tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-99399662012-01-27T23:15:25.887+05:30This is my turf. The turf I must stay rooted in.Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.comBlogger5971100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-13390026892591750192012-01-27T21:44:00.000+05:302012-01-27T21:44:51.300+05:30

A tribal person set out from home to encash a cheque, after working hard to collect tendu leaves. He was ‘picked up’ allegedly by the Chhattisgarh police. While he was in lock-up, the police said, he used a bedsheet (or perhaps a shawl, or blanket) to hang himself. Then the police were saying that he was caught by the CRPF and tortured nearly to death. The post mortem report has mentioned injury

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-35469033231415877172012-01-18T02:06:00.000+05:302012-01-18T02:06:49.081+05:30

My colony has a fancy western-sounding name and, while constructing the illusion that we were buying into something exotic, the builder has installed statues vaguely modeled on Venus de Milo — nearly nude white female forms, arms missing. Then one day, our statue was found dressed in a nightgown. But perhaps some poor person badly needed a nightgown, so the statue was bare again. Soon enough,

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-62443340911620090892012-01-15T12:07:00.000+05:302012-01-15T12:07:18.474+05:30

So, it is a new year, and I hope it is a good one. Many new things are happening. For one, there are so many new babies. At the time of writing this, our estimated population was 1,180,282,734 (according to the population calculating system at medindia.net). By the time I finished typing that sentence, it went up to 1,180,282,747. It’s quite freaky actually. Try sitting still and staring at the

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-35057062516711055802011-12-29T00:16:00.000+05:302011-12-29T00:16:26.967+05:30

[A poem I wrote in 2009, at a New Years' party. Setting it free today. Ainwayee.] I had heard of human love, thwarted by the underworld: one backward glance and all is lost! For the gods are cruel and quick to snatch. So I expected no generosity, stepping over shards of sozzled gloom, I stalked the night for sandpapered hopes: It's new year's and I've paid my dues. On every floor, a bruising

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-49378323761407488302011-12-26T11:34:00.000+05:302011-12-26T11:34:52.089+05:30

I’ve been reading a novel from which I want to share a few lines: “… says it does not matter if you lie to …. They have no right to silence, even if they know speech will incriminate them; if they will not speak, then break their fingers, burn them with irons, hang them up by their wrists. It is legitimate, and indeed … goes further; it is blessed.” Can you fill in the blanks? What and who are

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-59292816907933321402011-12-20T00:47:00.001+05:302011-12-20T00:50:02.114+05:30

It doesn’t matter that much whether or not Walmart arrives. We already have Reliance and More and Big Bazaar. As a buyer of potatoes and multi-grain atta, it’s the same to me. I’m basically looking at a glass-fronted alternative to the subzi mandi. Is this good for me? Probably not, given that fresh food is always better than food kept for days in cold storage. Is it good for the environment?

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-22632823524882689682011-12-16T12:53:00.000+05:302011-12-16T12:53:55.453+05:30

A friend’s friend got spat upon while he was riding a motorbike. The traffic light was red. A passenger riding in a bus in Mumbai just poked his head out of the window and spat. Our friend was mid-trajectory. As the traffic moved ahead, our friend accelerated, stopped his bike right in front of the bus and forced it to stop. Then he climbed into the bus, located the spitter in his window seat,

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-68945001458373551532011-12-13T17:37:00.000+05:302011-12-13T17:37:13.123+05:30

There’s a man. His name is Bhagwati Sahu. He was a ‘Janpad’ member, a kind of elected representative for the local population in Rawaan, where a cement factory had been set up. This was the Ambuja-Holcim plant, in Raipur district... The police say Bhagwati has criminal antecedents, and listed 18 cases where he is named as an offender. These turned out to be five cases listed over and over again,

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-58784865986925633882011-12-09T03:39:00.001+05:302011-12-31T03:17:07.099+05:30

There is a question I have been wanting to ask for a long time now, particularly of my filmmaker friends: Can you name ten tender love scenes from Hindi films made in the last five years? Can you? Because I can't. I can't even think of even five. Of course, people's interpretation and judgment might differ, but when I say tender love scenes, the emphasis is not on love scenes. The emphasis is on

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-5501111554265123472011-12-08T01:07:00.002+05:302011-12-31T03:17:30.062+05:30

Thanks to Rockstar, I've been reminded of the one artistic element no artist can hope to control: the audience. I was having a conversation with a friend who didn't like the film. At all. He said I must have been in a sappy mood to have liked it. I pointed out that I'm always in a sappy mood. He insisted the film was not about love in any real sense, that the lead character was irresponsible,

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-53240000925144654302011-11-30T13:32:00.000+05:302011-11-30T13:32:26.226+05:30

The crazy Mexican invader Krishen refers to was a plant that was deliberately brought to our desert (tossed out from an airplane, apparently). Perhaps, it was done with good intent. Some researchers and/or administrators may have thought: “Hey, some greenery is better than none. Why don’t we bring in this super-tough Mexican shrub?” And so they did. This new invasive plant took root, sure, but

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-51175362583859826092011-11-30T13:29:00.000+05:302011-11-30T13:29:59.932+05:30

The next time we met, he talked about history. About long swathes of grass. About what it might be to look at the sky without tilting your neck backwards and how it might be if clear pools of liquid existed at the venue of our thirst, so we didn’t have to push our tired bodies to the faraway ponds. He talked about taps and knowledge and fences. It is hard not to love one who talks like this.

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-74291578612787760782011-11-20T14:22:00.000+05:302011-11-20T14:22:34.448+05:30

The sequence of events seems hazy at this point. About fifty armed men showed up in the village. Some reports say she was killed in her sleep. Others say that some old women tried to protect her by hiding her under mattresses, but all houses were searched and after Valsa was found, she was either shot dead, or hacked to death (depending on which newspaper you read). She was in Bachuwari,

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-44661821383773088942011-11-19T23:14:00.001+05:302011-11-19T23:16:58.279+05:30

‘So what are you worth?’ I asked. ‘Rs 50 lakhs,’ he wrote back. I tut-tutted: What was Rs 50 lakhs these days? Too late to ‘improve’ himself, he moaned, but he’d make sure his unborn sons grew up to deserve more respectable dowries. It was all a joke, of course. The ‘dowry calculator’ was doing the rounds on Facebook and I urged a friend, a business journalist, to get himself ‘valued’ for

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-38622557279751102312011-11-18T01:33:00.000+05:302011-11-18T01:33:05.634+05:30

I find it hard to understand dowry in this great city where millions shove, spit and battle loneliness. That fellow whistling in the air as he rides the footboard on a train, scrutinising a girl in the next coach—is he wondering if her dad will pay for a Honda? Probably. How else do we explain dowry? Over the past year or so, I’ve been forced to think a lot about dowry. Much has been happening.

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-55572067762930471702011-11-14T00:51:00.000+05:302011-11-14T00:51:20.930+05:30

Your MP (member of parliament) is not responsible for water, sanitation or gardens. S/he can spend Rs3.35 crore on your constituency every year. But it is not her/his job to ensure that sewage isn’t leaking into drinking water. Parliament’s basic job is national policy. This may translate into roads and drains, yes. For instance, new laws can force urban residents to start composting or

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-55509658627751877692011-11-10T13:20:00.000+05:302011-11-10T13:20:12.069+05:30

In Howrah, Manu Ram and Babla Bera were stabbed for trying to protect a 14-year-old schoolgirl. To borrow the words from an oddly-named NGO website, ‘eve teasing is an inseparable part of every girl’s life causing much avoidable mental agony to her. This in turn adversely affects her family and her friends’ (sic). It not only affects family and friends, it also leads to tragicomic situations

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-89231045850588767662011-11-06T13:13:00.000+05:302011-11-06T13:13:52.478+05:30

... this collection was written to address a specific aspect of young women’s lives – the ‘goodness’ factor, with specific reference to south Asia. A story like Sujata does not qualify. Sujata might frighten us, but her morals/virtue are not being questioned (except by Kulin and he’s such a sadist that his accusations are easily overlooked). That’s the funny thing about our culture. It accepts,

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-22343087699723187982011-11-01T12:51:00.000+05:302011-11-01T12:51:12.160+05:30

I was too taken aback at first to ask what wasn’t right, but he told us anyway. “This thing about gods, insulting god, it isn’t right.” What I wanted to do, then, was roll my eyes. Instead, I found myself getting anxious. But I wasn’t about to be cowed, of course. So I told the angry young god-defender that this was between us and gods; we’d settle our own scores. He went off and stood around

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-6039521041262841532011-10-27T12:58:00.003+05:302011-12-31T03:18:20.413+05:30

The year is 2005. The rain has settled into a sweet Delhi drizzle. Between the bus conductor’s lusty cries of ‘Gurgaanva!’ the radio crackles with song. A group of college girls boards the bus, arranges itself in the row just ahead. The song changes to the still-popular Bheege honth tere (Your lips are wet). One of the girls begins to sing along, but there is one line she skips: Kabhi mere saath

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-30087224413598242282011-10-26T01:55:00.000+05:302011-10-26T01:55:55.634+05:30

First things first: This isn’t really about bad boys (we don’t know any; God-promise); this is about good Indian girls. And you should read this if you are the unsuspecting guy who walked up to a sweet girl, but when you asked for her name, she treated you as if you were a pervert. Or are you one of those who gave a girl a fancy present but she was too nervous to accept it? Are you married to a

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-54419821032242970792011-10-24T20:35:00.001+05:302011-10-24T20:52:35.300+05:30

Newspapers, magazines, TV channels, websites — they are supposed to bring you word when things are wrong. But often the media fails. It fails partly because YOU — middle-class, media-consuming citizens — swallow the hogwash about not being interested enough in ‘serious’ news. It also fails because journalists are controlled by businessmen/women. Right now, there is an ongoing battle for the very

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-49771926983049325072011-10-21T00:47:00.000+05:302011-10-21T00:47:50.348+05:30

Apparently, good Indian girls don't do serious research in good libraries. This newspaper reports that undergraduate female students at Aligarh Muslim University are not allowed to enter the better-equipped Maulana Azad Library and that even in the Women's College Library, students are allowed access to the reference section only. And what does the college princy have to say? "Vehemently

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-36709384841105693932011-10-18T00:00:00.000+05:302011-10-18T00:00:51.505+05:30

Friends, strangers, countrymen and townswomen, come! The discussion with Shilpa Phadke promises to be fun. And you can ask all the questions you want. 

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-6078450606702177152011-10-17T02:13:00.002+05:302011-10-17T02:19:29.450+05:30

At a recent meeting, retired Justice Hosbet Suresh explained Section 151 of the CrPC (Code of Criminal Procedure). Essentially, you could be hauled off to the nearest police station if a cop thinks you are going to commit an offense, and you could be kept there for 24 hours. A lot can happen in 24 hours. You could be forced to perform acts that leave you scarred for life, but which we cannot

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-13528650403568084202011-10-12T23:31:00.002+05:302011-10-12T23:42:07.632+05:30

The city comes pouring out of her mouth like sleek brown rivers of discontent, her hands flat against the pink café walls, the round-faced waiter in his purple apron, stunned. The city pours out of her mouth -colour of churning monsoon street,bags under neglected coffee eyes,soles of slippers that have spent the eveningin an old-fashioned cemetery, colour of guts. On her fleshy back, a hand

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-49702931668542651302011-10-12T00:53:00.000+05:302011-10-12T00:53:39.207+05:30

Found a wonderful, insightful, informative piece about marriage, its past and future, and what it means to be single in our romantically crises-ridden age. The context and a lot of the research is from the USA but what the writer says and experiences will resonate with many of us in developing nations, particularly educated, urban single women. I'd strongly recommend that all single people (men

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-67658548507818288252011-10-09T22:32:00.000+05:302011-10-09T22:32:19.477+05:30

Auto-rickshaw drivers deserve to live in clean surroundings; they deserve to eat fruit; their children deserve to go to good schools. And it is true that for this to happen in Mumbai, a household needs at least Rs 25,000 a month. So, now that one of the auto unions is demanding that much money, I understand. I even kind of endorse their demands. ... If autorickshaw drivers win this battle,

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-80297271516346114962011-10-08T02:51:00.003+05:302011-10-08T12:52:35.714+05:30

I was pretty spaced out during the ride back to the station. While hailing the auto-rickshaw, I hadn't even looked at the driver's face properly. We never do, do we? All I remember was that he was aggressively bearded. And that his auto gave me the full benefit of the city. No distracting music. No cricket commentary or news. No conversation on the phone. No horns. Midnight Andheri vroomed past

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-38603094362841125862011-10-03T23:46:00.001+05:302011-10-04T00:01:12.487+05:30

"She puts on the safety chain and opens the door a few inches. The broad shoulders turn. It is a familiar face after all. It is the face of trouble. Seconds pass as her soapy hands fiddle with the safety chain. She should shut the door now. She should make an urgent phone call. Or she can talk across the chain, ask him what he wants. The safety chain clatters gently against the door as Sujata

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-20834326936257302222011-10-02T14:39:00.001+05:302011-10-03T13:12:01.814+05:30

So I got into another crib-fest about Hindi films and how disconnected they are from ‘reality’. How our filmmakers have turned into elitist bubble-vermin, how the bubble shall surely burst, how it deserves to burst because films are media, and media has responsibilities. On and on. Then I thought, but what about ‘media’ media?... Thinking about the information put out by the ‘national press’ has

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-29355070523228868702011-09-27T01:24:00.001+05:302011-09-27T01:32:07.437+05:30

At its most literal, sadbhavna translates to ‘good feelings’. Now who wouldn’t want Indian citizens to have good feelings for each other, across the tragic, screaming borders of caste, language, religion, sex? And if a democratically-elected representative wants to fast for a few days in the hope of fostering fine fellow-feeling etcetera amongst the electorate, there is nothing wrong with that.

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-85244158047749898202011-09-19T00:56:00.000+05:302011-09-19T00:56:15.613+05:30

Since her murder, there have been allegations that evidence was tampered with. There is talk of exhuming Shehla’s body. There is talk of powerful BJP leaders being involved. Senior BJP leaders have also not said anything about the case, nor asked BJP-affiliated politicians to step down until their names are cleared in connection with Shehla Masood’s murder. They are instead taking out a ‘rath

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-54781704530594170142011-09-11T14:06:00.000+05:302011-09-11T14:06:45.860+05:30

I patiently waited in line. Five minutes, then ten, then fifteen. Finally one auto trundled up, and was promptly hijacked by people right at the back of the queue. We all sighed, shuffled, mumbled. The same thing happened again, then again. Finally, one gent stopped a freshly hijacked auto by planting himself firmly in front of it. He asked the hijackers to vacate the auto and wait in queue

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-35941367122032344942011-09-04T14:10:00.000+05:302011-09-04T14:10:48.875+05:30

Last week a writer-friend, Vivek Tandon, called me to discuss what should actually be done to combat corruption. He thinks we need a ‘Truth and Reconciliation’ commission — something along the lines of what they did in South Africa after they finally got rid of apartheid. In the corruption context, this would mean people being given a chance to confess their corrupt acts and redeem

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-16832834987723362002011-08-28T10:47:00.000+05:302011-08-28T10:47:49.604+05:30

Now that the new book is out, we shall be doing a series of readings across various book-stores (and perhaps at some institutions too). This space will be updated as and when new events are finalized. Please do come. Physical invitations are not necessary, so anyone interested in the Good Indian Girl (and why would't you be?), come along for a chat. One:  Kitabkhana [Address: Ground Floor,

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-4531824080876554952011-08-28T10:00:00.001+05:302011-08-28T10:55:45.540+05:30

I headed towards the autos queued outside the domestic airport and carried my bags to the front of the line. As I got into the first auto, a white-uniformed fellow with an I-am-a-somebody demeanor leaned in, blocking the exit. He said: “Hundred rupees… If you get a pre-paid slip, you will have to pay a hundred and fifty.”I snapped something about using the meter, and then tried to alight. White

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-24197403567056465192011-08-27T11:59:00.000+05:302011-08-28T10:48:13.098+05:30

It is the result of the joint labours (and loves) of myself and Smriti Ravindra. It is ready for scrutiny, and judgement, or whatever else you might bestow upon it. Ladies and gentlemen, presenting The Bad Boy's Guide to the Good Indian Girl aka The Good Indian Girl's Guide to Living, Loving and Having Fun. The book can be preordered (heavily discounted) on Flipkart.

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-44011054469368021392011-08-22T14:27:00.000+05:302011-08-22T14:27:07.459+05:30

Here's a short video put together in the context of the book. If you have responses, or comments, they are most welcome here, or over at the Zubaan blog. If you want to respond at length, come up with your own note/ essay/ video/ musing-in-some-new-format and we will link to it.

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-84101716968920807492011-08-21T18:21:00.002+05:302011-08-21T18:34:14.359+05:30

People, you see, have problems. And even if the problems are not of the state’s making, the people still expect the state to intervene.And when it comes to corruption, they are truly furious and justified in their fury because they confront corruption mostly via state-controlled agencies. So they are mistrustful of the government when it claims that it will tackle corruption on its own. The

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-41343157552794737602011-08-14T15:29:00.000+05:302011-08-14T15:29:36.047+05:30

Wiktionary defines sovereignty as the state of making laws and controlling resources without the coercion of other nations. In other words, we are sovereign only if we use collective resources to our own advantage. So, here’s a question. Does food qualify as a resource? Yes? What about traditional knowledge? Yes? Do I hear you say that it is imperative that India holds on to her strengths in

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-86996633864941960452011-08-07T22:10:00.002+05:302011-08-07T22:10:52.353+05:30

BSY posed for photographs — holding one edge of the resignation letter while the Governor held the other — smiling confidently for the cameras. He insisted he would be back in the CM’s chair within six months. There was a lot of bluster andshowbaazi. Looking at the photos, it seemed as if he was resigning in protest.There was no sign of shame, no sign that the CM had to be shoved out after

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-89327870689036539092011-07-31T16:36:00.002+05:302011-07-31T16:36:50.425+05:30

Over the last couple of years, I’d often see press releases from environmental groups or an angry letter on a mailing list lashing out at Ramesh. He may have promised to rethink the Renuka dam, or allowed more construction on the Narmada. Whatever he did, Ramesh was making his presence felt, and a lot of people are wondering if Jayanthi Natarajan will follow suit. What distinguishes a visible

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-80486381241985062912011-07-25T02:30:00.001+05:302011-07-26T02:21:01.307+05:30

I can’t remember the last time I noticed film credits roll in Devnagri. In fact, I too have switched to the Roman script when writing in Hindustani. And perhaps it’s better this way. Perhaps it doesn’t matter because all civilisations move from one script to another, one dialect to another. That’s how Urdu got made, a language that came striding in from the battlefield into bazaars, used first by

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-46867506567012793182011-07-23T21:26:00.000+05:302011-07-23T21:26:21.078+05:30

"When motor vehicles bring in the risk of death, why are pedestrians given most of the responsibility of preventing it?" That and some very pertinent points raised by Karthik in his new post where he writes: The term “jaywalking” was introduced at this time, and pedestrians who cross mid-block were caricatured as being unsophistacted and boorish... It occurs to me that such propaganda bears

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-14686944890902947852011-07-18T16:10:00.000+05:302011-07-18T16:10:37.392+05:30

The tears come when the kachra-wala rings the bell. It is the son of the lady who usually comes. A boy in his late teens, hair plastered down, he says the usual morning word — “Kachra!”For the first time ever, I speak to him. “I didn’t think you’d come.”For the first time, he smiles at me. There’s three feet of water outside our building. The rain hasn’t stopped. And this impossible city has just

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-7358901935706687032011-07-11T12:28:00.000+05:302011-07-11T12:28:01.337+05:30

What do you want, Mumbai? Who do you want as your neighbour, or tenant? You want ‘good’ people, yes? By good, you mean ‘respectable’, non-violent (not publicly violent anyway), quiet people (who don’t complain when you turn noisy during festivals). You want kids who work towards being accepted rather than causing mayhem. Yes?And you want some do-gooders, yes? The old lady who plants trees. A

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-51508533223369042472011-07-08T13:57:00.000+05:302011-08-21T20:46:02.472+05:30

The blurb describes Ibne Safi’s Jasusi Duniya series as an “intricately demented world of larger-than-life villains, mad genius detectives and beautiful femme fatales”. For once, the blurb does not exaggerate. Safi is one of the most popular Urdu writers of the 20th century and Blaft has done newer non-Urdu reading generations a huge favour by publishing at least a few of his translated works.

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-77711111114669363602011-07-07T01:12:00.000+05:302011-07-07T01:12:56.513+05:30

A friend's friend was cheated and threatened by a man who married her. He and his family disappeared when it seemed like their game was up. But he's still out there (on various marriage websites) cheating women, using them, milking their parents for all they can afford to spend at the wedding and afterwards. The girl has bravely set up a blog, put up his photos from the wedding, and is trying to

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-84163673064739372762011-07-04T15:00:00.000+05:302011-07-04T15:00:55.369+05:30

It’s not as easy as choosing between a pink lehenga and blue jeans with climate control factored in. What-to-wear is a finely calibrated decision. I think of whether to take an auto or a cab, train or bus. I think of where I’m headed, at what station to get off, at what time. And despite all this, even if my legs and arms are fully-covered, even if no cleavage or belly is on display, I’m afraid.

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-152788314964373332011-07-04T14:36:00.000+05:302011-07-04T14:36:43.270+05:30

It’s been so long since I saw television that I’m stunned at the sight of a young man being insulted on national television. I’m squirming on behalf of this aspiring Roadies contestant, angry at the ‘judges’ who are calling him stupid to his face.But the next minute, the young man loses my sympathy when he says that he agrees with the ‘Ayodhya verdict’, though he doesn’t know what the verdict is

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-86027411377649850172011-06-29T01:57:00.001+05:302011-06-29T01:57:00.787+05:30

Blame it on the great Indian white skin fixation. Or, if you prefer, on a new body code that has corroded the flimsy wall between modeling and acting. Most of all, blame it on Katrina Kaif. Years after she rode into Bollywood on the back of an oddity called ‘Boom’, she has blown away most of the criticism about her inability to speak Hindi, her disconcertingly foreign accent, her questionable

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-73920424456731610572011-06-27T02:09:00.000+05:302011-06-27T02:09:36.785+05:30

Try and imagine this. Take the names of eleven women you know. At the eleventh name, blink. That woman just disappeared from your life. Think of what it means to live like that, knowing that a pregnancy can so easily lead to a funeral. Or think of what it’s like to have your little sister killed by her in-laws.Now think about your proximity to them. Not geographical proximity, no. Consider how

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-4291658935209330332011-06-19T23:00:00.000+05:302011-06-19T23:00:14.330+05:30

I’m ashamed. Deep down in my cynical writer’s heart, I didn’t believe he would actually do it. But he did. And I am ashamed because I’d heard of him but never took him seriously until he died.I’m signed up on an environment e-group and had seen a press statement about Nigamanand — a Ganga-bhakt who had been on hunger strike for 68 days, who was arrested, then moved to Dehradun after poisoning

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-22951361465771197702011-06-13T00:39:00.000+05:302011-06-13T00:39:18.384+05:30

Think about it. When was the last time you saw a romantic song where a couple dance — or even just circumambulate in a skippy, dreamy sort of way — around a tree?I’m not joking. I’m serious. Look up old romantic songs on Youtube. Many outdoorsy songs (up until the 1990s) included trees. Picnics were always happening. Romance was always brewing. People went cycling, just for fun. Grassy hillsides

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-63675855973136768122011-06-06T17:03:00.000+05:302011-06-06T17:03:55.067+05:30

As long as you go on calling things by false names, there’s a good chance people will go on buying the lie. We can go on pretending that every morning our faces will be caressed by mist although we know it will actually be smog. This is why no real estate developer calls his building ‘Smog Heights’. Instead, he peddles nature as if it were a byproduct of construction. This is why

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-34433884679200199042011-06-03T00:31:00.001+05:302011-06-03T00:47:57.717+05:30

Abhinavgupta Careful, Master! The mirror lies      all that is to our right      it shows to our left,      all that is to our left      it tells to our right. Thus there is scope for doubt too as to whether we are standing on our head or our feet? Or is it not that joining the sky and the abyss an imaginary line       cuts right and left at a point               that is in fact truth's most

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-36532209043669132342011-05-31T00:55:00.001+05:302011-05-31T12:12:59.294+05:30

I'd recently done a brief review of: ‘I want to Live’ – The Story of Madhubala (by Khatija Akbar). I've been a lifelong fan of the lady and then I discovered these absolutely stunning photos. If you aren't in love with her already, I would urge you to look. I promise: Resistance will be futile. Across a chasm of two generations, men and women and children continue to fall in love with that face.

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-27324819869960214992011-05-29T23:18:00.000+05:302011-05-29T23:18:16.850+05:30

The simple thing is to set fire to them. But that isn’t a good option, especially for plastics. Perhaps that was when someone came up with an idea — incineration. Then, someone came up with another idea — incinerate garbage and convert it into electricity. Then they took it a step further – “Let’s get carbon credits! Since garbage seems to be eternal, let’s just call it a renewable source of

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-68774611487222013162011-05-23T00:44:00.000+05:302011-05-23T00:44:28.605+05:30

I still remember with absolute clarity the day mom asked us: What makes shadows? In my mind, shadows were associated with darkness — with candlelight; with evening walks. So I answered: ‘Dark’. She switched off the lights and shut the windows. And hey! No shadows! Then she made us carry a desk into the blinding sunshine. Shadows!I have never forgotten that lesson about light. That year, the

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-6347450614125907632011-05-16T19:40:00.000+05:302011-05-16T19:40:12.153+05:30

Say, the PWD engineer decided he wasn’t going to attend this enormous cost-cutting party. Say, he fined the contractor or blacklisted the firm. Can you imagine it? I can: Engineer babu is out alone one evening when he finds himself surrounded. Or there’s the ratatatatat of machine gunfire. Or perhaps, he tumbles out of a high window in a public place.That’s how it was for Yogendra Pandey,

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-51456043067240554372011-05-08T22:39:00.001+05:302011-05-08T22:43:37.559+05:30

Friend requests come from religious hardliners and right-wing chest-thumpers. Also from leftists, libertarians, atheists, humanists. Last week, I was surprised to see a request from a student whose political views were listed as democratic. Surprised, because it is so rare.Very few people choose ‘democracy’ when asked for their political views. In fact, I’ve gotten used to responses like: ‘I

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-11406842288955671952011-05-01T23:06:00.000+05:302011-05-01T23:06:26.304+05:30

There was no road leading to this village. We’d walked over an hour when I spotted, in the middle of this dusty, rocky, lonely terrain, a warning sign. It said: “Speed-breaker Ahead. Go Slow.”  It was too hot to curse so we just tittered - clearly, someone was trying to be funny - and walked on. A few minutes later, there it was. A speed-breaker. At least a foot high and six feet across. Now I

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-71568291851103346272011-04-26T22:22:00.000+05:302011-04-26T22:22:29.888+05:30

Blackmail is all about fear and shame. It means that someone can make you do something you don’t want to do because you are ashamed of the consequences. When Gandhi-ji fasted, he persuaded colonial rulers and Indian mill owners to overturn decisions that hurt millions of people.Why didn’t they just let him die?... Mass murder was already happening — directly, like in Jallianwala Bagh, or

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-70329998047198485092011-04-23T19:19:00.000+05:302011-04-23T19:19:11.946+05:30

Nearly all male actors have joyfully gotten into drag at some point in their careers, while all female actors long to play something meaty and ‘real’. Something like Mother India.Now Mother India is hard to do again. But a Daughter India can still be made. In fact, it could be an international production because the role reprised by Nargis is a global figure. Data suggests that one in five farms

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-53942686177250792282011-04-17T19:02:00.000+05:302011-04-17T19:02:25.507+05:30

It took me a while to realise that I wasn’t really dreaming; I was just remembering sketchy details my mind had collected from the newspaper. I hadn’t paid much attention to the report since it was a brief item on the inside pages. Either some girl was killed or her boyfriend was killed by her brother. There had been another report weeks before that. A 19-year-old went to Kurla (LTT) Terminus to

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-65237447471070430552011-04-04T01:54:00.000+05:302011-04-04T01:54:32.260+05:30

Kirekegaard has said somewhere that often people treat difficult life questions like naughty schoolboys — they copy the answers from a book instead of working out the solution to the problem. I suspect that most political activists or party ‘workers’ do the same. They don’t want to think. They just want to follow someone’s lead. Then it becomes easy to let go, for example during a bandh. ... This

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-25203307601819368712011-03-28T13:06:00.000+05:302011-03-28T13:06:00.365+05:30

What angers me is the fact that Madhya Pradesh has been considering a nuclear plant in Chutka for over two decades but not with the blessings of the gram panchayat. The Bhopal gas tragedy dampened official ardour somewhat, but only for a while. In 2009, villagers found out through newspapers that a nuclear facility was headed for their backyards. They sent letters again and again to

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-55457521986102889802011-03-16T01:23:00.009+05:302011-03-16T01:25:43.870+05:30

Multiplexes have changed my generation forever and I’m not talking about hundred-rupee popcorn. I’m talking about what we see and hear. Ten years ago, I’d go to theatres with a dozen questions: Would I get tickets? Would I have a nasty fellow sitting next to me?Would he hog the shared arm-rest? Would a bunch of brats make random remarks? Would I have to shout: ‘Shut up yaar!’? Would a large

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-2409141116044712852011-03-08T12:58:00.008+05:302011-04-30T13:25:04.455+05:30

I was asked to do piece on urban women's lives in modern India, and how that has changed over a generation, for the Italian version of Marie Claire. The piece appeared in Italian, of course, so I cannot link to the actual beautifully laid-out pages, but here is an English version: Fifteen years ago, I lived in a tiny place. The only real event there was a fete where we kids took camel rides and

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-86152524576450110942011-03-06T23:28:00.002+05:302011-03-06T23:32:42.585+05:30

I've just started writing a column for DNA. The first piece is about a tree.There’s a gulmohur tree outside my window, along with a bunch of other flowering plants, most of which I have managed to kill. Each time my mother leaves town, she tells me I must remember to water the plants. Each time, a few plants die. But the gulmohar survived both my negligence and a parasitical attack.It wasn’t

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-53474132763331433222011-03-04T13:15:00.001+05:302011-03-04T22:25:42.298+05:30

A piece I did for Femina a few months ago, on women's inheritance rights in India. Read on.A room, a field, a place of her own. One little cottage in Ooty – that’s what triggered a sibling tiff in 1965 and over the course of a quarter century, changed the law of the land. The legal battle began in 1984 when Mary Roy (writer Arundhati Roy’s mother) went to court demanding a fair share of

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-15159538196218799822011-02-23T15:01:00.003+05:302011-03-01T13:06:28.441+05:30

"I don't like the jargon "sex workers". We are all sex workers these days, unless we are celibate, as we are all encouraged to pursue lifelong sexiness. Most young women are endlessly groomed to be desirable after all. Yet the men who have sex with young, frightened, addled girls choose to do so. Such sex, we are told, is about power. To have sex in a car with a heroin addict is very cheap

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-74886369982853248002011-02-21T23:53:00.003+05:302011-02-22T01:44:05.963+05:30

Everyone who likes to talk about the public distribution system, foodgrains subsidy, tribal unrest etc, should look at the way crime unfolds, as it did recently in Alirajpur.'the salesman of the public distribution outlet in village Chapria some forty kilometers from Alirajpur took out all the wheat, rice and sugar meant for subsidised distribution to the villagers during the night on 2nd

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-47783838347929214652011-02-17T13:24:00.002+05:302011-02-18T02:08:43.869+05:30

Those are the words in which this reviewer describes my last book. Am very flattered. Actually, I'm halfway over the moon. And I promise to work hard at my writing so that every book is tragic, tender, brutal and funny.And for those who possess those things, Known Turf: Bantering with Bandits and Other True Tales is also available on Kindle now, which means it will not be so insanely expensive

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-80981857939032597662011-02-13T11:53:00.000+05:302011-02-13T11:54:01.813+05:30

Guns: Two groups allegedly affiliated to the Maulana and his opponents openly clashed on the Deoband campus to sounds of booming gunshots. Wailing: The shop keepers said the women had been lying there for a few days and the wails from the younger one never stopped.Quiet: The high hunger States are Orissa, Karnataka, Maharashtra, Gujarat and Bihar.

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-30141397359546371132011-02-07T20:41:00.003+05:302011-02-07T21:25:24.209+05:30

There are things one knows about the world. That is can be ugly, for instance. And beautiful. Most things are a little of both, and most people can find it in themselves to see a little of both in and around themselves.Being able to see both sides of a picture is important to writers like me, writers of non-fiction particularly. It is important to measure intent against action. It is important to

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-86285956713781723192011-01-22T01:06:00.003+05:302011-01-22T01:20:23.172+05:30

HappeningsSo often, this sort of thing will happen.A man will meet a woman and find his voiceis deeper than a well in the sort of village theCentral Ground Water Board has notified ‘dark’, whereyou aren’t allowed to dig tube-wells any more, and you needto be registered with the district authoritiesto get a new hand-pump outside the kitchen, and whereyou itch all over, after a bath.Or, a woman

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-69025898808264626972011-01-19T14:23:00.003+05:302011-01-19T14:39:49.725+05:30

Dear Crossword You and I have a long and fruitful relationship. As a schoolgirl, I was stuck in a place that was, effectively, rural. There were no bookshops for miles and miles. Perhaps there were some in the nearest town, but they did not have what I considered real books - novels, stories, plays, poetry etc.My mother stocked up on books in the summer vacations and carted them back in

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-42622498359901663772011-01-14T17:07:00.001+05:302011-01-14T17:29:12.302+05:30

Had a conversation with a young man selling a bunch of pirated books at a traffic signal.I asked how much he makes per sale. He said Rs 50-75, depending on how hard people like us haggle. Pestered me to buy one. I said I don't buy 'nakli' (fake/pirated) books.He said he too has to survive.I told him I am a writer myself but am not making even Rs 2 on the kind of books he sells, why would I buy

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-89333170373606298462011-01-09T22:11:00.004+05:302011-01-09T22:33:04.355+05:30

Because I could not resist doing this one too. Another poem from Sarveshwardayal Saxena's 'Garm Hawayein', once again hurriedly translated. This one is called 'Vasant ke naam ek khula patr'.'An open letter addressed to Spring'Now you must stop ambushing me.Look carefully –Near that row of yellow flowersOn the sprawling green grassI have just murdered a sentiment;It is a separate matter

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-17204987174079909152011-01-07T19:20:00.002+05:302011-03-28T12:35:38.624+05:30

Trouble on the streets is always new, no matter how often you've spotted it, smacked it back, run from it. Trouble will always creep up on you in new ways, just when you thought you had its number. Trouble walks behind you, just a silent step and a half behind your back and you don't know. One of these nights, you are humming. Some old, sweet song because the night is oddly clear for a city

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-78968370735880035312011-01-02T13:23:00.003+05:302011-01-02T13:39:03.224+05:30

Excited about discovering another Hindi poet I like and once again feeling absolutely compelled to share his work with those of you who don’t have access to the language.So here’s my very crude, hurried translation of Sarveshwardayal Saxena’s ‘Dheere-Dheere’, from the collection Garm Hawayein.'Slowly' Like an empty glassnear full bottlesI have been left here.Slowly the darkwill come staggering

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-4604013533548290922010-12-31T13:51:00.001+05:302010-12-31T13:52:43.753+05:30

Helping to spread the word around: Members of the Christian Medical College Alumni Association, who have helped to support social activist Binayak Sen's family and his legal battles through private contributions, now propose to open up the fund to donations from the public.The Binayak Sen Support Fund was set up in May 2007 through initial contributions by 10 alumni “to provide assistance,

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-48402245424939803722010-12-25T14:59:00.002+05:302010-12-25T15:10:51.855+05:30

Words fail me. Insanity, travesty, shame etc are words that sprung to my mind. But how does one even begin to deal with this outrage called 'sedition' in the context of Binayak Sen?Sample this: Mr Sen — who is out on bail after being in jail for two years for alleged links with the Maoists — was being tried under the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act and the Chhattisgarh Special Public

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-24349061809023473482010-12-23T19:36:00.002+05:302010-12-23T19:39:10.640+05:30

If you have an opinion on paid news, now is the time to air it - direct to our lawmakers.There is a parliamentary standing committee on paid news and they are inviting suggestions from the public in general and from experts or stakeholders especially.

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-85975448335402084762010-12-20T09:36:00.002+05:302010-12-20T10:10:47.077+05:30

How does Rs 240 crore sound? Good? Yeah, am guessing. It sounds good to me. If it's in your bank account, it sounds very good. If it's even just in the national bank account, it still sounds good. It's good to just be in the vicinity of so many prefixed zeros, and hope that some of it will rub off.Now how does Rs 240 crore a day sound? Very good, eh? Lots you can do with Rs 240 crore a day. Even

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-1604344577653432372010-12-11T15:45:00.002+05:302010-12-11T15:49:22.396+05:30

I have been reading Tabish Khair’s Man of Glass lately (am on my second reading already). The book has three sections – each one a kind of retelling of the familiar. The first is a modern take on Shakuntala. The word ‘adaptation’ springs my mind and is perhaps best suited to describe the way in which Khair chooses to interpret the ancient Indian tale. Shakuntala here is not a passive girl who

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-2800414442286659172010-12-03T16:26:00.002+05:302010-12-03T16:29:11.533+05:30

Irom Sarmila needs no introduction. But there's nothing like poetry to understand someone's politics. So here's a new collection of poems by the woman with the steel spine. 'Fragrance of Peace' has been published by Zubaan recently. This collection of poems costs only Rs 125 and Flipkart is offering free home delivery. Need I say more?

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-51682433246243313412010-11-26T00:55:00.005+05:302010-11-26T02:23:31.902+05:30

The title 'Dreams death' is nowhere as poetic as Gulzar's line (kuch khwaab sisakte rahte hain, kuch khwaab magar mar jaate hain), but this short docu film has enough going on. There's truth and pathos and empathy and Gulzar's swoon-inducing voice. Watch it here:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vQAXmdPqTzcBefore the film begins, you see a clip of Priyanka Chopra reminding viewers about a child's

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-5089483924516238732010-11-24T22:29:00.003+05:302010-11-24T22:32:33.323+05:30

Update on Renuka-ji dam project:Just got another press release from the Himalaya Niti Abhiyan and it seems like Jairam Ramesh met the group on hunger strike at Jantar Mantar in Delhi and assured them that the project would not be cleared by the Ministry of environment and forests.But like they say, this is the ibteda. Therefore, aage, aage dekho...

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-54009167187398571222010-11-23T15:44:00.001+05:302010-11-24T11:43:53.934+05:30

So we all saw Slumdog Millionaire. Famous people took sides in the debate around whether Indian poverty should be milked by foreign peoples making Oscar-winning movies. Shouldn't we brown people have the first rights over our own poverty for whatever it is worth - all its spectacular sights and sounds and smells? Besides, it was a matter of izzat. Who knows what poverty and desperation is like,

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-65269096390247964522010-11-21T19:19:00.002+05:302010-11-21T19:24:16.346+05:30

I'd just written about the gorgeous, frightening cold in Delhi.If there's one thing you can do quickly to protect those who suffer winter rather than enjoy, it is this: donate some warm clothes.Here's an appeal from Khoj.'Dearest friends of Khoj,It is that time of the year again and we need your help. Here is your chance to to ensure that Delhi stays warm during the coming winters!Take out

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-78904660044218673062010-11-16T13:16:00.003+05:302010-11-16T13:37:44.846+05:30

Got this in a press note from the Himalaya Niti Abhiyan. I have not been following the dam issue in the Himalayas closely but clearly, all is not well.The Renuka Bandh Sangharsha Samiti is on hunger strike in Renukaji against the Renuka Dam project which intends to supply drinking water for Delhi. The project was denied clearance by the Ministry of Environment and Forests but the state is just

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-84652887716960704372010-11-14T21:55:00.003+05:302010-11-14T23:01:55.912+05:30

I've been missing Delhi quite a bit these days. Missing the warm sweet potato-n-lime snack sold on leaf-plates. Missing the mysterious mornings when you feel as if all the misty apprehension we carry within our souls had somehow been scooped out and set loose upon the streets. I miss missing heaters. I miss my teeth chattering. I miss monkey caps. I miss rubbing my hands together and feeling the

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-84412985290874585292010-11-07T22:44:00.002+05:302010-11-07T22:51:41.013+05:30

The easiest thing to be is a cynic. And I have often behaved like one. I continue to do so (my mother will be nodding her 'aye's at this) even now - constantly shrugging off small attempts at change, constantly asking 'when has it ever been any different?' Perhaps, it is even wise. Perhaps, the total compounded wisdom of the world comes down to this: 'When was it ever any different? What

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-37154452259570239212010-10-31T22:09:00.003+05:302011-11-11T23:18:06.277+05:30

It has been about six months since the last book came out. And I've been doing a fair bit of thinking about the writing life, about what it means to me to have 'become a writer' and what greater toll this way of living will exact. Still trying to figure those things out. I've also been doing a lot of thinking about what a writer's responsibilities are and what I might owe to whom. To that, the

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-91539196092325489722010-09-29T22:24:00.001+05:302010-10-01T02:01:56.078+05:30

I have a great love for Ila Arun, specifically the pop numbers she did in the 1990s. One of my earliest memories of serious desi pop is 'Vote for Ghaghra', and one of the naughtiest is 'Nigodi kaisi jawaani'. Today, that's what I want to talk about: Good, unapologetic, plugged-in pop.'Vote for Ghaghra' is one of our best political songs and certainly the only one I can recall in the post 90s

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-68877543463157908352010-09-28T14:20:00.002+05:302010-09-28T14:43:18.774+05:30

It was past one in the night. I stood outside the old building with a couple of other women. The night shift security guards stood nearby.One woman clicked her tongue and stared into the distance when talking about tomorrow. The day of the Ayodhya verdict. It is enough to say 'The Verdict' these days. Everyone understands. Everyone in our generation at least.The other lady began to point out the

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9939966.post-43909796004875603642010-09-26T01:30:00.002+05:302010-09-26T01:33:37.826+05:30

Not about cha, which too may happen some day. But for now, in Cha magazine, a poem.And a piece where the online journal is mentioned.

Annie Zaidinoreply@blogger.com1