Of Designer Burqas.....

For two weeks in the same month, The Hindu's Sunday magazine has written about this trend in fashionable burqua and how young Muslim women are taking to it because it is stylish while still conforming to the tradition which requires them to wear it!

The first article was about an Aghan book, being made into a film with six women talking about their relationship with the burqas and the second is about designer burqas making a `Stylish Comeback'. The common thread was that younger women find it acceptable to wear these fashionable, designer burqas which are apparently colourful, decorated with heavy embroidery and in some cases, form-fitting and more like a salwar, whereas older women feel that designer or black, a burqa is a symbol of oppression for women.

I find myself more in sync with the opinions of the older women than the younger. Of course, it may be a sign that I am moving closer to senility, but on the other hand, I think they at least have a point to make. If you have to wear a burqa which is almost a salwar but not quite, why don't you just wear a salwar? Or a jeans, or a shorts, or a skirt, for that matter. To me too, wearing burqas is not about being fashionable but about modesty being more applicable to women than to men. On the one hand, there is this whole thing about how women are getting bolder in looking for men and how men are becoming conscious of their appearance, so as to attract the maximum attention. And on the other, we talk about wearing burqas for modesty. Really, that is too much of a polarisation!

I know that there is this argument which states that a burqa is immensely liberating as it lends anonymity to the woman wearing it. And today's article in The Hindu, actually begins with that statement too. But I find that a hollow argument. Why can't a woman be anonymous, dressed in normal clothes? Why do they have to resort to a burqa to feel that anonymityand the consequent liberation? Considering it is only women who wear a burqa as a symbol of liberation, it still speaks a lot about the state of the society we live in and the excuses we can drum up to make a double standard acceptable.

Book Review: How to be Good

Yes, that is the title of the book and no, it is not what the kindergarten teacher or a harassed parent wrote! My favourite movie is About a Boy, based on a novel by Nick Hornby and I was actually hunting for that book when I saw this one. The title was a bit intriguing, as it did seem quite the stuff of juvenile earnestness, but the blurb read interesting and so I got it and how I loved it!!

Actually, as the title suggests, the book is about how all of us do try to be good. But being good is quite tiring, not to mention boring and sanctimonious. And thatz what Hornby has given to us packaged with humour and wit. The protagonist is Katie Carr, a GP who chose her profession because she wanted to be good. She is now in her forties, married to a guy who is `The Angriest Man in Holloway' and has two children. She is tired of being good, being married to a cynical and bitter guy and tired of being a mother. But at the same time, she is criminally uninclined, not to say inept. She tries to divorce her husband, who patently ignores it and she is too scared to tell the children. She tries adultery and finds it too complicated and mundane and not at all fun and sinful.So really she doesn't know what to do.

And then her husband, this angry cynical guy, suddenly decides to turn good, with the help of a character who calls himself GoodNews. Katie can't decide now who she hates more - her sanctimonious husband who tries to get homes for the homeless and to improve the world through noble thoughts/deeds or the bitter, angry man he was before. She sometimes prefers the latter, simply because that is normal!!

True Brit style ( I always have been honest about being an Anglophile) of great humour, this is really a very contemporary story of how we want to be good, but find it difficult to without being abnormal! I really loved it when Katie goes to church and then finds the vicar(ess actually) turn up at her hospital to be treated for stress and the origin of the stress is the preaching.

The end finally makes it back to Katie's husband David dropping his `goodness' and he returns to normal - minus the bitterness and anger. And so life goes on....

The book is very insightful in the sense that if one is deeply unhappy or angry or bitter, it is easy to turn a leaf and become `GOOD'. But if you a decent person normally, wanting to do that bit of good for the world without wanting to reform it, life can be uncomfortable and confusing sometimes.

The best bit is of course, all this is said in a thoughtful, self-deprecating, humourous style which makes for absolutely great reading, but still leaves you thinking about it.

Contemporary, funny and amazing.I love Nick Hornby, (sigh but he is 50!!)

The God with 360 brides!!

For some reason, I have recently been visiting quite a few temples. Not that I am complaining - I love temples, especially ones with some story behind them. This is about one of them with an interesting and entertaining story. The temple is called the Nithya Kalyana Perumal temple and is located in a place called Thiruvidandhai, on the ECR, 3 kms past Kovalam as you drive from Madras. Historical references to this temple apparently date back to the 10th century A.D.

The story goes as follows : A celestial damsel who was cursed to mortality approached Sage Kalava for redemption - if he married her, she would be redeemed. The sage obliged, but as it turned out, she was admitted back to heaven but the sage was not. So she stayed back for a while and the couple had 360 daughters and she returned to heaven leaving the sage to grapple with the offspring! The eldest daughter was called Komalavalli and she was intent on marrying Lord Narayana and prayed to Him everyday asking Him to accept her as His bride. Since Komalavalli wouldn't marry anyone other than the Lord and she being the eldest daughter, the other daughters also could not be married off. The sage was a very worried man. One day he met this bright young man with whom he was very impressed and asked him if he would marry his daughter. Komalavalli, though, was not interested in anyone other than Narayana Himself. Subsequently, the young man is revealed as Narayana and Komalavalli accepts him. Now that the sage knew who his son-in-law-to-be was, he asked him to marry all his daughters which the Lord did. So for one full year, Lord Narayana married the sage's daughters one a day and the sage found his way to heaven!!!

Since the Lord marries everyday, the temple is called Nithya Kalaya Perumal Temple. The main deity is Lakshmi Varaha Perumal (Narayana in the form of a boar) with - Akhilavalli Thayar as the consort (all the daughter finally collapse into one consort). There is a separate shrine for Komalavalli Thayar. The site is supposed to be the ashram of the sage.

I read the story in a newspaper and went to the temple with huge curiosity. There are several unanswered questions - why the form of a boar? why was the sage refused admittance to heaven in the first place? why 360 daughters? why does the Lord marry all of them?

While I haven't found any answers to the above questions, I did find this interesting piece in Chennai Online : `Vaishnavite lore has it that all of us are females and the Lord Narayana is the only male - Purushothama. For ultimate salvation we have to seek eternal union with him. It is only in this context that Thirumangai Alwar offers 10 hymnal endearments (pasurams) to the Lord yearning for merger in him. The ‘Nayika’ (bride) seeks merger in the ‘Nayaka’ (bridegroom). This is, in essence, bridal mysticism. It is against this background that Thiruvidanthai assumes special significance when we pray to the Lord for marriage - wish fulfillment in an earthly way but with a sublime connotation. We must understand and appreciate the spirit and significance behind a reverential pilgrimage to this temple.'

The temple though is very earthy in its operations. The temple is famous for the fact that unmarried people who come here and complete 9 pradakshanas will quickly find the spouse of their dreams!

Review : The Devil Wears Prada

Hah! This must be the first time that a review is being written after the movie has long vanished from the cinema halls of Chennai. What to do? When the movie was playing I wasn't exactly in blooming health and the thought of going all the way to Satyam Cinemas was quite daunting, even though I really wanted to see the movie.So finally I did watch it on DVD and to put it simply - it was very disappointing.

To give a brief outline of the story - Meryl Streep is the powerful and ruthless(???) editor of a leading fashion magazine and Anne Hathway, who comes to New York with dreams of becoming a journalist, lands up as her assistant. Everyone around her keeps telling her how a million girls would love to be where she is, but initially she is not convinced. Well, how can she be, considering she is nothing better than a valet - having to get coffee for her boss, hang up her coat, get stuff organised for her boss' children etc and being in the middle of a shallow world focussing purely on making a dress!! Well, the shallow world is worth billions and employs thousands of people, she is told (and this is true and why is fashion the only target, while there are cosmetics and cosmetic surgery as well as health clubs etc., doing pretty much the same?) and somewhere down the script she flips - for no plausible reason, except for a severe lecture from a colleague - and towards the end of the movies flips back again. There are a lot of characters who float in and out to help her make this point, but since none of them are memorable, I am not going to make the effort.

I had expected a witty, razor sharp movie on the ruthless fashion world but Devil .... is sentimental!! What more can you say?? Everybody, including Meryl Streep looked nice, dressed nice but were terribly unfleshed out characters. I still can't make out Anne Hathway's character - she initially loathes the world, then actually believes in it and then filmy style gets out of it!! I believe the book is much better. I should've just stuck with it! Sigh!

Madras Musings ...

Well, after the tour of Mumbai, I also wanted to do the Madras city round-up with places to visit etc. But somehow, I could never write it well and after several aborted attempts, I finally decided to give it up. I can probably just list out the places I was going to include, just for ready reference - Chennai Museum (with Museum Theatre and Connemara Library also thrown in), Marina, Elliots, Valmiki Nagar and Neelankarai Beaches, Kapaleeshwarar Koil, Parthasarathy Koil, St Thomas Mount and Santhome Church, Madras Music College, Theosophical Society, Kalakshetra, Dakshin Chitra and Cholamandalam Artists village for culture and Rippon Building, Chennai Central and Egmore just as reference for colonial architecture. I was going to throw in T.Nagar for city experience too!!! But, you see(this is such a typical Tamil expression), unlike Mumbai where I have wandered around to heart's content, each of the above places means you go there with some purpose. So I can't find that comfortable wandering spirit, but I just love most of the above mentioned places (yes even the Museum and the stations!)

But I did want to mention Parthasarathy Temple for a special reason. Tho' I've been there before, this time I paid attention to what was around me and found something curious. The main deity, i.e Vishu as the charioteer (hence Parthasarathy), has a distinctly Dravidian look, with a big meesai(moustache) and rolling eyes. For some reason this rather thrilled me. So far, Vishnu in any of his avatars, has always sported this clean-shaven look which is associated with Aryans.I found this Meesai look, look very true to the local interpretation(it closely resembles some of the village statues!) and I wanted to mention that specifically.

Further online search, as well as some columns of S.Muthiah, put the origins of this temple sometime in 800 A.D which is around the time of the Pallavas. The basic architecture is supposed to be similar to the Pallava style, though there are some extensions and modifications. And here is a bit of trivia - the main deity, whose looks I was so thrilled about, is supposed to resemble Mamallan or Narasimha Pallava!! I am really curious, why would the Pallavas build a temple, in honour of one of their greatest kings, in the obscure Chennapatnam rather than in Poompuhar or in Mahabalipuram? It is a mystery, so any historical background or interesting stories in response are very welcome.

Incidentally, the temple also played an important role during the Indian Independence movement and is said to have been the location of the Youth cell of the Congress. There is a small commemorative stone outside marking the place from which the Southern equivalent of the Dandi March to Vedaranyam started. Very Indian style, this bit of monument is ignored completely and you see a lot of chappals propped around it. Triplicane itself, which was considered a hot-bed of fervent rebels at the time of the independence movement is now a rather sad and bourgeoise neighbourhood!

Humour - A Serious Issue!

Have you noticed how, as we evolve into a more capitalist society, we are losing our sense of humour? We tend to take ourselves terribly seriously and get very annoyed at small examples of our unimportance. Like when the road in front does not clear automatically as one drives, and even after furious honking there are all those cars, bikes and, dash it all even cycles, in front of you. Or when at the supermarket, just as you quickly rush down the aisles towards the billing counter there is this one person who steps in front of you. Or when you are rushing off to this extremely important meeting, the security insists on you following the visitors procedure. Not only do all these people willfully ignore your importance, they even have the effrontery to imitate your actions. You, of course, are in no mood to accept `a taste of one’s own medicine’ with good grace and a grin.

But the bigger and, in my humble opinion, scarier scenario is one in which one you begin to talk in four syllable words and sentences so obscure in meaning that if you are ever called to really and truly explain yourself, you would be at a loss. This begins to happen at that point when you are so materialistic, that you begin to sound spiritual about it. Somewhat like when you hear about this couple who chartered a plane to rough it out at an ashram in the Himalayas to `synergise our spiritual self to the great one-ness of that central metaphysical being who is beyond the realization limits of the whole.’ There, the fact that I have been completely unable to formulate one sentence which will elevate you to a different `plane of existence’ shows that I am one of those idiots who have not arrived. But I pride myself on the fact that I have actually constructed a sentence which has no meaning, so I still have hope! (The eternal optimist!)

Now I find this a tad bit strange. I would have believed that it is socialists with their lofty ideals, about which they are terribly intense and passionate and earnest, would be the creators of a humourless society. Why? Simply because they have a noble goal (my opinion, but I acknowledge this is contestable) and nobility for some reason breeds righteousness and righteousness is a serious humour impediment. But, maybe this is an irony of existence, that society has a fantastic brand of humour – cynical, witty, intelligent and lastingly hilarious. That is perhaps a reaction to all the earnestness around and a reflection of the intelligence which tends to gravitate towards the left.

On the other hand, I would’ve tended to believe that life in a capitalist society is about prosperity and prosperous people would normally have more reason to smile and hence perhaps have a better sense of humour – basically, anyone who loves to laugh would appreciate great humour. But I have noticed that this is not the case. I think a capitalist society is driven by achievers and hence generally everybody is racing to achieve or whining about not being able to achieve. The achievers tend to look for appreciation of their efforts and don’t like being made fun of, and anyways in the course of busily achieving, they get very earnest and self-important. And of the remaining, there is one lot which makes enough for a good living and is content and complacent and complacence is right there alongside righteousness as a humour-murder-weapon. The other lot is the one which is branded as `losers’ in the current societal parlance and is basically too bitter about it or is perhaps in no mood to be funny.

I think the time has come to define exactly what I mean by humour – I don’t mean jokes or one-liners or stand-up comedy. This you actually find in plenty in a capitalist society. I am talking about that brand of humour which essentially is directed as much at yourself as it is at others. This is that brand of humour which springs from intelligence and awareness.

I do not mean to say that humour cannot exist at all in a capitalist society. Bill Waterson and Scott Adams are but two singular examples who can quickly prove me wrong. This more towards defining the general. The point I am trying to really make is that material societies are full of smart people whereas socialist societies are full of intellectuals. But we all know that both societies have their disadvantages. I have in this context used humour as a barometer of values. Because an ability to laugh at yourself is a rather delightful way of staying humble. And also when you don't take yourself seriously, it is very difficult to take others or other things very seriously and thereby there are no Holy Cows in existence and therefore, you have nothing that you will wage a war for.

Sillunnu Oru Kaadhal

Missing the woods for the trees

A Surya-Jyothika starrer, a few days before they tied the knot in real life. The build-up to the movie release was immense and the title song `Jillunnu oru kaadhal...' ably aided the efforts. But the movie....?

It is actually an interesting plot which begins with a young Jyothika (Jo from now on) who has dreams of a love marriage, getting into an arranged marriage with Surya. Six years later, they are deliriously happy and have a precocious kid too. And in the middle of this smooth life, Jo discovers Surya's old diary which tells her that Surya loved and actually tied the knot with another girl Ishu (The same name as his daughter's) during his college days. But the girl's MP father bashes up the newly married Surya and whisks his daughter away to an unknown place. A series of events and Surya weds Jo. Jo now goes off in search of Ishu, the lover girl and brings her back into her husband's life for one day! And then the movie ends somehow.

An interesting plot, which could've explored how the knowledge of bigamy affects the family- Does Jo feel threatened even if Ishu has never surfaced in Surya's life after the ill-fated wedding? Does she feel differently about her husband? Or alternately, the movie could have explored how Surya and Bhoomika (who plays Ishu) feel when they meet years later and their personalities are very different.

Instead we have a wife talking about how she wants her husband to `enjoy one day of his life with the girl he loved' because she understands what love is!!! And then turns the entire plot into some sentimental mish-mash, which is even more difficult to understand. I really cannot understand how a scriptwriter can so completely miss the point of the story and talk such unadulterated rot!!

Vadivelu's comedy is cheap, dirty and vulgar, not to mention unlaughable. Surya has managed to portray the two different personalities (carefree and irresponsible college rowdy to happy, responsible and caring family man) quite well, but with a pointless story the effort also becomes pointless. Jo looks really nice, her costumes are great and does a decent job as the wife but ditto as above. Bhoomika is puzzling and I can't even figure out if she acted well or not.

Music- loved the title song and Kummi Adi. Machhakari is Ok. The rest exist.

I went to the movie with less than zero expectations, but still came away irritated by the entire pointlessness of it all. Come on Tamil Cinema, make intelligent movies!

My Morning Adventure

I think my life is definitely taking an adventurous turn. Otherwise, why would I have strange encounters with jungle inmates within the walls of my home?

Time 6.00 a.m; I have just stepped off a formula 1 morning auto-rickshaw ride from the station. Feeling rather dazed I stepped into my house, dumped my bags in the hall and rushed off to make my morning cup of filter coffee. Mission accomplished,changed and a bit less bleary, I step back into the hall where I have left my precious cuppa and I am confronted by King Kong. I rub my eyes a bit and stare - well, it is not King Kong, but there definitely is this very large monkey sitting in the middle of my hall. I wish I had taken my coffee inside while I changed; now the monkey will probably drink it and wander hyperactively all around my house while I cower in my bedroom and try to think of someone to rescue me. I realised then the importance of having Blue Cross number on my mobile list. And I also think of what will happen when my brother walks in and confronts the monkey. I would give a monkey to see his face, but dash it if I am going to get out of my bedroom.

10 minutes pass and there is no sound. Cursing myself for leaving my balcony door wide open for all sorts of creatures to come wandering in, I cautiously peer out hoping that the monkey has gone away through the same balcony. No such luck, the monkey is still sitting in the hall with a wondering look on its face. At least, it doesn't seem to have touched my coffee. I felt slightly indignant, I really make very good coffee and here is this monkey sitting there, not even attempting to reach for a nice strong cuppa, conveniently placed right there.

I was slowly backing off and realised that the monkey was doing the same. We had eye contact and it seemed to me that the monkey was as uncertain of my intentions as I was of its. Well, it went off into my brother's bedroom. I quickly grabbed my coffee and dashed back into my bedroom. I really am obsessed with coffee the first thing in the morning and it was just about the right temperature now. Fortified, I peek back to look for the monkey. It had by then finished its inspection of the bedroom and was back in position in the hall,looking none too impressed. Ha,ha! I just loved the thought of saying this to my brother.

Meanwhile, monkeybhai(we were now very familiar and calling it `the monkey' somehow seemed strange) was now meandering in the direction of the kitchen. I followed at a cautious distance, racking my brains to figure out a way of opening the door between the kitchen and the balcony for monkeybhai's exit, without being attacked myself of course. But evidently monkeybhai was unimpressed by my kitchen also. He(I assume it is a he) had rattled my dustbin and seemed disgusted with the silence. I felt like defending myself - really I hadn't been in town or else the bin would've been full of....ummm...junk. What was I saying? That I junk the dustbin? Or that I manage to generate masses of trash when I cook? I felt both defensive and indignant.

And meanwhile monkeybhai had got into the spare room. In a flash, I rushed and closed the door behind him. I realised there was no latch outside and all the monkey had to do was to rattle the doorhandle and he could get out. But anyways, I felt slightly braver, dashed into the kitchen balcony and shouted for the watchman.

``Yes,madam''.

``Watchman,zara upar aao. Ghar ke andar bandar hai'' (Watchman, come upstairs, there is a monkey in the house).

``Woh,kaise?'' (Howz that?)

I thought it was a singularly stupid question but since he was to be my rescuer,contented myself with ``Upar aake dekho'' (Come upstairs and see)

I peered through the window into the spare room. The monkey was sitting there with a bewildered look. It probably was one of those unfortunate creatures that had ventured out of the trees of Kalakshetra into the residential area behind and was as much at a loss being confronted by strange human beings.

The bell rang - two watchmen had come up. I couldn't suppress a slight grin. One of them stayed back to lecture me on the eating habits of monkeys, while the other more practical one cautiously opened the spare room door. The monkey dashed back to the hall and attempted to resume its post at the middle, but the watchman wasn't having any. Shoo,shoo and he managed to get the poor creature out at the balcony. It sat there on the parapet for a moment, watching with sad eyes and then jumped down. Thankful it had disappeared from my house, I quickly bolted the balcony and said encouragingly to the other watchman ``The monkey is probably in the house downstairs now. Why don't you check?'' Both of them went off downstairs to see but apparently ours was the only home to be graced with monkeybhai's visit.

My brother just then walked in and I told him about my morning adventure, slightly embellished to make me look much braver than I had been - till I realised I was actually narrating conversations between me and the monkey and my brother was grinning as I came to the last part. ``So the monkey came to visit you, is it?'' He was highly amused as was anyone else whom I narrated this story to.

Well, all I can say is that my life is taking an adventurous turn. Otherwise, why would I have strange encounters with jungle inmates within the walls of my home?