The great Mumbaiya Durga Pujo countdown

I spent most of the second half of Durga Pujo 2009 hopping pandals around Mumbai – of course, there are Bengalis here too, who love to celebrate the festival with much gusto and attempt to relive their Bangaliana (if there is such a word) during these five days. So I cruised from one end of the city to the other searching for pandals and I can proudly say that while most colleagues and friends managed to catch only about one pujo or two, I checked out seven pujos up close and another two from a distance. This is what I found –

• There are many, many, many, many, many Durga pujo pandals in Mumbai, pretty much one in every area. It’s wonderful to see how many Bengalis live here and come together annually to make sure so many pandals are set up all across the city.
• People dress up way too much, much more than those in Kolkata.
• There is no us-them feeling between different paraas. Everyone who walks can partake of the Prasad/bhog.
• There are some amazing cultural programmes.
• The ‘Bengali food’ available around the pandals can burn a big hole in your pocket.

Anyway, now for lack of better things to do, I made up my very own rating of which pujo scores well on different grounds. Please note that this list is based on the rather limited number of Pujos I managed to visit.

• Most homely pujo: Tejpal hall (Peddar Road) - It’s one of the oldest pujos in the city and despite the long line of big cars queued outside and the flamboyant and obviously expensive clothes and accessories, the place has a very barir pujo feeling to it.
• Best pandal: Powai – It was a massive pandal created in the form of a sandstone castle and was created quite well.
• Most overrated pujo: Juhu Road – This is ‘famed’ as Rani Mukerjee’s pujo. Or so I heard. Celebrities flitting in and out of the pandal, serving the afternoon bhog, blah, blah, blah. We walked in to see nobody except a rather lackluster pujo. Moreover, what’s with the celeb-obsession. Since when did Bipasha Basu and Shaan become the chief attractions of a Durga pujo for god’s sake?!
• Most innovative: Pujos in Mumbai score rather low on innovation…no fancy (or shall we say, creative?!) pandals or protimas here. But this small pujo opposite PVR Juhu, that we coincidentally stumbled upon, had golden protimas, which were comparatively unusual and interesting.
• Best fish fry: Based on multiple comments, I have come to the conclusion that it was at the Sree/Ma Durga snacks place at the Powai pandal. A thick layer of fried bhetki coated by a well-fried batter…yummy!
• Most expensive: Lokhandwala – All you could see around that place were expensive, high end food joints. Whoever pays 95 bucks for a single piece of fish fry!
• Value for money: Again, this goes to the little pujo opposite PVR, Juhu. The only place that came the closest to Kolkata pricing policy in terms of food.
• Best fair: The Powai pujo for making optimum use of the large playground where the celebrations were held. Food stalls, curio and clothes stores filled up every inch of the venue. Shivaji Park comes a close second.
• Best ambience: Powai – The only place where you knew it was a pujo from 500 yards outside the pandal. Twinkling bulbs adorned the trees outside and you could see Bengali families queuing up to enter the place.

However there was one thing that not even the best pandal got us in Mumbai. Pujos in Kolkata are as much about pandal hopping, eating and worshipping, as much as it is about spending time with friends and families around the venue of the pujo, soaking in the atmosphere of the place. Durga pujo is in the air during those five days. I found it missing here. I have heard that a pujo in Vashi (now shifted to Panvel) comes close, but I will have to probably wait for another pujo to discover that.

Whiny post

It's rather ironic - the circumstances udner which I am bloggin again today. When I had stopped blogging post my last piece in April 28, it was because I got tired. Tired of writing sad and pessimistic posts. It felt like I had nothing worthwhile to say.
Today, as I discreetly type this out from my computer in office (haven't got a conenction at home), I still don't have anythign good to say. I hate, hate, absolutely hate what I am doing, I feel lonely and pissed and I seem to be having a strange allergic reaction to chillies. Oh yes, and I am tryign very hard to save.
Last week was my nth attempt to resign from the job. I let myself be drawn away from that idea yet again...like a complete invertebrate. There was a reason of course - I have no other job to turn to and I need all the money I can get. Sitting at home waiting for a job to come my way is not really an option I can afford. So here I am, rotting away in front of a prehistoric computer writing nonsense, while others do better things.
:( :( :( :( :(

Maybe....

Reclusive pianists tap-dancing on bar tops, storytellers on fascinating journeys across hills and deserts, troubled detectives trying to solve gruesome murder mysteries - dancers, artists, business tycoons, superheroes…

Maybe I just want to live the lives of the people I read about in the books. And if their reality eventually turns out to be as mundane as mine, I would like to be stuck between the pages of the book, enacting what the author puts into the pages…

I was watching Pursuit of Happyness for the umpeenth time (it's one of my favourite films) when this part comes...Chris Gardner talking about how did Thomas Jefferson know that happiness is always something we pursue...

It's funny how films, lyrics sometimes voice our thoughts, so much better than we can ever do. 

Things always eventually get better...I mean, how long can thing remain bad, after a point, even the worst has to recover. But while that very worst is on, it's often hard to even imagine that you are ever going to get out of it. 

There are so many things said that are meant to inspire and motivate. If you truly want something, the universe conspires to bring it to you (or something like that!) If you are passionate about what you do, nobody can stop you from reaching your goals. Like hell, they can! 

If only everything inside here could just go quiet for a little while...just blank out...

I used to think the problems and worries of one's life were meant to be kept to oneself. At the msot close family members and friends would know. My parents discussed their "issues" in hushed tones over phones or in carefully sealed intimate letters. Whether it was a break-up or a sick family member, one's problems weren't meant to be gossip...

How very ironical that these days, even the slightest hint of agony becomes a flashing update on the FBs and GTalks of the world! Suddenly everyone knows and 'shares' our grief (catfights, sorrow, tears, worry, failure)...the cyber world is the new best place to rant (see previous post for example). Who cares that one of the more explicit updates can become the latest food for gossip in town...This is the place where our life often ends up stripped to its basics...what a freaking tragedy! 

The bigger irony...I am lamenting this trend on the same medium

RANT!!!

Students of Yale University come out with a daily newspaper...and I am struggling to bring out my college's yearly mag. And no, I aint entirely to blame. I thought it was a students magazine...STUDENTS...by them, for them. But no, now I realize it's hardly that way. Nothing goes into print unless it has passed the cautious approval of the teachers. Most of whose scanning system I don't agree with. Because a much better written piece on boys indulging in drugs is rejected in favour of a shittily written story on how a stupid girl gets adicted and realises her mistake. Reason, the first story isn't 'clear'...of course, it isn't...it isn't meant to...dude, students don't want moral science lessons in the magazine. Half the good novels in the world have a warped, delusional feeling to them...Kubla Khan, which I hope the teachers teach, was written in a similar fit. Hello...come into the real world. It's not about sheltering 'damsels in distress' from the wolf. It's about empowering them enough to decide whose the wolf.

What is wrong with the institution and its decision maker?! Why is every shred of thought so deeply scanned to reject and idea that is even slightly deviant? Why are the ideas flowing through the place so hackneyed and conservative? Why is the cover painting of a girl with scarlet lips seen as slutty (which by the way, the accusers refuse to pronounce. "This picture...doesn't it look...you know?!") Why are students in psychology classes shown videos of abortion and asked to refrain from sex? If we are taught to be women of the 21st century, why is every girl in the college being groomed into 19th century Jane Austen heroines.

I have half a mind to resign from my duties, but its a tad late and we might as well get it over with. But maybe next year, they should just stop all this hypocrisy and take over this thing they call the mag themselves. All students will have to do is write their tiny stories and poems, and feel gratified if they are chosen to be published.

GOODBYE...

Over the last three years, I dragged myself at times, convincing that college would end...and the trauma would be finally over. But now that it's really over, I am slightly sad...I cried a few tears at the farewell yesterday, I felt a strange sense of sadness every time a prof said "Goodbye. And do well."

I never liked my college. Even now, I would rather leave than stay on. But there were bits and parts of it that I know I will miss. My tiny TY class, fun moments even with those profs i didn't particularly like, working on some of the world's most hilarious projects, faffinf about thing I knew nothing of, acting kiddy and clingy in class, snatching at food (precisely the reason I was crowned for being Miss Bhuki yesterday) and pendulating between boredom, anger and happiness...

It has been a good three years. A classmate's GTalk status says - "and it's time to move on yet again." But I think there are good memories to cling on too. 

I made a new blog today. Sometimes, I sometimes can't believe what is happening in the country. But this blog, with its digs at threading and life in general makes it a rather inappropriate place to talk about more 'serious' issues. 

http://newsbroadcasting.blogspot.com/

What's in a name??

Even if I do change my name after my marriage, how does it prove that I am a virtuous wife...no matter what Sanjay Dutt says?

And who's gets to keep their own name, if it's a man marrying a man, or a woman marrying a woman?

And why do I have to change my name after marriage, when I have lived my life and made my career with the name I was born with?

And why are educated men, who otherwise vouch for women's rights, suddenly get so frigid when it comes to what names their girlfriends and wives use?

Thoughts after a discussion in class on the subject that has sparked off questions, discussions and a lot of unwarranted fights between otherwise perfectly happy couples...  

THREADING TROUBLES

No pain, no gain, they say. Becoming beautiful isn't any easy task and any women can guarantee this fact. You know what I mean if you have been through a process called waxing. Well, I usually keep my decibel level to an absolute minimum, usually on silent, there are some who believe in screaming their hearts out to ease the pain. I thought, after ten-fifteen times, the pain ceases to register, but maybe I am wrong...

But threading, my dear mates, is a different ballgame. Ten, fifteen or fifteen hundred times, the pain does not seem to diminish much. So before each time, I need to visit a salon for the holy ritual, I go through much mental preparation...not that it helps much. I still end up shedding tears of agony every time, no matter how much I try not to.

Moreover, threading is an ART. One wrong move and the shape of your eye brow gets, shall we say, F&$K** up for the next twenty days. Let me tell you how - year 2007, my usual salon (of those days) ended up shaping both my eye brows in different directions. My optimism that nobody would notice did not help much. About a week later, sitting in a coffeeshop, the person in front of me suddenly went, "Um, where do you get your eyebrowsdone? "Er,why? "Don'tget it done there again, it's hopelessly out of place." Oh dear!!!

I am always on my eternal search for that perfect salon, which can shape my eyebrows the right way. Hasn't happened yet. Too thick, too thin, too short, too wrong...it's somehow never ok. The greatest debacle of course occured yester day when I paid 90 bucks for my eyebrows. Is it a lot, you ask. Well, I usually pay 30. And all this, in the quest of that perfect pair of eyebrows. Across geographical barriers, my search continues...

And upper lip threading is quite another story. It's not unlikely to hear the screams and see tears fall evertime the threads moves swiftly over the lips. And manipulating the skin and holding it tight doesn't help much...

But I, and many others like me, despite the pain and anguish, continue to do it, month after month. because we are told it makes us prettier and cleaner. And no pain, I suppose, can deter women from their questy for eternal beauty.

January 20, 2009

Too much work...damn, I can't wait to get out...probably from the frying pan to the fire...but right now I prefer the fire to this goddamned frying pan, from which even the non-sticky fibre is peeling out...

And I need the internet at home!!!!!!!!!!

My big, big discovery of the day...drawing lines on MS Word...oh, and learning to manipulate text boxes...what was I doing all this while, when the world was busy changing?