The whole country is rejoicing at India's victory in the World Cup semi-final. Why? Coz we beat Pakistan! Emotions really run high when India plays Pakistan. Facebook messages ran amok with jubilation when India won. "Chak de India" and "Yippee!" and "Go Dhoni's Dashers! Go!". It seemed as if the World Cup had been won already!

Except one message which read "Take that for 26/11 and more". I thought it was in poor taste. People did ask the person not to spread hate. But he/she was unrepentant. Will winning a cricket match assuage the hurt and set right all that has gone wrong between our two nations? I always believed that games and culture can actually build bridges and bring people together. Let a game remain a game and let sportsmanship prevail.

____________________________________________________________________________________

Some days back, when I went over to my sister's place, my 13 year old niece invited me to stay over for a 'girl's sleepover' since her dad was touring. I said I couldn't since I have a husband at home and needed to get back. She didn't reply but I guess it did not go down well with her.

My sister later reported that my niece had a complaint. She said, "I think Chitti likes R uncle (the husband) more than me. She's not loyal to me anymore!". My poor baby! I went over the same day and ragged her about it. Each has their own place and is irreplaceable!

____________________________________________________________________________________

On Thursday, we were busy with a team meeting, when 5 men in white khadi shirts and vesti barged into our office. Addressing my boss, the oldest of the lot said: "Saar...Ai yam the Congress blah blah committee chairman. Ai yam ye vury honourable man"....

The fellows had come asking for money and assured us that they would 'stand by us'. My boss sat them down, had a nice chat about sundry things and refused the money. Smilingly he said what was in effect 'Do your worst. I'm not giving one naya paisa'. The fellows had to go on their way.

When I narrated the incident at home, my concerned husband retorted:"Better be careful. What if they throw acid at you?!"

____________________________________________________________________________________

We hang our washed clothes to dry on the open terrace of our apartment block. Everybody does. Each flat has been assigned two lines where they can hang their clothes. The down side is that clothes get stolen on a regular basis. I have so far lost one rajai (which I had hung out to air) and two lovely handloom dupattas. Today I discovered that two more items are missing. A T-shirt and capris which are well washed and soft and which I love wearing at home.

If there is something that I detest, it is a thief. Only the lowest scumbag would take something for which they have not worked and which is not theirs. Really!

P.S.: Did I go overboard with the pictures folks?

There is intellectual bankruptcy, moral bankruptcy, spiritual bankruptcy. I thought I would use my 70th post to rant about creative bankruptcy.

Way back when we had only Doordarshan by way of television entertainment, we eagerly waited for the commercials as much as the 'sponsored network programmes'. Some of the ads were so well crafted that I still remember their tag lines. Remember 'Neighbours' Envy, Owners' Pride' and the devil in Onida? Or 'If you have the inclination, we have the time' from HMT? My favourite was the Tata Steel ad with the tag line ' Ispat bhi hum banate hain' (we also make steel). The English versions had these sub tags like 'We make champions....we also make steel' and 'We make the nation's dreams come true....we also make steel'. Made me swell with pride for sure! I found the hindi version on youtube. Take a look:



Some of the commercials were not that great. But the jingles were very catchy. Here's the well known tune from Lifebouy:



What I'm getting at is that the product and the commercial were distinct. There was either a tag line or a jingle which you could immediately associate with the product. And it was total recall after that. Look at me, its been nearly 2 decades, and I still remember the ads with fondness.

These days, we have only sad excuses for commercials. It seems that creative juices among ad agencies have totally dried up. To the extent that the best they can come up with are stylised remixes of old Bollywood numbers. The worst offender is of course Coca Cola. The last 3 commercials they ran, all had rehashed, remixed Hindi songs. Here they are in no particular order:

The Diwali ad - song ripped off: Jaata Kahan Hai Diwane (Movie: CID)


The Invisible Bottle - song ripped off: Tum Jo Mil Gaye Ho (Movie: Hanste Zakham)



The Shadow ad - song ripped off: Aaj Ki Raat (Movie: Anamika)



The Brrr Commercial - song ripped off: Yeh Ladka Zara Sa (Movie: Love Story)



Not to put Coca Cola too much in the dock, here's another, from Moods Condoms. This one is really dreadful. The original from the movie Amar Prem is a Kishore Kumar classic. Rajesh Khanna brings out rueful disillusionment and acceptance of heartbreak so beautifully. And to use it in a condom ad?! Is there a correlation there?



Seriously! Is creativity dead? Back in my day - the pre mobile, pre internet and pre satellite tv days - we could put together better commercials in an event called 'Ad Zap' at college festivals! And we weren't even studying advertising.

Viewer / customer tastes have changed no doubt. And people's attention spans have shrunk. Maybe it is just that ad agencies think viewers' tastes have sunk so low that only some Bollywood connection can revive it. What a tragedy. Think of the joy of the Hamara Bajaj commercial and compare it to the hermaphrodite type model of the Aaj Ki Raat Coke commercial. Sigh! What a fall there has been my countrymen.

We're on the Young World Quiz circuit again! Today we took the train from Calicut to Cochin (sorry, but I prefer the old names)where the quiz will take place tomorrow. I'm now going to rant about my experience on the train journey. You may think I'm totally heartless after you read this post.

Whenever I travel, I pray to God, that seats near me are not occupied by kids. Not the cute, cuddly, infants that sleep angelically on their mothers' laps. I mean the 2-3 year olds that can walk, talk and throw tantrums. And the good Lord intermittently tests my endurance. Which He did today.

A lady, traveling with her two children, took the seat opposite us. A boy and a girl. I looked apprehensively at the boy. I know what boys that age are capable of by way of tantrum throwing. I once traveled with a boy, who stamped his foot and rolled about on the floor while his mother looked on in helpless embarrassment.

I need not have worried. The boy behaved impeccably. It was the little girl who was the star of the show.

She began with the usual kiddy babble and curious looking over the seat backs at other passengers. All fine. Till her mother took away something that she wanted. Then began the shrieking and screaming. I swear to God. I never knew something that small could emit a sound that loud!

The little girl's mother did try to quieten her. At which the child only yelled what sounded like 'Adikenda! Adikenda!' I assumed it meant 'Don't beat me' in Malayalam.

I spent the next four hours trying to drown out the sound of that shrieking by turning on my MP3 player. But the sound penetrated even the melodious strains of Mohammad Rafi. I tried Zandu Balm. Didn't work. Finally, I could take it no more. I left my seat and stood at the door of the coach, watching the countryside whiz past till we reached Cochin.

I'm a person who likes kids. I am! I've been around tons of kids, baby sat cousins and nieces. Kids generally like me. But this little girl? She could patent that shriek as a means of torture.

Still, I have no hard feelings for the little girl. God bless her. But I do wish her mother finds a way to stop her incessant shrieking!

This is a new commercial of Indian Railways doing the rounds in cyber space. Produced by Nirvana Films and directed by Prakash Verma of the ZooZoo fame. It is a slickly produced commercial and makes use of the classic song 'Rail Gaadi' rendered by Ashok Kumar in the film Ashirwad. Here is the commercial:


Most people I know have liked and enjoyed this video. I did not. Why? The tag line for the video is 'Desh Ka Mail' - with a play on the word 'mail'. Mail could denote the train or, in Hindi, it also means 'meeting' or 'similarity', thereby indicating that Indian Railways actually brings different people together.

The image of a train, to me, is a metaphor. Of different people traveling to one destination. Of meeting as strangers and parting as friends. Of a single thread that connects diverse lives. Except that the human train in this video is devoid of women and children. They have been reduced to spectators.

I am a Railway child. My father was a senior bureaucrat with Ministry of Railways. I grew up in a railway colony. Our social life was structured around the railway club and other railway families. And life in the railways is all about appreciating diversity. In the colony where I lived, our immediate neighbours to the right were Kannadigas, to the left were Hyderabadi Muslims, and in front lived an Oriya family. We moved every 5th or 6th year to a new place, a new city, a new State. My sister and I loved every move, learned new languages and imbibed new cultures.

Having unconsciously learned lessons about inclusion, I cannot stomach this video. The Indian Railways transports 20 million passengers daily. At least half these passengers must be women and children. And yet, like in so many other domains, they have been excluded here too. One comment in youtube questioned "veryyy cool ad .. although i wonder y only males were included as a part of the रेल गाङी ?! :(". The reply to this comment is shocking in its insensitivity "The Ladies compartment is getting ready, gone for a makeover... "

Damn this testosterone driven train for being the metaphor of Indian society!

I traveled back from Mumbai last night by Air India. I know I keep posting about my fear of flying. But I simply must write about this. I was less than satisfied at the overall flying experience I had last night. The aircraft was badly in need of maintenance.

For starters, the interiors were dirty. The overhead cabins for example were streaked with dirt and grime. How much does it take to clean it? Then, in the section where I was seated, the AC was really noisy and there was a dull roar which I heard throughout the flight. That, coupled with the turbulence, did nothing to soothe my jangled nerves (did I mention I am a nervous flyer at the best of times?).

You know the panel above your seat from where the oxygen mask is supposed to pop out in case of emergency? Well the panel near about seat no. 10 was hanging in mid air. I mean hanging like how a switchboard panel would hang if you unscrewed it. The airhostess did try to pound it back into its slot. But it kept dropping back.


Then of course there were the assorted holes in the carpet, loose back rests that suddenly shifted backwards even though you did not push back, and broken arm rests.

The flight ticket cost Rs. 6093. But there was absolutely no value for money. When we landed, the air hostess did her usual announcement, ending with 'If you choose to fly Air India again, we would be happy to serve you". Are you kidding me?! After this experience, why would i CHOOSE to fly Air India?!

Last month we went to an exhibition held at the Chennai Trade Center. We had been toying with the idea of buying a wardrobe since I needed more storage space. The exhibition was selling furniture on discount. We went to the Zuari stall and after much deliberation chose a nice four door wardrobe and a dresser. Purchases over Rs. 5000 had an attractive "buy for so-much and get this free" offer. And so we also got a side table for free. The Zuari guys said that they needed about 10 days before they could make the delivery. Since we had to dispose of our old cupboard and dresser, this suited us fine. So we paid up the full amount, took our receipt and invoice and headed home pleased with the purchases we had made. That was on 7th June, 2010.

That was the beginning of a month of sheer torture and extreme stress.

About 12 days after we had made the purchase, I received a call from the dealer. One U.M.Retail Pvt. Ltd informing that the items were ready and would be delivered in a day or two. My husband and I quickly made arrangements to dispose the existing furniture. So there I was, sans cupboard, with all my clothes heaped on the bed. My toiletry items were dumped on a stool with a 100 year old mirror propped against the wall (the mirror is another story).

Two more days passed by without a peep from M/s U.M.Retail Pvt Ltd. So my husband called and they assured him that the furniture would be delivered that day itself. Another three days passed by. On 25th June, I called the shop again. I was told it MAY be delivered that day. I lost my cool and gave the guy a yelling. The guy said he would check with their warehouse and get back to me in half an hour.

Never trust a vendor when he says he will call back. An hour went by and he didn't call. I got angrier by the minute. I called back and gave the guy a dressing down. "I have paid full money for this furniture. That means you have my goods in your possession and are willfully not giving it to me. That is a clear case of theft and fraud. I will report you to police". This seemed to cow the down the guy and he gave me the number of their distribution manager Robin. I called Robin and once again faced ambiguous assurances. I had to do an action replay of the previous dressing down. Robin finally admitted that the wardrobe was not in stock and they would not be able to deliver the furniture before Monday.

That was a bit of a problem since I was leaving town on Sunday and my husband would have to hold the fort till Thursday. Easier said than done. He does not handle stress or vendors very well. Outlining a strategy, I told him to use sheer aggression to get our work done. "Keep calling them every hour. Use different phone numbers. If you're calling Robin at one time, call U.M.Retailers next. Harass them into sending the furniture". With that, I left the city.

My husband and I were in touch over phone to discuss developments. He was forced to remain at home in anticipation of the furniture's arrival. On 28th June there seemed to be a glimmer of hope. It appeared that the furniture would be delivered that evening. But alas, our hopes were dashed to the ground. Robin called me to say that the stock had still not arrived and hence delivery that day would not be possible. I told him that I was traveling and he should speak directly to my husband. Robin quailed at the suggestion. "No madam! I'm afraid to speak to him. Please inform him yourself!!" Stress levels hit an all time high when I delivered the news to my husband. He had taken leave that day and put off some visa processing work for this.

After several hundred more phone calls and still more (empty) threats, the furniture finally arrived on 29th June at 9pm. Oh Joyful day! But wait... A new shock awaited us. The dresser mirror was broken.

My husband refused to go back to yelling and threatening Robin on the phone. So I had to take over. Another 6 days followed filled with daily phone calls and entreaties. Sometimes there was no labour to make the delivery and sometimes no truck was taking a route that would bring a replacement dresser to our home. The dresser was finally delivered today at 6pm. We're hoping it will be fitted tomorrow.

I don't understand what went wrong. We paid full money upfront. Had all the required paper work. Had purchased from a reputed company. Despite all this we were practically held ransom by the dealer. At every step their inefficiency was reinforced. I must have spent at least Rs. 1000 in phone calls alone! And I'm not counting the mental stress and harassment we faced due to all this.

I do not know whether Zuari is aware about how unprofessional U.M.Retailers Pvt Ltd is in its dealings with customers. I plan to get in touch with the PR department and put in a written complaint about this dealer.

Hopefully tomorrow, this time, my dresser would have been fitted and life can go back to normal. But, like Robin said during one of the innumerable calls I made "Invoice No. 132? I will never forget it!" Neither will I Robin. Neither will I.

Ok, so the title is cliched. In my defense, it is close to midnight and I am musing!

I learned from a show I was watching tonight that Shilpa Shetty is a 'trained Bharatnatyam dancer'. I remember reading somewhere that even Lara Dutta is a 'trained Bharatnatyam dancer'. Apparently the ice maiden Aishwarya also lays claims to the same distinction. Dance requires application, dedication and a whole lot of self discipline. So I wonder - can this really be true? Call me prejudiced, but I'm pretty sure the ladies are fibbing. Being known as a 'classical dancer' probably lends credibility to their otherwise bump and grind dancing style. I mean, I could also claim to be a 'trained Bharatnatyam dancer'. I took classes as a child. It is another story that everytime the master arrived, I locked myself into the bathroom and refused to come out till he left!

********

NDTV good times airs a show called 'Cooking isn't rocket science'. The show is presented by 'one of Britain's most popular chefs Manju Malhi' - not my words, this is what the channel website claims. Now this so called popular chef is dreadfully annoying with an affected British accent that simply grates on my nerves. If you ask me, the show is really a cheap imitation of 'Kylie Kwong Cooking With Heart and Soul'. This Manju woman dresses like Kylie, wears similar spectacles and even has similar red highlights in her hair!!

********

I saw this Telugu movie 'Ye Maya Chesavey' last night. It is the Telugu version of the Tamil film 'Vinnaithandi Varuvaya'. Made by Gautam Vasudev Menon, the Telugu version stars Nagachaitanya (son of actor Nagarjuna) and a new girl called Samantha. My feelings about this movie feature on my status message on facebook also. But it it bears repeating - what a drag! For starters, the lead pair cannot act. Second, the chemistry between them is conspicious by its absence. I suppose the music was ok. But I was so irritated by the movie that I didn't notice. So, without wasting more time and space on this washout of a movie, my verdict: Learn from my mistakes. Avoid!

Javed Akhtar must be real proud parent. I know I would be if I had a talented son like Farhaan Akhtar. The guy is so multifaceted - can direct, act and sing! So what brought on this gush fest? The spouse and I saw 'Karthik Calling Karthik' last night. Our collective verdict is that we liked the film.

The story, set in Mumbai, deals with the life of Karthik, a young professional working in a construction company. In the first thirty minutes of the film, he's this loser who gets bullied by all and sundry. He's in love with Shonali (Deepika Padukone), an architect who works in the same company but doesn't notice him. Then his life undergoes a transformation, when, strangely, he receives a telephone call from himself! I'll stop here with the story - don't want to spoil it for you. Its not a thriller or a murder mystery, but the story does have a twist.

Farhaan Akhtar owns this film. I mean the guy is superb. Apart from the fact that he's totally yummylicious, he's a talented actor. I don't know how he does it, but he gets Karthik's body language absolutely right. Look out for this scene where he's dressed in a black suit, saunters confidently into his office and proceeds to get his life back. The sauntering is total perfection!

Deepika Padukone is improving with each film that she does. I love the characterisation of Shonali. For starters, she's an architect. Imagine what a breath of fresh air that is, when all film heroines are expected to do by way of a career, is look breathtakingly beautiful and gaze worshipfully at the leading man. Second, she's a girl about town. Smokes, drinks and frequents pubs (at ease Mr. Muthalik! This is just a movie) and isn't considered a slut for doing so. She's a level headed girl trying to make a career for herself on her own terms. Applause!

Of course there are the occasional googlies and boo-boos. But if you can overlook these, the movie is good and worth seeing.

While on the subject of movie watching, I thought I'd use some space to rant about 'cinema hall etiquette'. Agreed the movie revolved around telephones. And agreed that audience being engaged is good. But does that have to be demonstrated by NOT putting your mobile on silent mode? Also, I'm baffled why someone would spend time on the mobile when you've spent money to come watch a film? Like this PYT that was sitting next to me. She spent some 30 minutes just sending and receiving sms-es-after having arrived late. Then the movie got interesting I suppose coz she stopped. (Way to go Farhaan!).

Before I sign off on this post - do look out for a Shyam Benegal movie called 'Well done Abba'. We saw the trailor during the interval and it looks promising. It has the same feel as 'Welcome to Sajjanpur'. Its set in Hyderabad (my home town) and seems to have captured the local Hyderabadi flavour. So I'm going to watch it for sure.

(Phew! Glad I got this post written. Its been a month since I wrote anything and was getting worried that The Muse had left for good.)

My parents have come to spend Diwali with us this year. My mother, in her usual over the top style, wanted to buy clothes for all of us. This was immediately followed by an almighty row, instigated by yours truly, on this 'conspicuous consumption' and ostentatious expenditure. All for nothing. My mother dug in her heels and refused to budge. So we left at 2pm for T.Nagar, the epicenter of Chennai's frenzied Diwali shopping.

T.Nagar is a bustling market area in Chennai city - and I use the term 'bustling' conservatively. The area has major sari showrooms, gold shops, home accessories, kitchen wares, vegetable vendors apart from permanent traffic snarls and a sea of humanity weaving through the traffic. I usually get serious panic attacks when I am in the vicinity. Today being Vijaydashmi - one of the most auspicious days of the Hindu calendar, the crowd had increased tenfold.

Enter me, my sister, and my parents, heading for the RmKV showroom, one of the famous sari retailers in the city. Pan to my father, looking astonished at the swelling crowd. 'Are they giving away silk saris free?' he wanted to know, unable to believe the magnitude of the crowd. My mother looked apprehensive since she is not too steady on her feet due to her brittle bones. A crowd is not a good place for her to be in.

So we abandoned RmKV and headed for Sundari Silks, another showroom located a short distance from RmKV. Mercifully it was less crowded. But not so less that we could get attract the attention of a salesman. It was like playing hide and seek. "Excuse me...! Can you please show us saris....excuse me!". When one guy appeared to look interested, we told him our budget. " You have to go over there." He pointed to the other side of the room. My sister snapped " We went there. There is no place to sit. You bring the saris here". And my dad " see...nobody is attending to us here! We should have gone to Rasi or Rangachary's" And me " Appa! Give it a rest no. We have come here, let us see what is there. Stop grumbling." And his usual refrain " I am worried about your mother..." And my mother "Konjam summa irukela!" (will you calm down please)

At last a salesman gave us his full attention. I suppose he got fed up with our squabbling. My sister and I made our choice. And just to confound our mother, we bought her a kajeevaram sari that cost a bomb. "But I don't want such an expensive sari" " We want you to have it. It is our sentiment" Ooooh! It gave me such pleasure to give her dialogue back to her! Since she liked the sari, she gave up protesting after a while.

We crossed the road and went to Murugan Idlli Shop for a snack. Managed to get a table for five persons. And waited interminably for our order of dosas to arrive. My dad, impatient at all times, ate up his chutney while waiting for the dosas to arrive. Then when it became intolerable, he got up and gave an earful to a nearby waiter. "We have been waiting for half and hour. Two people have come and gone at the nearby table. And I have eaten all my chutney!" (the last said in an aggrieved tone).

When the order arrived at last, my dad, wanting to avoid another delay said " Ok. Now get us some bondas" "No bondas on the menu saaar!!" "What?! You told me there were bondas. And now you say there aren't any bondas! What sort of establishment do you run?!" "Aiyyo thatha! He said pongal. Not bonda!" "Did he now? Well I dont want any pongal" said my dad, put out at the loss of bondas.

And then we took an auto home. Surprisingly without a squabble with the auto guy about the fare.

Is mein fight hai, romance hai (saris are romantic), emotion hai...standard outing for the Familie Sundara Rajan.

I have just returned from a trip to Hyderabad. As the title of this post suggests, my journey was from hell.

I had booked my tickets online. Wonder why IRCTC asks for a berth preference when the moment you enter an age below 60, you're given the worst berth? I had the worst case of bad luck. I got side upper berth for both onward and return journeys. Giving them the benefit of doubt, I supposed that I should have booked my tickets earlier. With that thought and a sigh, I mentally prepared myself for the journey.

The horror began with the onward journey. For starters, I almost missed the train. The scheduled departure time was 16.45. I left my home at 15.35 thinking it would give me adequate time to take the local train to Park, walk the subway into Central station and board the train. How wrong I was!

The line at the ticket counter at the sub urban train station was long. With the line inching ahead and the minutes ticking away, my anxiety levels began to rise. Just as I reached the ticket window, this jackass cut in from the adjacent ticket line. I snapped.

"Hey! Join the queue"

"No.The guy at that counter said my ticket is issued in this counter"

" Whatever! Join the queue"

"No!"

What?! I couldn't believe this. And nobody else in the queue said a word!

"Well then you can buy your ticket after me." It was the best I could do given my time limitation. Plus, he was holding a five hundred rupee note. It would take forever before he had his ticket and change.

Finally I boarded the local train. But as luck would have it, I had boarded the slowest local train in the world. It chugged along amiably at a leisurely pace, even stopping once when no station was in sight. Must have stopped to let an old lady cross the tracks I fumed.

You think this is bad? Wait till you hear the rest. I somehow made it to Central station with five minutes to spare. Locating my third AC compartment, I wearily made my way to my (shudder) side upper berth.

Remember how they had introduced a 'side middle berth'? Now consider the engineering aspect of it. How do you think Indian Railways managed to accommodate a side middle berth? Well, they raised the side upper berth a few inches and stuck the middle berth in the newly created space between the lower and upper berth.

Now the side middle was so excruciatingly uncomfortable that even the Railways relented. Public displeasure for once did not fall on deaf ears. A decision was made scrapping the middle berth. And so they were. Expect that the smart cookie that took out the side middle berth, didn't think to lower the upper berth back to its original position. The result was that you couldn't sit up on the side upper berth. You either had to lie down or get off it. And when you lay down, the roof of the coach was barely inches from your nose and the wall curved just over your shoulder. The net effect, you felt you were sleeping in a coffin.

And such was the prospect that lay ahead of me in the 14 hour overnight journey from Chennai to Hyderabad. To make matters more interesting, twin babies and their parents were my co-passengers. I don't suppose I need to mention that traveling with babies is right next to traveling on side upper berth in my list of dislikes on train journeys. Of course, in a moment of charity, I did sympathise with the couple who had two side lower berths (to my one side upper). I suppose their journey was worse than mine.

The remaining hours of my journeys were filled with travails and indignities which you will no doubt find amusing. My chimpanzee imitation - hanging and swaying while hoisting myself onto the side upper berth, the wailing of the babies when lights were switched off, the consequent burning of the lights all night (right on my face) - the night it seemed would never end. I arrived at my parents bleary eyed and in a bad mood.

"Side upper eh?" , said my dad. "Too bad". He then went on to express his opinion of what the Railways should do about this problem. "If they allot a passenger a side berth, lower or upper, they should give them a discount for the discomfort". Yeah! Right. Like that was going to happen in my lifetime.

Gloom descended as my return journey neared. Side upper again. But wait! When I boarded the train, I noticed that the upper berth was not placed high as Everest. Some kind soul had lowered it back to its original height. Praise the Lord! Perhaps I would get a good night's sleep after all. But....(yes, my life was turning out to be one obstacle course!), three giggly girls just out of their teens were my co-passengers. I eyed them with trepidation. However, if you discounted the constant giggling, texting and whispering into mobile phones well past midnight, I suppose it wasn't such a bad train experience.

PS: But even after this tirade about the journey from hell, I should tell you that I love the Indian Railways. It is a total paradox. With its beautiful train names (Rajdhani, Shatabdi, Amrapali, Hussein Sagar Exp), filthy stations and perpetual wait lists, to me, it is a symbol of the diversity and plurality that exist in my beautiful country. I'm a railway child. And I suppose that's what gives me the right to criticise!

A theatre festival was announced in Chennai by The Hindu, a leading English daily. Being interested in drama, I was naturally excited and did not waste time in booking tickets for the opening play - 'Antigone' staged by Motley, a theatre group started by Naseerudin Shah. But this post is not about the play. It is only inspired by it.

The English daily I mentioned before had decided to dispense with the usual critics review of the plays and instead announced a 'Citizens' Review'. I thought it was a clever way of getting art out of the clutches of the intellectual elite and democratizing it. Get it out to the lay person - let the people decide what they liked. Excellent going so far.

The play didn't really ring a bell with me to tell you the truth. So I looked forward to the Citizens' Reviews wondering if others felt the same way. Come Tuesday, I grabbed the supplement and poured over the reviews and was stumped. I couldn't make sense of what had been published as reviews! Did they like it or did they not? One particular reviewer - let us call her MS - had me flummoxed with words like:

"The blind prophet is ably replaced by an overarching prophetic vision of doom that hangs heavily over the play itself"

"...held the play together tautly, despite a tangled and prosaic discourse."

"Ratna Pathak Shah as Antigone is remarkable in her portrayal of an essentially ambiguous character. Antigone has confused readers for centuries with her tendency to be both gentle and violent, but Shah’s rendition bears a translucence that makes these shifts both forgivable and credible."

"Anouilh’s adaptation seeks to make Greek tragedy accessible and ends with a post-modern notion of resignation, disaffection and the pain of continuity,... "

What were all these high sounding words? I was bewildered. Call me stupid, but if I like a play, I say: " It was good! I loved it! Naseer was superb. He has a great presence etc" Simple ideas, simply put.

When I thought a bit more, I realised that this was no 'Citizens' Review'. It was a great con job. Of pretending it was a reviewed by lay persons when actually it was done by a professional. I mean just look at the writing - disaffection? translucence? prosaic? Do ordinary people speak and write like this?! As the Bard said, these were words full of sound of fury signifying nothing. Now I got mad. I had to do something about it.

So I wrote in to the newspaper via email and expressed my outrage at their blatant attempt to dupe me. And guess what? They got back to me! It came as a surprise and I suppose it goes to the credit of the newspaper for wanting to set the record straight (though I didn't really buy their explanation). They had been accused of writing only good reviews in the past since the festival was organised by them. So, to uphold their impartiality, they decided to hand over the stick (or pen) to their readers.

The editor was very professional in explaining that they took care to have a representative cross section of people among the reviews they published. Also, they could not disqualify a person for writing professionally. MS was not a professional critic, but a person who acted in plays. Everybody, even members of the theatre fraternity, was allowed to write their reviews and space allowing, the paper would carry it.

Well said indeed. Except that it was all humbug - ably demonstrated when MS reviewed the last play titled Citizen Josh and was featured in a separate box item. Excerpts from it include

"‘Citizen Josh’ is rife with interesting moments: there are moments of startling clarity that are surprisingly insightful; there are moments of genial good humour that provide bursts of relief and familiarity; there are moments of blunt straightforwardness that lull you into a warm sort of intimacy with the artiste on stage; most importantly, there are moments of poignancy that give you reassurance and disquiet simultaneously"

I learned a lesson from this. One: Do your own review. Read other reviews only for comic relief. Two: Never expect newspapers to admit having made a mistake or even attempt to take corrective measures based on feedback from readers.

If you're interested to read the Citizens' Reviews, try this link: http://www.hindu.com/thehindu/mp/2009/08/17/index.htm. Go to the Chennai edition and read the reviews published between 10th and 17th August.

I demand to know who in the Chennai Corporation's Solid Waste Management Department is in charge of transportation of garbage from the streets to the dumping ground. I wish to acquaint him/her about my real feelings on their fantastic sense of timing.

On a regular work day, I drive to work on my two wheeler, and usually leave home around 8.30am. The first leg of my journey is on Mount Road, an important arterial road. Despite the traffic - which at that time is medium heavy -I generally enjoy the drive It is 'my time' - when I think cheerful thoughts and even sing on the drive to work.

So there I was the other day, freshly scrubbed from my morning bath, powdered and perfumed, driving along singing 'mein chali mein chali', when I was assailed by the most godawful stench. I was reminded of my high school chemistry lab - where a particular chemical reaction emitted the smell of 'rotten eggs'. Looking around, I saw the yellow Corporation garbage disposal van drive past, with bits and pieces of organic waste dropping off and flying in its wake. My breakfast threatened to come back up.

The following day, the same odour hit my nostrils at precisely the same spot. And yet again the next day.

What is it with the Corporation guys? Agreed the city's bowels spew 3200 MT of solid waste everyday and it needs to be moved to the dumping ground asap. But why choose peak office hours to transport garbage? Are they trying to kill citizens with the stench? Apparently their collective brains reside in their nether regions.

I would greatly appreciate the opportunity to inform the Corporation guys on the whereabouts of their grey matter. And perhaps help them locate it. Hope readers will help in the cause.