making reports, or even implementing reforms for the benefit of public!

>> Read the complete article

- Namrta Batra

True Destination

I walk down the crowded platform,
See the vendors line-up per the usual norm.
As I cross each would smile,
Blink their eyes, make a bow, agile.
I know the bench, I know the tree,
I know the tracks, and all that I see.

The signal, the hush and then the whistle,
The roar, the rush and the usual jostle.
I board the rail and set on my way,
Envying the green flag that victorious sway.

A creak, a jerk and the sound stops,
Out of the bars, my head pops.
An other platform, a bench and a tree,
Much the same yet I know none I see.
No-one to bow, no-one to smile,
Difficult to know the sincere from the guile.

Then move-on for the next station,
With same remoteness and much the same fashion.
Smile across to who-so-ever I meet,
With this weapon the coldness defeat.

At times indifferent, at times low,
I wonder to myself ‘Is the rail slow?’
The journey seems longer than my imagination,
Won’t give up till I reach my destination,
Meet faces familiar, for me with smile lit,
People to welcome me with their arms split.

(PONDERER ME '01)

- Namrta Batra

Lost Identity

I am what the world expects of me,
Truthful, honest and right,
Lost is my identity,
Blurred is my sight.

I am not an angel,
Bound to be correct every time,
Is it but for popularity,
I the sages mime?

Can I be myself,
And speak my mind in leisure,
Defy the laws, break the norms,
Do things for my pleasure.

Live every moment of my life,
And cheer up those who are low,
Be a shoulder to lean on,
Spread happiness where ever I go.

(PONDERER ME '01)

- Namrta Batra

Circle of lie

I am the queen of my castle,
With none to dispute, none to hassle,
In the kingdom of treachery and treason,
Where I deceit for no good reason,
Those who trust me, put them down,
Those who love me, make them frown.

I am caught in the circle of lie,
My necessity does my virtue defy.
If I tell the fact, no-one will agree,
‘Truth’ will cost a lot, ‘chicanery’ comes free.
No-one to understand, no-one to comply,
It’s because of this that I choose to lie!

(PONDERER ME '01)

Thank God Its Friday!

I look forward to the weekends. So, lets consider all the happening things I can plan over the weekend. Well, travelling, partying, dating & shopping! Now, lets consider all the not-so-happening things I can plan over the weekend. I guess, reading, photography, swimming, driving & 'orkutting'! So, I really do have an array of choice. Interesting. Also surprising. Infact quite surprising, because I don't actually land-up doing anything out of these happening or not-so-happening activities. So, then I wonder what makes me exclaim 'Thank God Its Friday'! What do I then really associate the weekend with?

Well, I think weekend for me is being at home. I don't imply the literal usage of 'home' here. Its more about being 'at home'. Its a feeling you may attach with a place or a person. Its a feeling which is an outcome of a delicate mix of factors like trust, ease, freedom, comfort, companionship (care & share), and the like.

For instance, I felt just at home at this erstwhile cafe 'Red Bricks' in South Delhi. Its kind of weird, because being an elite cafe that it was, it had a very up-market crowd, quite unlike me. The place was always packed with dainty, watchful, mannerly firangs, and also Indians, but there was something so different about the place, beyond the ambience, which just made me feel just 'at home'. Five minutes in the cafe, with someone or without anyone, and I could just sprawl out on the couch, laugh heartily, eat merrily, and be myself. I have literally walked into the cafe with pyjamas on, early morning around seven-ish, to catch the early morning breakfast usually baked beans and toast, and also with track pants on, late evening around seven-ish, for a smoothie. Infact, it was also my haven against the scorching noon heat, when I used to laze around the place with my mathematics text-book, but just end-up either watching television or reading. And, to top it all, the café did have a classy book-shelf and the most diverse collection of books I have ever experienced anywhere but a bookstore, including Kamasutra, Sidney Sheldon's, Paulo Coelho's, Jack Welsh's, Steven Covey's, Linda Goodman's, Peter Drucker's, and just about everything you would wish to flip through in a cafe. Red Bricks was truly my second home, and quite often I wonder why. Well, it was undoubtedly my kind of place, cosy and classy, and probably it interested me more so because of the good food and books. Besides, since I was a regular customer, or rather an inhabitant, the people at the cafe knew me quite well, they greeted me everytime I went, gave me a 10 percent discount on everything, served me breakfast even if I was some half-an-hour past their timings, let me in for coffee even past the closing time, and also allowed me to borrow books (on a returnable basis). So, I think rule no 1 is the place does matters and rule no 2 is the people do matter.

People make you 'at home' by accepting you the way you are, besides of-course you being able to be yourself with them. Both the conditions have to be true to make one feel 'at home'. You should be able to burp and scratch, yet be wanted and loved for being yourself when 'at home'. Its people who make a house a home, quite cliched but true. I am sure all of us have atleast that one someone with who we are ready to tread any path and yet be 'at home'. I know it just sounds bookish, but I think its true to certain extent. Of-course the extent to which this statement could hold good is determined by your relationship with the person. Personally I am 'at home' anywhere with my mom. Their presence just makes things easy, comfortable, lively, and so much 'at home' for me that the place stops mattering to me anymore. Its quite a feeling, and a feeling which I cant quite describe.

Some people also associate home with parents! Parents are definitely the best lot, you love them for just being there, always, unconditionally. You may not 'get along' with them and they may not 'understand' you because they belong to a different generation, abide by different rules and umpteenth other reasons, but even then they are there for you, always, unconditionally. Their love is not determined by your looks, your intelligence, your skills, your salary, your network, your performance or any such factor. Its quite unconditional, and beyond such transient factors.

So, what really is implied by being 'at home'? I think its about a state of mind where you can be yourself, without any accessory or make-up to beautify you, without any title or designation to glorify you, or without any pretension or facade to add to the 'real you'. Its about being what you are- whether its good, bad or ugly. And, its also about being accepted as what you are by the people around you- good, bad or ugly.

(PONDERER ME)

- Namrta Batra

Fuel for Life

Its not just it, indeed, its my wings, its my freedom! And though not a virgin anymore, it still is my love!

For me, it, being something so tangible, actually translates into an intangible, priceless and ecstatic feeling of freedom, a freedom beyond any bar of time, place and sex. I can be 'my own man' now, 'my own self' now - the wanderer, the go-getter, and I can follow my free-will more freely than ever. My car, a barter, quite worth it!

Just wondering if I can get a good deal for love & happiness...

(WANDERER ME)

- Namrta Batra

Yeh hai Mumbai meri ja!

1:40 ki last local.. Cafe Leopold.. Bandstand..! My recent trip to Mumbai made me confess that despite the humid weather, untimely rains, consistent floods, unpredictable stock-markets, tragic bomb-blasts, neck-to-neck traffic jams, fast people, hectic life, and all the other odds, the city just rocks! The city lives and breathes, and you live and breathe along with it!

There is a different persona to the city, with the night-life or without it! Indeed, an honest confession, I myself have never partied overnight in Mumbai, but of-course, like all 'Bombay-ites', I have used locals for 31 days a month, idled late night on Marine Drive, and lived-on wada-pavs when broke; and like most 'Bombay-ites', mastered the art of reading through a 2-hour journey to work, walked Worli sea-face during rains with an umbrella, and shopped till I dropped at Causeway and Bandra.

My four-month stint with the locals definitely deserves a mention. It was adventurous beyond imagination! I travelled both with and without tickets - with IInd Class tickets in Ist Class compartments and without the tickets, in just any compartment, and unfortunately never got caught. Not only did I memorize the names of all stations on Harbor, Central and Western line, in sequence, but also whether the platform would arrive on left or right! I familized myself with all the color codings on the platform - for Ladies, Ist Class, Luggage and Differently-abled, since I travelled in either of them. And though I never got around to applying for a monthly pass, yet became adept at using coupons. To beat it all, was the bomb-blast incident, where I was to board the very targeted train, but by sheer good luck, escaped the fate of a victim and managed to reach home only by dawn next day, amidst all the frenzy and fear. Never mind those stinky armpits where your nose is shoved at a peak hour (until you get a pass for Ist Class, by no means cheap and by every means five times the ordinary fare), but a local ride is truly worth an experience!

Well, I seem to be apprenticed to Aaj Tak to be sensationalizing every bit of my ordinary experience with the locals. Trust you me on this, they are not bad, rather they are not bad at all! Indeed, you would love them for their convenience and pace, and many more things. Every face on a local has a different story to tell, and when over a period of time you encounter the same faces everyday, you could put these into perspective! And these locals are also like a make-shift departmental store, where you can shop for errands including groceries, fruits, toiletries; women of-course have a lot more to look-up, like cosmetics, bindis, jewellery, gogos and what not; also leaving enough scope for nibblers to munch on interesting things typical of Mumbai, such as bhel-puri, chakli, and numerous other local snacks, with a standard rate of five ruppees for everything. And please don't trust me if I said that you would get jostled and pushed around in a local, because you won't, only if you walk yourself!

So, what is it that keeps a 'Bombay-ite' going! Lets first define a 'Bombay-ite'. He has no caste, no color, no creed, no sex and no language. Anyone thriving, living or surviving in Mumbai is just one of the many, one of them! And what is common amongst all of them is the 'hope'. The hope of being, the hope achieving and the hope of fulfilling! It truly is a ‘City of Dreams’; dreams of any magnitude and any stature!

So, if there was something I could hope for and dream of, it would be an apartment at Marine Drive.. a flat at Worli sea-face.. and a bungalow at Juhu ;)

(WANDERER ME)

- Namrta Batra