The Damned Grey Area

This Saturday, Amy Winehouse, 27, died, presumably of drug overdose, an event which the whole world had apparently been waging lighthearted(???) bets on. [www.whenwillamywinehousedie.com]

Meanwhile, the country of Norway (considered a champion of peace and humanitarian efforts and one of the biggest contributors to the UN) made a rare entry into the Breaking News, reeling from twin terrorist attacks that have killed nearly 100(?) persons.

My friend then pointed something out to me that ignited this need to understand something. We noticed that on our Facebook walls, tons of people paid a tribute to Winehouse (including me) but it wasn't easy to find one that said R.I.P Killed People of Norway or whatever. Of course the natural reaction of a wannabe-journalist should have been to condemn or to be disgusted with the fb generation's apathy. But since i was one of the RIP-Winehouse-posters, my instinctive reaction was on the defensive. So in twisted way, this conflict created a balance which allowed me to look at this somewhat neutrally.

THE QUESTION. Is our generation doomed because we evidently care more about the death of a popular musician with a figurative timebomb around her neck than the mass killings of innocent civilians in a country far away?

The truth is, we're doomed anyway. But not quite for the reason mentioned above. The sad fact is that most of us, except the News TV addicts most likely heard about Winehouse's death first (Source: FB updates, SMS's, radio.. whatever). In my case I read about the attack, but when i did the news report said 2 people dead so far, so I'm ashamed to say the event did not really register at that time. All the bad news on newspapers have desensitized me. But's lets leave that for another day.
Bottomline is, that i'm quite sure a lot of the current pop-crazy generation did not know about Norway and naturally did not tweet/fb about it. Now that comfortable ignorance is what is highly disturbing.

That being said, lets consider the possibility that everybody did know about Norway when it happened. Still I'm not completely shocked by the fact that Amy Winehouse's death gave people a jolt more than Norway did; I'm being brutally realistic here. Music is such a powerful thing, that it misleads the listener into believing he/she knows the artist personally. So it seems that people connect more to Amy Winehouse, the self-destructive druggie than the innocent 100 of Norway, who they did not know.
I'm not sure how this point of view projects me as a person, but i'm trying to make it as objective as possible. Think about it. If your much looked-up-to 95 yr-old teacher passed away the same time as 300 people in Genovia (yes, I know there's no such State), which tragic loss would impact you more? If it happened to be the former, must we feel ashamed of that? Is it fair to judge people who did not virtually vocalize their distress abt Genovia as much as they did the teacher, whom they did not really know as a person but loved for her teachings?
I'm not sure myself. The selfish truth is that we all only feel pain when it happens to us.

Those who are fortunate enough to not agree with this, you're all much bigger people than I am. The World needs more of you.

Some trivia I found interesting for some reason: Amy Winehouse was arrested in Norway for marijuana possession back in 2007

By the way, if you visit CNN.com's homepage now, it looks like Winehouse is given more space than Norway. Now that I feel is irresponsible journalism. You can't be as lenient with an entire News corporation as you can with individuals.

Image: dailytelegraph.com

First Day of College – TAKE 3!

So here I am again, 6 years after my first time, trying my hand at this college thing once more. There were some significant differences this time however. One, I actually WANT to pursue this course; two, I have absolutely no idea what to expect and three, I’ve never been part of a class which reeked so much of self-confidence. At the orientation programme today we met Mr. Sreekumar Menon whose presence took I think about 90sec to extract a sense of awe, kin-ship and respect from the crowd. He was effortlessly hilarious, and his though he very quickly had the whole crowd wrapped around his little finger, it was quite obvious that his jokes, full of intelligent sarcasm, were ones that you don’t wanna take too lightly. Even when he’s advising us against something, he does it in such a way that you don’t feel pressured.. you just feel stupid for ever having done that something. Because Sree’s da Man.. He might not look it, but trust me you don’t wanna mess with this wise old fellow.
The whole orientation talk maybe lasted an hour, during which he outlined to us the core courses, the structure of the whole course, introduced the other faculty ( consisting of a Ranji trophy cricketer, a musician who supposedly takes part in students’ mischiefs, a raahu-kalam believing dynamic radio journalist etc.. ). He also said something very relevant I think, to many of us present there. He said that during the interviews that we all had gone through as part of the admission procedure, he noticed one thing. Almost all of us apparently mentioned to the panelists one thing, that we chose this course because we love to write (I don’t remember clearly, but I think it’s a safe bet to say that I might have been one of them). He said that he found that admirable, since he himself is petrified of writing, something that made me, and possibly others feel rather small and naïve. Brashly, yet effectively showed us what a disillusioned bunch we were by revealing that our so-called-passion for writing wasn’t exactly shared by the readers of our essays; a comment that was greeted by sheepish laughter. To think that each of us one hundred and fifty students was secretly basking under the perception that our writing talent was something special is quite hilarious.
I was expecting the cream of the intelligentsia with an attitude to match among the student crowd. Can’t say I’m disappointed but thankfully it didn’t feel as intimidating as I expected, at least not today. Everyone was as anxious to make friends, I suppose. Everybody smiled sweetly at each other, exchanged names and backgrounds. An elaborate mating ritual, everybody waiting to meet, to choose that handful of people whose shoulders they can cry on, whose work they can copy, whose car-pool they can join, during the months to come. I played my part, met quite a few people, saw traces of future bitchiness, brilliance, phoniness, stupidity and a lot of hidden dynamism in the relatively quiet ones. But it would be a mistake to start judging prematurely so I’m keeping an open mind and minding my own business as always.
Monday, is when the wheels actually start rolling. An inaugural address by noted, controversial historian Dr. KN Panikkar on "IS DEMOCRACY WHAT DEMOCRACY DOES? REFLECTIONS ON INDIA'S POLITICAL PRESENT" will kick-start the day. I’m reading up on democracy so I don’t unecessarily embarrass myself.
Till next time.

My Sick unhealthy fascination #1

Today I found myself watching on TV, girls trying to convince heiress Paris Hilton to choose them as her BFF (Best Friend Forever).
I'm amazed by how Paris can take herself seriously; how insecure (or secure? I'm not sure) must those 20-something girls be to be willing to portray themselves as such spineless un-intelligent suck-ups on international TV; how can ANYBODY not burst out laughing while walking on a fake red carpet with a maddeningly serene looking Paris Hilton (See photo below for her trademark expression.. drives me crazy.. ALMOST - emphasis on almost - makes me want to watch her infamous sex-tape just to see if she looked that vapid and peaceful even mid-coitus) and face a phoney paparazzi and answer questions like 'How does it feel to be Paris's new BFF?' (Read, Paris's new disposable toy) or 'Do you think you're more famous than Paris?' (No prizes for guessing the right answer to that one)

How sickly self obsessed can a person be to conduct and judge a competition where girls have to try their darndest to look like you (bleached blonde pigtails in Paris's case.. apparently the more unperturbed you are about looking like a drag queen, the more Paris likes you), and the winner gets to be your BFF? How dumb can you be to actually be under the illusion that you actually WANT to be Paris Hilton's New BFF?? I'm baffled! I'm nearly hyperventilating here, yet I cannot bring myself to switch channels; I'm mesmerized by the - i can't even pick a word, absurdity? outrageousness? frivolity?. And after all this, if Paris isn't happy with your level of subservience, you're eliminated, which of course, that would be the end of the world. Forget a cure for Cancer, global warming, diamonds even.. what a girl really wants, is to be Paris Hilton's use-and-throw dummy.

I think Ms Hilton isn't as stupid as she looks. She is a sadistic rich b**** who fills up the voids in her heart with the insecurity of other people.

Or PH's new BFF is simply a show made by sad people starring sad little rich girls, watched by sad people .

The third possibility is that or the whole thing is staged. God knows she has the money to pull it off. The producers are smart and the girls in the show are just really good actors; all of them collectively feeding on the masochistic tendencies of the audiences to raise their TRP's. In that case, what can I say.. the joke's on me.

Nightmare

I've always had very vivid dreams.. nightmares a few as well. This one stood out on the strange-scale and had me pretty weirded out for a couple of weeks. Last July 2010..

It was a fairly big lunch party. 10-20 people from the looks of it. All kinds’ Indian, black and white. A long table was set on the largest open area in a sort of bathroom, a hostel one. People were lounging around the room. A slight disturbance could be noticed among scattered members of the party. Worried looks and puzzled glances. While walking out of hall, I walk by big black man(basketball uniform clad) surrounded by friends, looking very upset. Told myself it was none of my business but when I happened to see him cry just before I shut the door, I asked if he was okay. Big Black man nodded his head vaguely and I walked out, passing the shut door of another room.
Cut to kitchen. Three women were cooking pie. They were joking around at ease. They playfully teased big blonde (4th grade mum in New adventures of old Christine) about being a career woman. Big blonde tells petite blonde that it is good that Petite Blonde has decided to go back to her husband after committing some grave sins. Petite Blonde seems to be in much greater spirits than she was previously. They slice the cheesy pie on a pan which was a bit bigger than the pie itself. Petite Blonde was making up to her husband.
Cut to living room.
Brother’s watching TV. By now, definite bad vibes were apparent. I look out into the sky and see war-of-the-worlds-cloud formation. I tell my brother but he isn’t very shocked as this has seemingly occurred before. So we knew that we’d be safe for a little while longer.
Cut to bedroom. Mother is changing. I ask her if she’s noticing what’s happening. She replies that she hasn’t, but she did realize it was getting darker. I show her the cloud formation. Being too short she, had to crane her neck.
I start walking back to dining room. From a door emerges level-headed Mowlik (or it might have been my dad) who I walk up to. He looks half amused-half concerned. I ask him if his friends inside are okay. He says no, something bad is about to happen. I share my experience of Big Black Man. He nods and walks back in, as I wait. He returns and tells me he does not know what is going on, but his friend just said the world will end on March 17th . March 17th, he says.
I woke up with a jerk.

March 17th of this year is gone.. so hopefully posting this jinxes out the possibility of March 17th, 2012 happening.
Cheers!

Cheerleaders versus Cheerqueens

So one of the new franchisees of the IPL decided to do away with those bold and busty cheerleaders as had become customary, and instead introduce traditional Indian dancers to do the cheering job at the sidelines. What is it with these Pune and Mumbai people that makes them think they're better Indians than the rest of us. I mean look at them: Mumbai INDIANS... Pune Warriers INDIA.. No other teams have India in it do they? It seems to me like they have this inherent need to convince others of their superior brand of patriotism. And then this new cheerleaders development.

For most of us (women, at least) the bimbo cheerleaders were rather annoying and borderline demeaning even, feministically speaking. I wonder if they would have dancing men wearing thongs for a women's version of the IPL... I hope not. Most of these girls especially the foreigners aren't even that pretty.. they just show skin, vapidly smile and dance un-coordinately. And except for the first part, the other two are mighty hard to do in the Indian heat so hats off to them.

What were cheerleaders originally meant to offer to sports, anyway? We've grown up reading books and watching movies that project getting into the cheerleading team as the ultimate fantasy of any high school girl.. which by corollary means that you get to date the soccer captain of course. The idea of an activity developed for sole reason of boosting male egos seems so pointless, frivolous and insulting. Thankfully Indian high schools haven't adopted adopted that particular fad yet. I'm not saying cheerleading is easy. God knows how crazily athletic you need to be to get those moves right, but then why not just call it gymnastics?

Which brings us back to the IPL cheerleaders, who the franchises clearly utilize not because of athletic prowess but only due to sex appeal. Like everything else about the IPL, if you think about it. The IPL is like the pleasure I imagine one would derive from a tasteless energetic quickie.. a one night stand, as opposed to a test match that gives us the satisfaction of a fulfilling marriage.. initial excitement.. ocassional bland patches.. but so much more wholesome. So now that we've justified the role of the cheerleaders in the IPL ie. to tantalise and nothing else, is there a need for the interference of Mohiniaatam, Bharatnatyam and other elegant Indian art forms into this tacky display? Obviously, Subrato Roy, with his righteous moustache 'n all wants to make a statement, but I think its unnecessary. Ultimately, the dancers themselves go through a whole lot of hassles with costumes, make-up and choreography to cheer a crowd that understandably isn't in the mood to appreciate the detailed nuances of such dance forms. It doesn't make sense.

Want to feel Intelligent? Bully Rebecca Black.

By now I think everybody must've heard Rebecca Black's Friday. 99.98% of reviews were terrible, merciless, shameful and indicative of how much we, as a society need to exert our supremacy over seemingly less intelligent entities.
The remaining 0.02% were good reviews, all found in Blacks' official website, by different people who all suspiciously had the same display picture, and names like Drew Peacock. However fact remains that in a week she's raked in abt 15 million views i think. Anyway majority of the flak is being faced by the lyrics of the song; which is the bit I think is a little unfair.

Of course with lyrics like -
Yesterday was Thursday, Thursday
Today i-is Friday, Friday (Partyin’)
We-we-we so excited
We so excited
We gonna have a ball today
Tomorrow is Saturday
And Sunday comes after...wards
I don’t want this weekend to end
- i'd be crazy to deny the sheer stupidity of the writers, but if you look at a lot of artists who're multiple award winners and billboard toppers then you'd have to face the truth that bad lyrics have been a part of our day for years before Rebecca Black. Take a look..

Stop, talk, talk, talking that blah, blah, blah
Think you'll be getting this? Nah, nah, nah
Not in the back of my car, ah, ah
If you keep talking that blah, blah, blah, blah, blah
-Ke$ha, Her debut single, "Tik Tok", released in late 2009, reached number one in eleven countries; Currently doing a tour called Get Sleazy tour..

Womanizer, Woman, Womanizer
You're a Womanizer, oh Womanizer oh
You're a Womanizer, baby
You you you are, You you you are
Womanizer, Womanizer, Womanizer (Womanizer)
-Britney Spears, Disney product, Started off being a poster-child for pre-marital modesty..ended up being married thrice, the shortest one lasting a day?

January, February, March, April, May
June, July....
August, September, October,
November, December
- Boney M (erm.. yea thats the whole song)

So when we've forgiven these stars, even liked their songs, why are we stooping so low as to publicly bullying a 13year old child like Rebecca? I say we, because I've made fun of her myself. But i read some comments that supposedly educated and fashionably disdainful people have written and i was disgusted. There were comments like "I hope you cut yourself and I hope you get an eating disorder so you'll look pretty. ..."
Clearly, this is a sign of extreme insecurity?

Ark Music Factory (the record label that signs these kids) is a conscience-less, money-hungry, manipulative, bunch of masochists who don't care either about the number of youngsters they are leading on, nor about the negative light they are projecting themselves in.. as long as there's good money.

If you need to understand where I'm coming from, watch another video by a 12 year old Jenna Rose called 'My Jeans'. Clearly this sweet kid needs some urgent counseling.

Kids, wait till you're 17 to look sexy and get slaughtered by the media. You won't regret it.

Graduation Day Apathy

March the 26th is our convocation day. The day we get presented our Masters degrees. As tedious as my couple of years in SRMC was, I decided to go, if not for love for the University, at least out of the sentiment that it would probably be the last time the dysfunctional set of MSc Bioinformatics pursuers would be in one place willingly.

[from usnews.com]


I wouldn't even have to take a day off from work I figured. I could just walk in after work on Saturday at about 3, snatch my degrees, say the customary Hi's and Byes to fellow classmates and lecturers and walk off.. maybe after lunch at KFC with the few ones I have some affection for.
But turns out that's not the way Graduation ceremonies work. There's a rehearsal. A bleddy rehearsal.
On the day before. Not just that, we had to report at some unearthly hour to get the robes (I'm taking a wild guess they'll be yellow) and just to keep up with the trend of getting on my nerves, the college has a dress code. And not the kind they enforce every day ie. salwar kameez. They want us to wear Saris.
That was the last straw.
I'll get my degree from the courier man thank you very much.

What a negative attitude to have, many of you will wonder. But somehow I've never been psyched about Graduation Day like my peers. My first graduation, for my bachelors degree in VIT I never went for. Received that by post as well. And looks like it'll be the same this time. While the others cherish this day forever, the caps, the robes, the customary photo with proud mummy/daddy has never been done.

I guess I just haven't felt like I've accomplished something close to me, in my life so far. I've never graduated from something worthwhile enough to me. Hopefully that will happen at some point.

Someday, I too will switch the Graduation Tassel.

Amen!