Monday, August 4, 2014

No Nonsense Chayaisms from the 80s…Indian Woman In Orbit



                                                         Indian Woman In Orbit
JANUARY I, 2000 AD. Good evening, viewers. In the na­tional programme tonight, we bring you a video recording of the press conference with Rati Surati, our first Indian woman cosmonaut. As you know, the American spacecraft, Noyuz”, and the space laboratory, “Namaste”, docked in the 19th orbit yesterday. Rati is in fine fettle, and we now take you over to the press conference.

                Beep . . . beep . . ; Transmission bad. Please do not adjust your television sets.

                “Woman’s Own”: How does India look from where you are, madam?

                Rati: So sweet. Just like home sweet home.

                “The Career Woman”: Madam, do you recommend space travel to women seeking an exciting career?

                Rati: Of course, provided they don't mind being confined to the four walls of a spacecraft. I mean, from here you can’t step out to seek your identity.

                “Trim Figure”: Madam, what exercises are you teaching your American fellow, sorry, women cosmonauts?

                Rati: I have brought a cassette of the Rekha workout, and everyday we do it for a few hours.

                “Woman Scientist”: Madam, what experiments are you conduct­ing there?

                Rati: We are deeply involved in trying to find the right formula for making a washing soap that does not harm the skin, and a pill that contains all the nutrients with­out calories as a lunchtime snack for children in balwadis.

                “Grihalakshmi”: Madam, do you miss your husband and children?

                Rati: I miss all my friends and neighbours. From here, I keep wondering what Mrs. Puri or Mrs Nair, my neighbours, are doing at this time.

                “Health And Hygiene”: Madam, what is your special diet now?
               
                Rati: We have frozen cucumber, which combats the harsh effects of space atmosphere on the com­plexion. Then we have honey tablets for natural slimming. For lunch, we have tinned tomatoes to put the colour back into our cheeks.

                “Home Psychiatrist”: Madam, what was your first thought when you left the earth?

                Rati: I prayed that my husband would remember to turn off the gas before going to bed every night,

                “The Inner Voice”: Madam, do you pray to God there?

                Rati: Of course. I have brought along a little idol of Ganesha, and every time I pray, the other two cosmonauts want to know all about the elephant head, and I tell them.

                “My Lady”: What are your fu­ture plans?
               
                Rati: I will go back to my origi­nal occupation as home maker. But I am sure I won’t be satisfied with it for very long. Jai Hind.

(Arnab was not born then or the interview would have been full of his own bombastic answers!!)

Sunday, August 3, 2014

No Nonsense Chayaisms from the 80s….If I ruled India



                                                               If I ruled India  
THE ‘one minute managers’ concept is doing its rounds in the corporate world. 
Extending its reach, I would like to be one month ruler of India and reorganise the country so
thorough­ly that no one would want to leave its shores to seek green pastures.
My strategy is rather lopsided; me­thods, high handed and premises illogical, but results
guaranteed.  I shall tackle every thorn that is pricking the sides of the common man and for
once,come out with a solution—good, bad or ugly.

* The first priority is to sort out the States. The Sikhs will get their Khalistan, the Telugus their
Desam, the Kannadigas their Rajya, the Tamils their Nadu etc.  But there will be a strict stipulation- each man to his own state. Not even tourist visas will be issued.
The States will have to be entirely self sufficient in food grains, in­dustry—everything.
If you want to get Delhi basmati to Bombay, you will have to apply for an import license and all let­ters from one State to another will be censored. Having settled every­one in their respective States. I will turn my attention towards the law and order situation.
* The police force will he disbanded. Each locality will have a security unit manned by a retired Service Officer.
* All youths above the age of 16, will be recruited as civil defence ‘jawans’ and be given rigorous phy­sical training for two years. During this period, it is their business to keep their locality clean and safe.
As for the unemployed policemen, they will be given crash courses in moral science and then allotted kiosks to sell stationery.
* I will make it compulsory for every aspiring politician to do a post­graduate course of three years duration, and learn the art of administration. Public speaking will be part of the curriculum, in which they will be taught to say sensible and relevant things in five minutes, with few lectures on punctuality and simple living.
* On the education front—all pregnant women have to register their to-be- born babies’ could-be-name, in the school within the radius of a mile from where they live. No school buses will be allowed and all students will-have to start from nursery and finish the XII std., from the same school, after which all the marks will be computed and seats automatically allotted in various colleges, depending upon their performance.
* There will be no paper work in the university, as all rules of eligibility, domicile, migration and other cer­tificates will be done away with. Absenteeism in offices will be mini­mised with parents not having to go to various ministers to seek re­commendation.
* Housing situation will improve—all houses will have a rental ceiling fixed, depending on the present value of land and building costs— notwithstanding where they are locat­ed. Those owning houses will not be allowed to live in rented ones and as everyone will be living in their respective states permanently, they will have to own a house—the gov­ernment giving them all the build­ing materials at a subsidized cost.
* I will hold important international meets in different states by turns so that the roads are improved, trees are planted and the whole place is given a facelift.
It may not be a ‘Ram Rajya’ in its pristine  sense, but it certainly will be a country where people can hope for a ‘mind without fear’ and hold their heads high!

Anyone interested in making me  leader?

No Nonsense Chayaisms from the 80s…How movies mislead?



How movies mislead?
   I am very angry with the producers of films or should l say story – writers? They give us such wrong notions about life and people … and worse, tell us stories which make us expect too much from life! As a teenager, l was a real film addict and sat through almost all the ones that were released in the local theatres. What gripped my imagination were the romance and the idyllic picture of married bliss. I watched these with stars in my eyes. The heroine was Oh! so lovely and the hero so dashing.  The seven steps they took around the fire were so majestic..  the flower bedecked room awaiting them… the giggling friends hiding under the bed…the moon sailing so serenely in the sky … the hero lifting the veil off his wife’s face … the shy rejection of his advances … the tender song. My eyes would well up with tears of anticipation …when will l have the same beautiful moments? My heart would whisper.
Ah! cruel, reality! How different from the make – believe world of what l saw in the films. Weddings in real life are seldom so romantic. At least, not mine. As we went round the fire, the pujari kept hurrying us as he had to preside over another wedding and all my bharatnatyam steps had to be cut down to a trod behind my hubby, who was more worried about his dhoti  riding up his legs. There was no decorated room waiting for us and as for the moon, it happened to be a particularly cloudy night. And my husband turned out to be the most unmusical man I have come across. I am sure this is the story of many a woman who agrees to marry after seeing the screen version of a wedding.
Let us see what happens after the screen wedding. The wife is woken gently by the husband who has brought a cup of steaming coffee for her. She then lays out his watch, pen, socks, hanky etc.  He whistles while he dresses and as a final touch of wifely concern, she slips on the coat for him.  They walk up to the door, tenderly looking at each other .She waves to him while he throws her a flying kiss and drives off.  She then dances around with a pillow and hums to herself.  The telephone rings and it is the hubby from the office, whispering lovey dovey things into her ears. Some even sing into the phone.
Now, how many true life husbands and wives have all the time to do things like this before going to work?  In most cases, wives don’t have time to lay out their husband’s knick – knacks as they have to make breakfast, fill up water before it stops and get the food ready before the dabbawala comes for it. As for ringing up from the office. They only do so if they have forgotten something or want to warn the wife about bringing someone for dinner.
Then, comes the great day when the wife blushing and coy, picks up the knitting needles and the husband lets out a cry of joy.  The other variation is the pickle eating scene.  They are overjoyed.  Here again, the screen cheats!  Generally it is the doctor who makes the announcement in a deadpan voice that you are expecting and the hubby only looks relieved that it is not cancer!  All that bit about his chewing his nails or smoking like a chimney outside the labour ward is non-sense. The real life wife goes to her mother’s to deliver and invariably the guy is playing cards in the club or seeing a movie when the news of his child’s birth reaches him!
So much for the romance of matrimony and motherhood.  Meet the screen people. The mother, she is either a deadly woman with poison flowing in her veins or such a sweet one that ants love to cluster around her.  She is either sewing clothes to educate her sons or giving them thousand rupees cheques every morning. She is either coughing before a choolah or attending plush kitty parties.  There is no ‘normal’ mother.
The father is a shade worse. He is so strict that you would think he is a retired jailor or so soft that you would like to eat him out of a cone. He drools over his daughter and gives his son such stern looks that the guy is reminded of Shiva’s third eye. Surprisingly, the father in the films is invariably a rich tycoon with more money than is good for his health, which is the reason he dies.  He generally shouts too much which is why he has a heart problem.
Then, we have the maid. No woman in her right mind will employ anyone looking like the screen one. She wears the latest dresses and her hairstyle will cost her at least three month’s salary. She wriggles and wiggles when she wipes the floor and a real life wife would run and buy a vacuum cleaner instead of having a dame like that around.

The kids of the screen are too funny to believe. They talk like mini-philosophers and sing like Mian Tansen. They bring separated parents together and teach all adults the value of truth and honesty. Have you ever heard of a child going to school and studying? That can only happen in real life!
Why does it always rain unexpectedly? In Madras and other places, you only hear about people hankering for rain. Yet, in films it comes down, especially after a song and there is always a cosy little cottage abandoned for the purpose of providing shelter for the drenched pair. They spend a few hours there and lo! She becomes pregnant.
 But all this tamasha is nothing compared to the villain and his hide out. His ‘adda’ is better equipped than the NASA and except having men from Mars doing his  bidding, he has all sorts of weird characters chewing gum and saying ‘yes boss’ every-time he orders them to go and finish off a couple of police men or kidnap their children.

Look at the houses on the screen. Staircases wind their way in a spacious hall filled with antiques and expensive things. Just as bizzare is the poor man’s hut .There is no via media. Either the heroine has a roomful of clothes or she has only tattered sarees. The hero is either lounging in a big bed with satin covers and brocade curtains or he is sleeping in a public park.
  Cinema, they say, is a part of life. But which part I‘d like to know!
Yet, why should we grumble? We see enough of misery and suffering around us. What we want is a little escape from it all, into the land of flying goddesses and angelic children. We want a make – believe world and we get it for just a couple of rupees.
But the only thing that l cannot forgive the films for is this business about the wife helping the husband into his coat and he telephoning her from the office to coo into her ears. These fantasies must be banned. They are harmful to the existence of a happy married life!           

Saturday, August 2, 2014

No Nonsense Chayaisms from the 80s…Bringing up father



Bringing up father
FOR the last so many years, my sons, Arjun and Anil, have been trying to “bring up their fa­ther", but they haven’t succeeded. He still doesn’t “know anything”, is “unreasonable” and “old fashioned”. In many of their disputes, I have to assume the role of the peace com­mission. My loyalty to both warring parties is often strained at the leash. If there is one thankless job in this world, it is that of a woman caught between a husband with conserva­tive ideas and sons with radical philosophies!
The boys can never understand why their dad gets ragged when they greet him with, “hello Baap” in the mornings! “They have no respect for me: do I ever talk to my father like this?” he protests, “C’mon dad” they drawl “we’re friends!” Before they can appeal to me to “explain” to dad I find refuge in the kitchen (what would women do without this sanctum?!)
They are quite “foxed” that dad has no ear for music! Secretly I can appreciate my hubby’s strong reac­tion to the loud decibels that shatter the quite of the morn in the name of music! But I am trained well en­ough to tolerate the same by pre­tending I’m deaf. Not dad — he stomps into their room and pulls off the cord of the music system and tries to match the decibels with his own loud “shelling.”
How come dad never remembers the names of the girl friends who call? All he can say is “some girl called” — that’s not very helpful, especially to boys who have a string of sweethearts. “In our days, we never spoke to girls”, says dad, and they look at him with pity!
“Pull down those ghastly post­ers”, he screams. I try to intervene and suggest that the boys keep their room door shut, but dad has X-ray eyes — he can sense the strewn- around clothes and books also!
“Why should they look into the mirror so often?...Why should they keep their hair so long...Why don’t they button up their shirts...Why do they wear such weird clothes...” These are the questions that “bug” the father while the sons want to know why dad wants their rooms and walls to be clean. Why can’t he at least write down the names of the girls who call. Why can’t dad move with the times!!
“Yes, I am the villain of the piece,” concludes the father and the boys ruffle his hurt feelings even more with “don’t get hassled father — cool it join us Hey man — let’s have fun together”! I look slightly shocked at the liberties they take with him but....
Imagine my surprise the other day when I came home early and found dad in the boy’s room. He was wearing Arjun’s “fatigues” (a rather ghastly pair of trousers he abhors!), his jungle boots and red T-shirt and Anil’s ski glasses. He didn’t hear me coming in as he had on the headphones of The Walkman! At last — dad has grown up!

( I am sure Dad will smile from Heaven where he is,when he reads this)