Tweet, Tweet and a Fairy Tale Weaves.

Image source for this picture

The story was ‘The fiery sun’ and before the team started; they decided that copyright would not belong to anybody.

I saw them weave their story on Twitter and was amazed at how the story was unfolding. Four tweeple (I was not sure if they knew each other- but I assumed they were friends) were tweeting a story. The story was for Pratham books that had enthralled the blogger world with their write-a-thon to celebrate the International girl child with ‘The upside down story’.

On the twitter, they had invited tweeple to create one story and Asmita had taken up this challenge.

She put up her tweet-request to make a team and like a relay, each one wrote 5-6 tweets and then passed on the writing baton to the next participant. Asmita kept track of the story with a handle #swpb (story writing for PrathamBooks) which she would collate and post it on her blog.

I was following the story and was very impressed with the talent out there, Ratna wrote:

I reached the tree, bent down to pick 1 stone. To my surprise, it wasn’t a stone at , but a tiny, ice-cold blob of sparkly jelly! I put it in my mouth – silly me? – and it melted instantly into a mouthful of delicious, cool coconut water. I quickly gobbled 20 mouthfuls till my thirst was gone. Then i lay down under tree – a cool, dark place that smelled faintly of vanilla & dreamed.

Although the story was expected to be completed in one day with 100 tweets, it tweeted on for three days. The participating tweeple came in their own free time and tweeted the story, passing on their writing baton to the next person after their turn. I had decided that I would give my feedback at the end of the story but the story was so amazing that I could not wait no more. I wanted to cheer all the writers whom I knew.

My twitter chat with Asmita

Me: Loved the way your story is shaping out

Asmita: Would you like to add to the story?

Me: Ah! I wish I had joined in earlier, now your story is in its last leg, no? It’s truly lovely and you are doing good

Asmita: Even if we are at end you can join up, continue the story or end it. It is a collaboration effort- no hard and fast rule to it.

Me: Thank you so much, I am so very tempted to join in but it doesn’t seem fair to me to butt in last minute – maybe next time.

I slept off after the chat but in the morning I had change of mind and decided to give it a try.

Me: On the second thought- maybe I should, it sounds fun, pass me the baton please. And I was in…..just for few tweets. I wrote:

I looked closely at the gold handle, turning it upside down, round and round, examining each part running my finger over it. It was smooth. Too smooth, what a strange handle? The picture of that delicious map has shown that it was attached to the tree but I couldn’t see any hook, how will it fit on the tree, and how do I find that tree? Maybe Jin might know. The animal-shaped plants had said that he helped everybody, maybe he is somewhere around.

“Jin, Jin, where are you there? Can you hear me? Please help me.”

I looked around waiting for Jin to appear. There was no sign of Jin. Silence everywhere except those faint distant sounds of ‘“tabala tabala hiri hiri boom” I kept the handle aside and then saw those pair of rose-colored spectacles. They looked so pretty and I tried them on, suddenly …

No, I couldn’t end the story…there was much too much excitement to it…I tweeted only as far as my images clicked into my mind (was still warming up) with just about 8-9 tweets only and passed on the writing baton to the next one….and before I realized the story had swirled around into such a beautiful story somersaulting my imagination.

I have memorized every scene. Now I wait to catch hold of a child, straddle him on my lap to relate this story..and experience the bliss of story telling

To read the full story, please click here

Dear Vodafone and Crossword, Do You Really Care…..??

When the event in a remote area where there is no proper restaurant in its vicinity, it is important to have a cafeteria where one can soak their dry lips.

Last week I was invited for Vodafone Crossword Book Awards 2011 by my friend, Dipti at NCPA.

Normally whenever I go for any event I always make sure that I have eaten enough so as to not crave for food but on that day, being a Ganpati festival, I went visiting few places before going for this event and didn’t get much time to eat. (I don’t call sweets and Prasad as food and sweets are normally No! No! I avoid sweets)

So, I was hungry.

The event began, with Lillete Dubey as the host, presenting the show. I started to rummage through my purse to find something to eat and found a small packet of dry fruits. Pleased that I had something to munch on, I watched the show.

The show was quite interesting, with the 7-year-old Keshav’s beautiful performance on tabla, (Remember Kehsav, the one who had performed at “Rhythms of India”, the opening event of the Commonwealth Games (CWC) opening ceremony?) He never fails to enthrall the audience.  This was followed by the poetry performance by his mom- Ms Gopika Dahanukar and then of course the main event itself –VodaphoneCrossword Awards 2011.

I earnestly wanted my friend Annie Zaide (who was nominated) to bag that 3 lakhs money prize for her non-fiction work ‘Known Turf’ but it was not to be and I was disappointed.

My hunger grew stronger.

Dipti and I walked outside the auditorium looking for a cafeteria. A big buffet table was set with neatly arranged tables and chairs but (wait a minute) ONLY FOR THEIR ESTEEMED GUESTS. The waiters walked in and out of the kitchen with shiny silver trays laden with exotic snacks and I looked on hungrily like a starving street child. I tried to enter the dining area but the volunteers blocked me, asking me for a white-dinner coupon. White-dinner-coupon? Huh? I looked into the invitation envelop, nopes..there is no such coupon! I have been discriminated!!! There was no food, neither a drop of a drink for a commoner like me. I had no idea that my invitation card did not have the dinner-coupon. I offered to pay for the dinner but they refused. I did see some of the ‘esteemed guests’ begging for dinner coupons for their ‘commoner’ friends but I was not about to beg for such invitations. 


This was too embarrassing for me.  

How much does the dinner cost anyways? huh?  If, considering that more than 20 lakhs have already been spent on this event (that includes prize money, auditorium booking, participants, publishers and readers) can’t they spend extra few pennies to make dinner available to all the attendees, those who remove time from their busy life and honor their show? After all its going to be common people who will give them business, isn't it? Of the 1000 people attending the show, there must have been only 100 commoners like me. Is it so expensive to cater to those too? Why so much stinginess on hospitality?

Dear Crossword and Vodaphone, Thank you very much!! This is what I would call penny wise, pound foolish!!!

It was late evening and I was too tired to go to any fancy restaurant, I just wanted to eat something to stop those restless hunger pangs. We decided to go to a vegetarian restaurant opposite Churchgate station. It was closed. We looked for another restaurant inside the station, it was closed too. We started to walk towards the train and on the platform there was a tiny, sleepy kiosk, selling wafers and snacks. I bought two Samosas for myself and I almost puked because of the stale oil.

Bad day indeed!

I had a noodles soup for dinner at home.

Good Indian Girl

My friend launches a new book called ‘The Bad Boy’s Guide to Good Indian Girl” and sends me the promo on U-tube.

While making this promo, she had asked me if I was a good Indian girl, but I couldn’t think of anything intelligent/dumb thing to say, in fact I was not even concentrating on the word ‘girl’. I was just thinking if I was a good Indian person. But this is a tricky question.

I do what I please; I had memorized 'Gita' page by page and have forgotten it too. I decided to my live according to the rules etched in my mind. Basic thing is to do what you think is right and not be influenced by other people’s opinions. If I were married, maybe (I repeat maybe) I would have looked after my lazy and pampered family too (their laziness would be the result of my pampering) because during my childhood I had seen my elders dote on their men and little boys in the family. By nature, I am calm, cheerful, although sometimes aggressive too, ( especially if the things don’t go to my liking) go on…judge me, Am I a good Indian girl? Who decides?

I have travelled around the world and met many girls from different walks of life.

Each individual’s personality is shaped with the respect to their environment that they have been raised into. Those from broken homes have different perspective to life. Many of them are abused in their childhood and they develop an aggressive behavior. The Indian girls who are raised in the foreign countries are more exposed to western culture. Although most of them belong to secured Indian family, many of them are confused lot. They cannot decide as to what are the right etiquettes that will be acceptable when they visit their family home in India. If wearing a saree and making a good cup of tea makes one a good Indian girl then they would be willing to learn that too. (In many Indian homes, it becomes mandatory to know the basics of cooking and outside food is strongly discouraged.)

Whenever NRI’s visit their cousins in India, they see the different culture. They discover that their cousins in India are more religious, (well, most of them) God fearing and do listen and respect their parents. They look after their grand-parents and maintain a special bond with their close relatives. They are caring and understanding and will happily nurse you if you are in distress. NRI cousins admire the Indian’s great tolerance and patience and their willingness to forgive easily

But does that mean that girls who are raised abroad are bad girls? Is having a mind of your own a bad option? What do the Indian girls think about their NRI cousins?

Indian cousins admire their NRI’s cousins and think them to be very fortunate. They accept their rudeness, their drinking and smoking habits, their late nights to the clubs, their freedom to talk to opposite sex without any inhibitions, their carefree attitudes. Although, one common question that every Indian girl will ask her NRI cousin is why do they need a tissue paper 24X7? Deep thought there! Personal care is the last option for every conservative girl. ‘Me first’ is a very selfish option.

While living in Spain I noticed that people are very friendly. There was no high or low caste/class. Every one greets other with equal jest and respect (unless they have personal issues).You can share stories/opinions with the taxi and bus drivers, with the electrician and carpenters, with store salesmen and their bosses. You could go alone to a coffee shop and start a conversation with a stranger.

Different people have different ideas and devise their own scale of judgment.

Most of us (in India) cannot or won’t express our feeling too openly, because we live in fear of being rejected, of being judged, of being branded as social outcast. We are kind and compassionate, even to those who hurt us, we pretend to forget and forgive, we keep a smile and move on, and we lead a double-faced life.

My friend posts a FB status that says “I'M A HANDFUL - unfortunately most women WON'T re-post this. I'm strong willed, independent, a bit outspoken, and I tell it like it is. I make mistakes, I am sometimes out of control and at times hard to handle but I love and give with all my heart. If you can't handle me at my worst then you sure don't deserve me at my best. If you are a HANDFUL, re-post! I dare you..I'll be looking for the ladies who re-post”

I asked her “Are you a good Indian girl?’ and she replies “not a chance..not even trying.” And I am set thinking if the above status makes you very un-Indian?

I am still searching the meaning of a ‘Good Indian Girl’. Maybe a good Indian boy could answer that…………..

Birthday Party of One-year-old

 9th of August, I am invited for the children party at 5pm and I decide to go. And why not? The kid is my sister’s grandson, who is celebrating his first birthday.

I reach his house on the dot of 5pm (thinking that rightfully children's party should be betwen 5pm to 7pm) but the kid is still in his nappy’s. His birthday suit was brought the last minute and his pants were long, so his mom had gone back to the shore to do some alteration. He is dressed in his new shirt and a nappy. Cute!

“Happy Birthday dearest Hirankh” I say handing him his birthday gift. He slaps the gift few times and then throws it aside. (what does he care if I braved the heavy rains and spend thirty full minutes at a toy store searching an approriate gift which is educational and musical, quite suitable for his age- a musical tea-set which sings different rhymes every time you pour out the content from the kettle into the cups)

“Won’t you open the gift and see what I got you” I say, he looks at me and grins,takes another small plastic toy and stuffs it in his mouth. He just has two teeth up and two teeth down and he is always putting things in his mouth.(to stop the itching perhaps)

 
I start to sing a nursery rhyme, “twinkle, twinkle, little star…” he gets interested. I have been singing this same poem since last six months with actions and now he had learnt to recognize it and imitates my gestures for this poem.

 
I feel good that he is responding and want to sing more nursery rhymes, but the little master with short attention span, soon he is bored and shifts his attention to more plastic toys to stuff into his mouth.

His mom returns from the store and dresses him up and he is ready for his friends. He crawls to the hall which is decorated with lots of baloons and streamers.
 

His first guest, a 14-months-old, arrives at 6pm, one hour late. A loud music to full volume is played and both the kids shake heads and hands as they sit opposite each other.

Soon more friends arrive, all under five-years old. All shy at first, hiding behind their mom’s legs but with little nudging they start to smile and are attracted by the basket full of toys kept in the middle of the room.
 

Hirankh loves kids and he is gurgling and babbling, happy to be amongst so many kids around him. He rolls on the floor, tries to stand up, falls, stands up again, shakes his head and enjoys the music. They play with soft toys, kicking ball, squeezing the noisy toys and jumping on a bean bag. The care-takers stand at a small distance, alert, watching the kids while mothers discuss the likes and dislikes of their children.

Potato wafers and smiley-shaped snacks are served and all kids move to the centre table, nibbling the wafers and dropping some on the floor. Its 7pm and the party has just begun.

The party goes on till 8 pm when the birthday baby cuts the cake.

This was a fun party where I enjoyed one-year-olds interacting with each other…….

“Dare to Dream” I am Kalam

Children are the best performers and there is no doubt about that. They have the sincerity and powerful expressions that bring life even to a dull story.

This week I received an invitation from Smile Foundation for the preview of the film “I am Kalam”

Smile Foundation is the NGO that believes that the desired changes in the lives of underprivileged children will come only when more and more privileged people start participating proactively in finding a solution. The Foundation also believes that the only way to ensure a better future for these children is by educating them.

Keeping that vision in mind, the central theme behind the film “I am Kalam” focuses on need for education to change the destiny for a better tomorrow with the powerful message of ‘Dare to dream’.

The film is set in the remote area of Bikaner, Rajasthan and shows the brighter side of India. For once there are no slums, helplessness and poverty or any other negative aspects of India. It was pleasant to watch the colorful and ethnic beauty of Rajasthan. The folk music added the glamour to the film. I loved the scene where different musicians from different culture strike a chord on different instruments and produce a striking harmony at the road-side dhabba

There was no moment of boredom as the story progressed, although its more of a fairy tale about the friendship between prince with a commoner, each one happy in the other’s company, learning and exchanging knowledge while the adults unaware about their friendship. The poor friend conveniently climbs up to tree and sneaks into the prince’s bedroom to play with his toys and Prince too, sneaks out on the streets and learns to climb trees and sit by the lake without the knowledge of his conservative family.

The scene that impressed me the most was when Chottu (Harsh Mayer) goes to the hotel delivering tea, seated on a camel and peeping through windows, asking “Want tea madam?” The part of the palace is converted into a heritage hotel, but has no in-house kitchen and has to depend on Dhabba for their daily meals and tea. (lucky Dhabba has no competition)

Nevertheless, it still amuses with its witty dialogues and sparkling cinematography which makes the film a visual treat.

'I am Kalam' celebrates the survival of a human spirit and has a ‘feel good’ factor, it's simple and yet quite moving.