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Showing posts from 2013

Arbhaat short film club: 8th session

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The 8th session of Arbhaat Short film club took place on the 7th. The theme was 'Gender' . Even though I had received the programme note beforehand, I had not had the time to go through it. So when I turned up at NFAI, I had my own preconceived notions about what type of films might be screened. Gender - the very word evokes a dichotomy - male and female, man and woman. I was expecting something on these very lines - gender discrimination, female foeticide or violence on women, maybe. I had even wondered about the gender roles in India, juxtaposed against that in the rest of the world. But the films were entirely different, and delightfully so. Instead of taking on these issues, which nonetheless important, the films touched a different range of issues altogether, which, though concerned intimately with the theme of gender, are hardly at the forefront of discussions on it. But before, a short film on the life of Pandit Vishnu Digambar Paluskar was shown. It was a go

Desi Pasta

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  My Doodle recipe is a part of Easy Doodle Recipe contest at BlogAdda.com in association with TastyKhana.com

Cheese garlic bread

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I had so much fun drawing the first doodle, that I finally succumbed to the urge and made this. My Doodle recipe is a part of Easy Doodle Recipe contest at BlogAdda.com in association with TastyKhana.com

cake in a cup

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Aaditee taught me how to make cake in a cup. Here is the recipe: My Doodle recipe is a part of Easy Doodle Recipe contest at BlogAdda.com in association with TastyKhana.com

Arbhaat short film club: 7th session

After a lukewarm 6th screening, I was looking forward to the 6th screening, hoping that the theme would be more cohesive this time. Though there was no single theme this time, the films themselves were quite good. Some of my favourites: Beyond the window Israel, 2011 Chen Shumowitz One of my favourite films so far. Yoni and Shira, two young girls, are seen kissing through the window of the family home by Yoni's mother. She is quite upset, but her turmoil is nothing compared to Yoni and Shira's trepidation. Yoni is reluctant to go home, because she is sure that her mother is going to berate her, possibly beat her. Yoni is not sure of how her mother will react, but she is sure that her mother is going to be very angry. This drives a wedge of sort between the two girls. But when Yoni does go home, her mother does not refer to the incident at all. In a tenuous silence, she serves Yoni dinner, and the two women sit side by side, their brittle smiles identical, making an eff

Arbhaat short film club: 4th session

On the fourth screening of Arbhaat, the theme was Rebel. Instead of putting in the program as I usually do, I will stick to the films I loved the most. Vitthal India, 2009 Director: Vinoo Choliparambil Length: 24 minutes Vitthal is angry. His grandfather has passed away, and being the eldest grandson, he has been forced to shave his head. His anger is the focal point of the film. The reactions, those of Vitthal and the rest of the characters, stem from this rage. A delightful film that will first leave you numb, then sympathetic, but angry. You want to admonish Vitthal for his thoughtlessness, but you know that he is suffering. You want to protect him from the world, but you know that it would be wrong. You want to wrap him up in cotton wool and expose him to harsh realities of the world. This conflict regarding the main character drives the movie effectively. We have been Vitthal - petulant, hurting, sad and lonely, even in the crowds.

Arbhaat Short Film club: 3rd session

Arbhaat Short Film club had its third screening on 27th June. I was initially hesitant to go - the sky was leaden, overcast and torrential downpour seemed imminent. The weather, however cooperated and I found myself in the NFAI auditorium at 6:30. The theme of this session was 'cityscapes'. I have often thought that cities have personalities . First was a set of 3 movies, black and white and shot in the years, 1956, 1958 and 1959 respectively. Warsaw '56 Poland, 1956 Director: Jerzy Bossak, Jaroslaw Brzozowski Length: 7 minutes I loved this film. Truly. There is a poignancy in the narration and the images of the film that I cannot forget. After the bombing in Warsaw, Poland, buildings are still in ruins. But people continue to inhabit these dangerous places, making it their own. A mother is happy because her child cannot yet walk - a small topple can be dangerous here. The building has precipices, treacherous ledges. The women resort to tying their children to

The Wander Girls

My summer has not been uneventful. I have been reading books, which is like living decades in a few hours and I have been interning at a new start-up The Wander Girls . I am a content intern, so I basically write travelogues and stuff. What I like about The Wander Girls is that - a)The name - pretty self explanatory. Girls that wander. Hah. b)It is a women-only travel based company. They arrange trips and mixers for women. This is a part of the tourism industry that is not much developed. Women need escape from their lives every now and then. They have to get out of that kitchen and leave the washing in the machine. They shouldn't need to worry if the milk boils over or the dog pees in the middle of the drawing room. They needn't hear the litany of work related and study-related problems from their husbands and children. They need to escape from their surly bosses who are grumpy every single day for no reason. And The Wander Girls provide this opportunity. Here is to The W

Love and Lokpal

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Keeping in the spirit of 'A room of her own', I succubmed to the phenomenon of 'A book of her own'. Indian writers are churning out new books every week. Most of the books in the market fall in the IIT/IIM category, popularised by Chetan Bhagat. They contain travails of love and live and offer a commentary on the world from the point of view of today's youth. Nobody can vouch for the language or the content, but one thing is certainly true. These books instill the habit of reading in english in Indian youth. These are the stories of the people themselves. They have the same insights, concerns and ideologies and hence, these books become favourites of the students and young professionals. The 2011 Lokpal Bill movement was, in many ways, a turning point for me. I had begun my FYBA. I was reading classics and books about Indian history. I was writing about the politics in India. I was immersed in a world where the need for change was glaring - I could see that, but

Pu. La. Deshpande : Punekar

Disclaimer: This is a translation of  the Punekar part of the essay, 'Mumbaikar, Punekar and Nagpurkar' by Gaurav Sabnis. This essay was originally written by the celebrated Marathi author Purushottam Laxman Deshpande, popularly known as PuLa. Here is the link to the original post. Kudos to the author for the translation. I love it! http://gauravsabnis.blogspot.in/2006/10/mumbaikar-and-punekar.html Ok, so now... do you want to become a Punekar? Go ahead. We have no objections. But our advice is... think again. Do you really want to? OK, if you insist then your preparation needs to be thorough. And once you are fully prepared, then being a Punekar is as enjoyable an experience as any. Firstly, do not nurse the notion that you are inferior to anyone in any aspect of life. You are not. You are a superior being. Secondly, learn to express dissent on every issue possible. I mean seriously, stop thinking about minor things like who you are, how educated or uneducated you

Midnight's children by Salman Rushdie

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After a first disappointing read, I set my sights on Midnight's Children , by Salman Rushdie . What can I say? I was rendered speechless by this stunning novel. The characters leapt out of the pages - these are people I know, people I have seen and those I have heard about. Saleem Sinai, the protagonist is one of the midnight's children... Born on the stroke of midnight on 15th of August 1947, his fate is entwined with that of India. He is affected by all the major events of India, and he is, indirectly and directly, responsible for many events that shape the destiny of the country. The novel spans sixty three years, starting with the grandfather of the protagonist and addresses four generations of the family. The intricacy of the novel leaves one spellbound and Rushdie's singular writing style is just...awesome. I will definitely be re-reading this novel in the future, dwelling on the characters and the events. It makes for a wonderful, wonderful read.

What Young India Wants - Chetan Bhagat

I launched off my reading list for this year with What young India wants by Chetan Bhagat . I led me to the conclusion that India, and Chetan Bhagat both have no idea of what they want. Oh no, I am not criticising the book. It was lucid, had easy language but had none of the perspicuity of thought or the depth that other tomes, like The Argumentative Indian (Amartya Sen)  or We, the People ( Nani Palkhivala ) possess. I do not dislike Chetan Bhagat. Indeed I do not. His books have compelling stories that seem to resonate with the youth. Last year, I was enrolled in an introductory program to the UPSC in one of the coaching institutes in Pune. We were asked to discuss our favourite works of literature and to my horror, half the people had a Chetan Bhagat book as their favourite novel. Makes me wonder if the novel, as a genre has become so stilted, stagnant that the young people read only the literature that has the emotional depth of a rainwater puddle. These books are windows to

Arbhaat Short Film Club - 2nd screening

Though there have been only two screenings, I have come to love the ASFC. I love the short, snazzy films that keep me hooked, provoke me and challenge me. We watched many films this time (2nd may), but these are the ones that appealed to me the most: Glimmer Iran, 2012 Director: Omid Abdollahi Length: 18:30 min Summary: The aged optometrist keeps his shop open every day, hoping for his last customer to come and pick up their spectacles. There is a subtle irony in this film, that runs through it's entire length. The optometrist wants to close his shop because of his weak eyesight. He opens the shop every day, waters a lone plant on a stool, whiles time away, sends away potential customer and generally, spends his time waiting. He then embarks on a journey of sorts, to find the woman who had ordered the spectacles. In a twist, he finds her at a hospital, where she has gone blind. He returns home, to his beautiful oasis of flowers and plants on the terrace. The simplistic

Reading list: 2013

The exams are over and done with, and now is the time to read! Seriously, summer for me means long, lazy afternoons spent lying on the cool floor of my room, with the curtains drawn and the fan squeaking above me. So here is my reading list for this vacations (depending on the availability of books) and for the rest of the year: 1. The train to Pakistan - Khushwant Singh 2. Millennium series: The girl with the dragon tattoo - Stieg Larsson 3. Millennium series: The girl who played with fire - Stieg Larsson 4. Millennium series: The girl who kicked the hornets' nest - Stieg Larsson 5. The catcher in the rye - J.D. Salinger 6. Patriots and Partisans - Ramchandra Guha 7. Makers of Modern India - Ramchandra Guha 8. What young India wants - Chetan Bhagat 9. Glimpses of world history - Jawaharlal Nehru 10. Narcopolis - Jeet Thayil 11. Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie 12. Enchantress of Florence - Salman Rushdie 13. Those pricey Thakur girls - Anuja C

Arbhaat Short Film Club

An initiative of Umesh Kulkarni and Girish Kulkarni and their productions, Arbhaat Nirmitee, Arbhaat Short Film Club was launched today at the NFAI amongst a star studded audience. The three films that were show today simply left me spellbound. The first was the iconic short film made by Mani Kaul, Before my eyes . The beauty of the images, the compelling sounds! Umesh described it as a film to be 'experienced', and rightly so. Nancy Lesh Kulkarni, the cellist from the movie was present for the inauguration today. Her cello in the film is a beautifully haunting sound that merges seamlessly into the seemingly still vistas of Kashmir. The second film was 'Three of Us', directed by Umesh Kulkarni. I loved this short film. Indeed, I could think about nothing else for the rest of the day and I think that it will continue to haunt me. The third and the final was 'Kaatal', the short film that recently won many national awards. It is seemingly casual, but the st

Demasiados Cocineros

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Me gustaría montar un restaurante. Esta un producto de ese sueño.

Arvind Kejriwal

There is something about this man that I absolutely LOVE! He has been on an indefinite fast in Delhi from 23rd of this month. I trawl through the news clips and the photos to look at this man, this veritable giant of a man for whom, nothing is insurmountable. I know. Perhaps I exaggerate. Hyperbole has been a particular weakness of mine. But I do admire this man. He is the face of the new India, whose leaders know what they are talking about. Who make more than ritualistic, customary visits to regions of conflict, poverty laden households and areas hit by calamities. He is a man who knows . P.S. - My mother is terribly worried about him because he has severe diabetes. So take care, Mr. Kejriwal!

85th Regatta and some thoughts

COEP's boating extravaganza, 'Regatta' is known to every self-respecting collegian. The fest is extraordinary due to its unique nature. No other college in Pune, as far as I know, can boast of a boat club that competes at national level. Or a boat club at all. So last Sunday, (10 March), we reached COEP just fifteen minutes before the events were to start. The stone bleachers were full and people were even crouched on the rocky river bank. We managed to find places to stand as the first events began. The sun was low in the sky and in the evening light, sleek sculls and kayaks and other boats (that I can't remember the names of, but were nevertheless, quite beautiful) streaked on the sedate, sparkling river. I was very much impressed by the synchronisation of guys in the two person kayak. The movement of their arms was pure poetry as they raced. Their movements were the epitome of grace. The theme of the evening was 'Women empowerment'. A noble and a pertine

Crime and Punishment

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My first tryst with Russian Literature was the novel, One day in the life of Ivan Denisovich by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn .  It chronicles a day in the life of Ivan, a prisoner who is serving in a Soviet labour camp. The slim volume was quite evocative, in terms of the prose and the plot. I moved on to Anna Karenina , the novel by Leo Tolstoy. I could not make peace with it. Anna Karenina did not appeal to me in the way that it should have - by all accounts it is a great classic. But maybe I think I'll read it after a few days and it will make sense to me. That is something I have observed. To an immature mind, a great book may seem ridiculous. But when read at the right time, it rises to sublime heights. The first time I read 'Gone with the wind', I hated it. The story was garbled, the characters shallow. But I read the same book three years later and then I saw it in a new light. The circumstances in America and a deeper understanding and acceptance of peo

Birds of feather

Birds of Feather flock together A crow surrounded by peacocks – a deep abyss of darkness coated with the varnish of jealously flits amongst the iridescent eyes of gold, blue, green unblinking and staring. He crows. They crow along with him. A stray feather plucked off an unsuspecting wing, another surrendered by reverence for the scratchy crows – so simple yet apparently filled with meaning and the secret of life. Rubies, emeralds, gold dust and diamond sparkles on the sharp, black beak and the circlet of holiness on his head. He pecks the ground. They pretend to find fat, juicy worms, slurp in delight as he closes his eyes in a state of supreme satisfaction. More feathers, more unblinking eyes perch on his short stubby tail. He flies away one day and they watch him. The long, silken tokens of mental servility hang off his dark tail as he flaps his wings, far above them. They come off as he traverses the miles. Diamonds and dust fall off the slick texture of his wings

First rain

The first rain of the year. It's not quite surprising for the rain to drop in unexpectedly before the summer. As I write, the drops are pattering away steadily, the smell of the soil permeates the air and I long for things I know not.  I lean out of the window and the drops fall on me, rolling down my cheeks in a cool embrace of reassurance in the face of the oppressive heat of the day.  The wind is more playful and he lifts the white and red curtains of my window, and with him, he brings the dreams of the earth. The smell...I could keep inhaling the smell of the arid, parched soil cooled by the rain. There cannot be a more potent harbinger of optimism... The scent clings to my body and my hair and will come to me in my dreams and tell me, that after a long, hot day, the rain will come.

Jane Austen and P&P

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Pride and Prejudice turned 200 this January. It is hard to imagine that a story set in rural England 200 years ago could have this much sway over the minds of thousands of women, but Pride and Prejudice does just that. I believe that P&P is the original chick-lit, but in a language and a form far superior to those we have today. (not owned by me) Pride and Prejudice marries two of my most favourite characteristics in romance novels. The first is the heroine - Obstinate, headstrong girl , as rightly called by Lady Catherine De Borough. And the enigmatic, slightly rude hero with a heart of gold. All in all, it resembles a firangi version of a Bollywood movie. Upper class and lower class protagonists - an excellent conflict if there was one - hatred that blossoms into love - much more entertaining than the sappy stories - and clever quips and biting dialogues. But there is a freshness of the prose that I feel our films can hardly aspire to. But with the changi

Wada pav

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There is something to be said about wada-pav. It is the ultimate comfort food for me, right in the line behind pani puri and warm mugacha dali chi khichadi .The crackle of the wada, the hard, crunchy exterior of the pav, the hot steam emanating from its deep yellow interior. The dry garlic chutney and the tamarind paste, the deep fried chillies that have crystals of salt stuck to it like minuscule diamonds... (Do not own the image!) There are very few places in Pune which prepare wada pav according to my taste. Joshi Wadewale, the erstwhile eatery famous for its wada pavs has disappointed me quite often with stone cold pavs and lukewarm wadas. No other famous joints have managed to tempt me. Indeed, there is only one place in Pune which can make my heart sing and bring tears of joy to my eyes. The wada pav is always heavenly and wonderful. Almost always, it is hot. If not, the taste makes up for the temperature. And that place is (drumroll, please), Bipin Snacks It is

Pani Puri

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I love food. My parents may not agree because I complain a lot about many items, but on the whole, I enjoy eating. The list of my favourite foods is quite long. But among the top contenders is pani puri. It is simply engaging, and delightfully so. I crave it often. I dream of  the puri rising out of the waters with a calm swish, but the composure is quite misleading. I know that the ragada is lying in wait to enchant and entertain. (do not own the image) First, there is that crunch of the puri...It rocks your heart and even while you are trying to bite into that puri, you smile and laugh and you feel an absurd pleasure. Then the puri bursts into your mouth and fills it with the tamarind and chilli water. It's sweet, spicy and cold. You can taste a hint of pudeena and then it's gone but it lingers like an afterthought. Then comes the ragada. It is coarse and large but warm. Sweet and spicy. Hot and cold. Crunchy and soft. It is a gastronomic pleasure. The delight of a g

Tilgul ghya!

Sankranti is not supposed to be a 'good ' festival. Babies and newly married couples do not celebrate it as their first 'festival'. Instead, they wait for gudi padwa, the festival marking the beginning the new year of the hindu calendar. But for the rest, it is one of the most auspicious event of the year. It marks the transition of the sun into the northen hemisphere and is celebrated across India. The names differ, however. In the north, it is called Lohri, in Assam as Bihu, in Gujrat as Uttarayan, Himachal as Maagh Saaja etc. It is a festival of harvest and prayers. In some parts of Maharashtra, kites are flown. But the cinema has popularised it and now, kites are flown across the country. Black is worn and we exchange halwa (sesame seed coated with crystallised sugar), til wadis (cakes of jaggery and sesame seeds) and gul polis (jaggery-stuffed bread). I personally love gul-poli as no other. It is flat and slightly hard because of the jaggery inside. I slathe

Shadows and smoke

Being a woman is hard. Being an Indian woman is harder still. I am not a hardcore feminist who demands that 'history' is 'her story' too (which is etymologically incorrect) I am, however a person raised in a household that has a strong matriarchal sensitivity. I have been raised to give my opinion in matters that I find pertinent to me or close to my heart. Never have my parents shown preference for my brother over me or treated me with a callousness that stems out of indifference and ignorance. There have been times in my life when I have discovered that equality to be specious. As I grow up, I am supposed to take my place in the kitchen with my other cousins on family functions while my male relatives discuss cricket and politics while lounging on the sofa. My female relatives are highly qualified professionals, but still they have to cook, wash and clean after the others. This is tradition, they say. I refuse to accept this. We tilt the balance in favour of mal