My People - Tibet

As I said when I first mentioned her on this blog, my friend Tibet has nothing to do with the country or its politics. If she did though, she'd probably forget all about it. Because the thing about Tibet, apart from the fact that she's hands down the most instantly lovable person I've met, is that her memory is legendary. And I mean this in a very Barney legend-waitforit-ary kinda way.

There are a dozen Tibet stories that defy common human imagination.

Like the time she got off at Churchgate station and tried to take a cab to Eros cinema (for non-Bombayiites, it's right across the station).

Or the time she stood in the door of the train at Dadar and forgot to get off at Matunga Road (the station that comes right after Dadar).

Then there's the time she told a famously squint-eyed classmate to "Look at me when I'm talking to you, dammit!"

I've known her for the past 11 years and she's still more likely to forget my birthday than remember it. She has great comic timing with no comic intention and her idea of cheering me up is telling me about the penile worms her Labrador has or about the dead rat they found on her fridge the other day.

I remember her in my mind's eye the way I first saw her in college: a jolly, plump girl in tight jeans and a tucked in man's shirt, shoulder-length hair and the biggest, happiest, most genuine laugh I've ever seen or heard.

I remember her telling me that the only thing she wanted in her guy was a sense of humour. That was it. The gods gave her a man who fit the bill and today she's the mother of a precocious 4-year-old, with a job she doesn't hate and a life in the suburbs with husband, daughter, in-laws and dog - the Indian Dream, so to speak.

Talking to her makes me feel like I'm 17 again. Telling her my problems makes them seem funny. Hearing about her life takes me away from mine and sometimes that's what's really needed. I feel protective about her and she's the only person with whom my phone conversations end on an 'I love you'.

I'd once offered to kidnap her when her life got too tough to handle. Tibet, babe, I know you're reading this because you have shitloads of time on your hands. So before your boss notices that you're faffing around, I just want you to know this - the offer still stands. And always will.

My People

All of us have them. People who've come to be important to us. Friends, lovers, siblings, parents, and those whose relationship with you goes beyond such labels. People who defy the season-reason-lifetime rule and pretty much just stick around in your life, for better or for worse. Whether they'll be around in the future, who knows? But life without them would be nothing like it is now. So the next few posts (unless events of world-shattering importance occur) will be dedicated to some of these people, some of whom have already been mentioned on this blog over the years. My people. And I'm going to start this series with Tibet, because the idea for these posts came during a phone conversation with her last night.

Watch this space.

Blast To The Past

The other day, we were reminiscing about old TV shows that we liked as kids. Shows that had captured our minds and TV sets around the time 'Happy Divaully from Starrr Plus' came to be replaced by the storm that was Zee TV.

Banegi Apni Baat, for instance.

It was sort of like an Indian Beverley Hills 90210. It was cool, about college kids, their problems, relationships, blah, blah, blah. And gasp! It showed people kissing! Like real-real kissing. Not the stupid peck-on-the-cheek type. Not the come-so-close-it-looks-like-you're-kissing-when-you're-secretly-not type. Full on kissing, boss. Dillagi, another show, also did this, but since the people involved were old (when you're 12, 25 seems ancient) and not that nice looking, it didn't count. BAB, on the other hand, had college kids kissing, no, wait, COLLEGE, as in place I'll be at in four years, which has BOYS in it, who apparently KISS you!

And it handled subjects like teenage pregnancy, drug use, dysfunctional families, single parenthood and a whole lot of other shit that was mindblowing, shocking, controversial.

Let's face it, it was COOL. Not to mention, in the 1990s, progressive to the point of being almost alientating.

Cut to the year 2009.

You switch on the TV and see - Utaran, Balika Vadhu, Agle Janam Mohe Bitiya Hi Keejo, Chittod Ki Rani Padmini Ka Johur and any number of soaps that are clones of each other in their plots, characters, costumes, values and pretty much everything. Especially in the wonderfully unifying element of being completely, totally regressive.

Seriously. Watch any of these shows for more than 5 seconds and you get pelted with ideological gunfire from the 1800s that tells you to forgive a cheating husband, mutely tolerate abuse at the hands of your in-laws, accept ill-treatment as part of your destiny as a girl, stay steeped in self-esteem issues because you're dusky and be ok with dowry, child-marriage, sati, the caste system and pretty much every social evil that has plagued India since the time the East India Trading Company was just a gleam in Victoria's eye.

All in the name of Indian values and the importance of family.

My question is this:

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH US?

Did we embrace BAB and its ilk because they represented a modernity and similarity with Western culture that we dreamed of but didn't have? And by that logic, are we lapping up the Zee-and-Star Plus shitfest because we secretly ache for the past, where women were women and men were men and patriarchy ruled common sense?

What is it? Someone needs to find out. Because every pair of eyeballs glued to these little kaleidoscopic (and hence warped) windows to the Utopian past is dragging us back to the dark ages.

And I thought it was just our politicians...