Being 30

There are days when I wake up from the right side of the bed

Feeling the rare phenomena of emotions in my head.

Emotions that tell me Being 30 isn't so bad after all

And both my head and heart agree on this one call.



The BIG 'O' is quite exaggerated in a sense

It doesn't really just hurl you on the other side of the fence.

30 is that beautiful age of neither young nor old

Its when you actually finally feel brave and bold.



I can speak for myself at least here

2011 has been such a rare and eventful year.

Not because the year had any numerological value

But because as a 30 year old, I experienced it in ways that were new.



It had started with the cold of last December

When I was seeking solitude I remember.

My 30th birthday was quiet and almost boring

But in retrospect, it shaped the course of the year coming.



The year has been fantastic in every which way

I have felt like a real woman almost every day.

I think I know better today about what I want

About what I can have and what I cant.



At 30, I almost feel and look my best

My sense and sensibility constantly put to test.

In a good way that is I mean

One that makes me want to look in the mirror almost with a preen.



This year I have received more attention and highs

Than I had imagined, even in my lies.

Its a different thing it comes in ways I don't really appreciate

But then might as well revel in it before it depreciates ;)



At 30, even living with my parents is now a joy

I was dreading it earlier, being oh so coy.

My folks and I share a much better understanding today

We give each other space and even tolerance, if you may.



I like the fact that I have finally become the older sister

To the bratty but my adorable little brother.

Who till now thought of me as just one of his million friends

But now he listen a bit more, and even support he lends.



I can never forget the excitement of F1 and NH7,

And being in the lap of Himalayas was like being in Heaven.

I don't know if I would have been able to do these things before

Or enjoy them like I did, because of myself now I am sure.



There is no way earlier I would have by myself just taken off

To a place unknown and paths at which people would scoff.

The fear of solitude and unfamiliar that haunted me so long

To some extent was put to rest by a step somewhat strong.



I am glad for the people I met this year new

They brought fun and laughter into my life, even if they were few.

I am lucky for the old friends still here

Because of them I live my life without fear.



At 30, I have been given experiences incredible

To lap life up and live it on a double.

I have done things this year like never before

And maybe after the long hard swim, I will finally soon find the shore.



At 30, I feel more confident about myself and the world

Though I might not be in complete control always - I'm just a girl after all.

A girl that seeks love, happiness and the simple joys of life

And a girl who strives to make it big in the next Five.



All said, at 30, I am still a girl with heart of innocence

Still being stupid and giving in to things nonsense.

But that is the beauty of this age so peculiar

It gives you best of the unknown and also the familiar.



I can still laugh out loud and drink myself silly

And the next day get back to work and be in control fully.

I can get away with being a 'girl' at times

And yet assert myself as a 'woman' that loves all things fine.



For all my fear of turning thirty and jaded

The confusion of who I really am has somewhat faded.

I might not be what I had always imagined

But I am what I am and that's good for me even if I have sinned.



The good thing about 30 is that you learn

To live your life by your own and not others' terms

And yet you can mistakes make

You just about crossed 20s for God's Sake!!!



But now as 30 is soon fading away

I wonder what 31 will have to say.

I'll know in a few days if the feeling will change

Chances are it wont, coz the sun will rise and set just the same.

He's a growing boy, his freinds are just not keeping up - he's a COMPL-ICATED boy!

Remember that famous dialogue from 'Maine pyaar kiya' - "Ek ladka aur ladki kabhi dost nahin ho sakte". I had found it cheesy, very cheesy that time, when I was 10 or something. And for some strange reason, it stuck in my head ever since. Actually, honest confession, quite a few dialogues from that movie stuck in my head, I must embarrassingly admit. Anyway, more on that later. I must not digress.

I studied in a co-ed school where the ratio of boys and girls was I think 3:1. All through school, my best friends have been boys. In college too, we were a group of 2 girls and 3 boys. At my first job, it was 1 me and 4 boys that were my Bandra family. In Chennai, in Bangalore, I have ALWAYS been one of the boys and hence always had boys as best friends.

I think it kind of traces back to my childhood, when we were a joint family with 4 boys and 2 girls under 1 roof. While Didi was the quintessential coy girl, I was the one playing marbles with bhaiya on the roads, I was the one climbing trees, jumping on cars, barging into other people's houses on holi with pichkaris and 'gubbaras'. My mom always tells me that I was meant to be a boy but God got distracted and accidentally made a girl out of me.

Of course that does not mean I do not do justice to being a girl. I think I am as "girly" as it gets, but the fact is that I love making friends with boys. I always have. Like a lot of 'my kinda girls', I have grown up having more boys for friends than girls and it is something I had taken for granted, until now.

Suddenly all these boys got married and really became animals from another planet. I love the concept of marriage and I am very happy for them. I have danced in a lot of their weddings and wished them all well but thing with marriage is that it makes these boys suddenly responsible. Something that hit me suddenly and something I wasn't used to. Its somewhat the same when girls get married too but some how girlfriends always find time and space for girlfriends. These boys really turn a new leaf. Actually not a new leaf, they just turn a different leaf when it comes to girls they are friends with. These boys remain thick with boy friends and they continue hitting on any and every PYT that comes their way. But when it comes to girls they have been good friends with, I don't think they know what to do with them anymore. Clearly the girls are not boys so they cannot make their spouses understand that they are doing a boy's night out with the girls. Girl-friends obviously are no good to hit on so that anyway takes away any iota of effort they would have otherwise made. It really leaves us 'girl-friends' in a very precarious situation.

So what does one do? Foolish ones like me believe they can make new friends. That's the thing with men who have been married for over 5 years at least. By then, I am guessing they are open to making friends again, assuming their marriage is blissful and their children are their bundles of joy. Or some such. I always thought it was just the newly married lot that is so badly behaved with their girl-friends.

In the last couple of years therefore, I have tried making friends out of a few people that I have met and connected fairly well with. I meet a lot of people. All the time. Through my job and because I love meeting people. Its not difficult for me to strike a conversation. By the way, mind you, I am not saying I can hold discussions. I don't think I can - I don't have enough wordly wisdom or knowledge but I can spring conversations and flit from one to the other very easily. And because I have always been one of the boys, because it doesn't strike me that boys have now become men, because I still look forward to making lasting friendships, I have been somewhat hopeful and optimistic about being able to make new friends, sometimes.

And this is where the damn movie dialogue comes rushing back and proves itself true. I am stunned with the realization that truly a man and a woman cannot be friends any more. Invariably there is some higher order agenda that becomes apparent almost immediately. Well thank god for that, that its apparent sooner than later, but still, its a bit annoying.

There are times when I have met someone, had a fantastic conversation, have looked forward to more such conversations. Looked forward to just being able to be "me" in that esteemed company. To be able to say what I want, be free spirited as I once was with my boys, to watch movies, go out for lunch, just hang out, stuff like that, with absolutely NO other motive but to enjoy the other person's company and because we connect, which in itself is such a rarity. But no, it is impossible to have a single such association. It always gets complicated, one way or the other. Either the man gets ideas or the girl starts to fall in love or people make a big deal out of it. MAN! it just gets complicated and unnatural and diluted and that is so sad.

As boys turn into men and girls into women, why does purity of intention go out of the window? Why does everything become so agenda driven? Why do people lose "touch" with people-ness? Why do we forget that friendship is still the most precious and cherish-able relationship because it is supposed to be true, pure and a mirror to life. Do we get so jaded and cynical that we stop valuing it? Whatever it is, it makes Sooraj Bharjatiya damn bloody right.

All's well that ends well - especially when it comes to a room!

My brother and I have lived a middle class existence, as middle class as it gets. We started off with a joint family where the all pervasive Mother-in-law (suddenly I am taking my mom's side) controlled all of us, all decisions for the family. She decided what we ate, when we slept, what we wore and when who went out. Actually, it wasn't as bad as that just appeared to be. Basically, like in most joint families "then" (I don't know what it is like now to be a part of joint family), one senior member of the family was the local bank. And when that happens, we pretty much know who controls the show. Economics can make or break a country, a state, a city and pretty much a household too.

We moved to being a nuclear family pretty early on in life. One of the few reasons I should thank my father's coveted Government job - it got him transferred out of that joint family set up. In retrospect, that was the single most positive thing to have happened to us. There have been hundreds of fantastic occurrences that have taken place in our lives, but if I were to compare, they would all pale in comparison to this one.

Anyway, nuclear as we were, we continued living the middle class existence. For all our growing up years, home was always the government flats that were always located in the best areas of the city but were small and very basic. Of course during those years, size didn't even strike us as a problem. We always managed to make the house a cozy, comfortable home. When we were in Bangalore, we had a 3 bedroom apartment but for some reason, my stupid brother (then, not now. Now he is a super cool dude), would always insist on sharing the room with me. I have NO clue why, but I remember telling my folks that we should have separate rooms so that I could "do up" mine like a girl's room, but my brother just wouldn't allow for it. And since he was the younger brat, guess who always won!

I remember grudging the fact that I could never have a room to myself. Today when I think of it, I realize that even if I did have a room to myself, I doubt I would have been able to do it up as MY room. I don't think I had any aesthetic sense at that point in time.

It was the same story when we moved to Chennai. Actually I guess by then I had gotten so used to sharing my room with my brother that it had ceased being a problem. Though I still remember secretly wishing I had a room to myself.

I did, soon enough. In Mumbai. Of course in hostel I had to share my room with 3 other fantastic girls so we each only got a corner. But I remember, my corner was the most colorful of them all. Photographs, kitsch, cards, stuff. I was happy I had a room with a corner that I could do up with my sensibility and that was a good start.

The corner soon grew into a full room, with sea view, at Carter Rd. How fancy. Actually not. It was all I could afford as an advertising start-up professional. The room was basic, compact, with a bed, shelf, almirah and TV taking up all possible space. I wasn't complaining, I finally got my own room. But I couldn't do much with it. So it didn't feel all that gratifying, not in the least like the end of my journey of seeking MY OWN ROOM.

Like the corner had become a room in Mumbai, the room soon became an entire apartment in Bangalore. 2 rooms, a hall, 2 gorgeous balconies, kitchen et all, all to myself. I excitedly did up the place with whatever I could manage, with how much ever time I could manage before my time was completely dedicated to my boyfriend then. So it wasn't much but it was a decent haven.

I thought that was the end of my journey of seeking my own "space". It probably was. But the little girl who had always wanted her own room that she could do up, was still left un-satiated somewhere. Somewhere, deep down, maybe the little girl never grew up and never gave up wanting a room. Maybe it didn't matter if I had an entire apartment to myself because to that little girl, she never got her room. Until now. Which is why, today, as I have moved back in with my parents, to live with them after 4 years of complete independence, after having gone through the heart ache of giving up my apartment, after having gone through emotional turmoil of leaving behind a lot of me behind in that apartment, I am still sitting peacefully here, in my new little room, writing this blog.

It was a challenge compressing my entire apartment into my small room but suddenly much of my despair of moving back in with my folks has disappeared. I finally have my own room. In my parent's house. Like I should have when I was growing up. But what the hell, I am happy going to back to being a teenager. And no better time for becoming a child again because my parents have grown up (finally) and I guess it all makes sense now.

Bacho. Bachao. Shaitan on the prowl.

Kalki, aka Amy aka Saira aka Shaitan was not actually the shaitan in the film, as has been popularly proclaimed by a lot of people who have watched the film. I dont think Shaitan, the film, is about one particular evil mind but about the devil that resides in each one of us.

It didn't really need a film to remind us that there is an off-beat side to all of us, which when given slight vent, can flare up into a bigger monster. To me, more than the film, it is the background score that reminds me of the wild side that exists in me. For sure. Each time I listen to the music from Shaitan, there is something in me that stirs. For some reason, the small rebel streak in me awakens each time I listen to The Sound of Shaitan. When I listen to Josh, I know I imagine myself in that (damn) Hummer, feeling powerful at the steering wheel (even though I do not know how to drive, leave alone drive a Hummer). When I listen to Hawa Hawai, I can just about imagine myself after smoking a joint, rolling in clouds, flying like a fairy through rainbows, beaming like sunlight on the surface of clear water, being the dew on a fresh morning leaf. Its almost a pretty picture but what makes it "Shaitan-ic" is its out-of-ordinary imagery from my actual real life.

When I listen to Pintya (the somewhat festive song), I imagine myself at a rave, jumping all night to the intensity of each note. When I listen to Khoya Khoya Chand, I reminisce the sense of romanticism I used to feel during each time I struggled with small things. I remember having felt like a character straight out of a movie when once upon a time, my local train had stalled away from Dadar station, and it was raining and my phone was out of battery. For some strange, in-explicable reason, there was some random sense of heroism I had felt, that suddenly, I was away from the familiar territory, I didn't know anyone around me, no one knew where I was and I was out of reach. All I could do was trudge along with the huge mass of other people and slowly find my way back into the city. For some reason, it was a thrilling experience.

You see, none of the above is evil but its an obtuse part of our personality that exists, whether we agree or not, whether we can see it or not. And we don't need to be coke-heads, rich kids with no aim or any such sort to know intrinsically that there is a Shaitan in us, in each one of us.

I feel good knowing I have a Shaitan. I am also scared sometimes knowing there is a Shaitan. Its after all, only a thin line separating us from that Shaitan. Who is to say that if we were not pushed a little, if circumstances did not present them in a different manner, if life did not have other plans, our Shaitan would not come out in exactly the same way that it did for the 5 friends in the film.

To be honest, one of my favorite scenes from the film were when one of the 5 guys takes off his belt to hit himself and in fact out-does the religious man, right in the beginning of the film. The other fascinating bit in the film was the Khoya Khoya Chand sequence. BEAUTIFUL. INCREDIBLE. SORDID and SADISTIC. In a very Tarentino way, the gory scene was juxtaposed with a romantic song and shot in such a soulful manner that it almost romanticized the fight, the blood, the dying and the gore. The way the dead girl is shot at again and again has to be a reflection of a sick mind but appreciating that has to be a sicker mind. The only reason I think one can appreciate that sensibility of the movie is because it related to the internal Shaitan in me and possibly a lot of other people too. What other explanation could there be for that?

When the monkey escapes to tree-less lands

No prizes for guessing who the monkey is here......the mind, the MIND, THE MIND! For all those silly minds that thought anything else but the mind itself, here's a fact that most spiritual gurus would vouch for - our mind is a monkey. Now why it is a monkey and not a rabbit, I don't know. In fact, now that I think about this, a rabbit would be a much more ideal synonym for the mind - after all, like really, what is the human mind most filled of? Rabbit stuff right? Anyhow, getting back to the monkey mind, I think the gurus think its a monkey because it jumps so much. Hahahaha yet again that would make me think of the rabbit but, but, but back to the monkey.

So I am thinking, I am most impulsive when I'm bored. My friend Rose Mary would vouch for this and she ain't no spiritual guru (ok that was a forced pun, though she could be a rabbit - haha). Anyway, so yeah, I'm really quite impulsive when I'm bored. Its a bit strange - poeple are impulsive when they're in love, they're impulsive when they're angry, they're even impulsive when they are in the middle of a busy work day but I'm impulsive when I'm bored. Like right now Im a bit bored and so I am writing this note on being impulsive. I could go to sleep but I am bored because its past midnight, I'm just 3 breezers down and because I have nothing else to do, I am bored.

Anyway, since I am bored, I'm going to let the monkey tell some stories - of thoughts and actions from my bored-diaries!

1) Its a fine Monday morning and I'm traveling in the fancy AC bus to work (its not so fancy by the way, its crowded and annoying most times but works well for me nevertheless). So I am standing in this crowded nonsense bus, BORED, and suddenly the monkey comes knocking. And I think, the best job for a man is to be a bus conductor. Why men haven't figured this out yet is beyond me. The bus conductor, as shabby as he might be, walks up and down, up and down, up and down the crowded bus, brushing himself against people, read ladies. Imagine this, women are packed in a small space, sticking to each other for dear life (even though its a perfectly safe, concealed bus and no one can ever fall down). But we ladies apparently like sticking to each other and then suddenly you have the bus conductor tearing his way through the bevy of women - he HAS to be a happy man. And I have noticed, he will walk through the women a 100 times but when it comes to tearing through the man's world, he doesn't even bother if they haven't bought tickets. No wonder Rajnikanth was an equally happy man when he was a bus conductor as he is now, being a super star.

2) I have just come back home and realize there is no curd at home. I am tired and hungry but grudgingly have to go down 6 floors to buy a box of curd. Of course the 6 floors dont feel much because I use the lift. So I enter the lift, press the button and almost instantly, I am bored. One floor down, the lift stops and a bald man enters. The door shuts and the bald man stands at a safe distance, completely harmless. But because I am bored and I am staring at his head, I have this sudden, insane urge to slap him on his head. Just like that. For no apparent reason. I just want to see what shape his head might take if I were to slap it.

3) One morning, in fact this morning, I was again in the bus, on my way to work. Bored again. So I decided to experiment with something. We are all energies right. So I'm thinking, if I am just energy, I might be able to draw positive energy from some source instead of allowing my energy to go negative by allowing it to be bored. So I decide to send a sweet, pleasant morning message to someone I know, but someone I don't know too well. In fact, this someone is someone I don't know why i know or if I would want to continue to know him or if knowing him really means that I know him atall. All an outcome of a bored mind. But anyway, I sms him saying "Good morning, have a splendid day". He instantly responded saying "Hey, have a great day too, much love". I was right, just a small bored gesture brought a smile to my face and made the red beep of danger zone on low energy shoot up to a happy green, positive energy state.

I could go on writing 4th and 5th and the 6th anecdote, but I have been warned about the length of my blogs so I shall end here. Point I am making eventually? The bored monkey mind is a fun toy. Strange toy. Happy toy. Toy nevertheless. Never stop playing. (and this, as always, is a dash existential masala that I most times end up with)

Ok I go watch Friends now to entertain the monkey!

When ennui sets in...

Its a very pretty Saturday afternoon. Its the start of the weekend after a very hectic and unproductive week. I have no major task to complete. So ideally, I should be happy. But I'm not. I'm bored :( I'm not happy does not mean I'm sad, let me clarify. I'm just bored.

Its Bangalore Bandh today because the political honchos decide they need entertainment at the cost of our boredom. I have no clue whats happening in the political arena in this city - I have lost all interest that I had managed to develop over the last couple of years thanks to K. But with K gone, so has watching news, reading newspapers and other such. Good and bad, isn't it?

I played with my fish. Got my finger licked several times by my favorite blue fishy. I cleaned both the tanks. I fed them. I took a power nap too. I tried reading as well, unsuccessfully. I called up Rose, the only "any time call up bud" I have now, as much as I hate to admit it. And I am still bored. So well, I decide to spend some more time attempting at making this space look more like a blog, and less of empty white space. But my bored mind is wondering what to write about. I am sure if any one has managed to read thus far will also be infected by my boredom and quit reading this, never follow my blog again and may also delete my number from his/ her phone book or the worst possible, knock me off Facebook.

Oh thats far too much pressure. Added to that is the stress of making sure I keep my writing short. No stream of consciousness. No rambling on. No wonder I'll never get to be the next Virginia Woolf or Tennyson. The world has no clue what they're missing out on.

But I don't give up this easily. What I am going to do is this - I will write about all those small silly things that happen around me that I call stories. Just the other day I was having a drink with some one and as usual, I was talking incessantly about myself. Yes, the world still revolves around me, as Shants would laugh and say. But its true. I love talking about my stories, about the several things that happen to me and around me. But getting back to the point, I was having a drink with someone and he was like, how do you have so many stories, I have very few and not half as interesting. And then I came up with one of those profound gems, that I usually do (how modest). I said I have no stories, I just like story telling so that even the small happenings around me sound likes stories. All of us have stories around us all the time. It only depends on whether we choose to see them and tell them as stories.

Therefore, the good news is, this is what I will probably do. Write stories that have fascinated me, amused me, hurt me, cracked me up - stories that have made me ME :)

So until next time then.

Dhobi Ghat. Where dreams and reality merge.

Pratiek Babbar is delicious. I am sorry but this is what I need to start this with. And that shouldn't be a surprise. From all the trailers that I had watched so far, Pratiek had seemed the most intriguing and thankfully he completely lived up to the expectations.

As did the movie. It is pretty much as I had anticipated it to be. Arty. Intellectual. Understated. Subtle. Beautiful. Real and surreal at the same time. The only bit that I hadn't really bargained for was for it to be somewhat predictable.

Kiran Rao has done a commendable job. Starting from the characterization to the crispness of the film, to the simplicity and ease with which she has portrayed her story and of course the sound track. The sound track is what first caught my fancy. Its a track that confuses me a bit, intrigues me for sure and haunts too, but in an interesting kind of a way. It strikes an emotional chord but not the regular sentimental, pity, sympathy kind of a chord. Rather, it evokes a sense of purposelessness, you know the feeling you get when you know the way, you have the map and yet you feel like you're lost. Or maybe the feeling you go through when you are in the middle of a crowd, with people buzzing all around you and yet you feel alone, really alone and the realization neither depresses you nor does it excite you. Its just a realization. Its just a feeling. The feeling of "just".

Pratiek Babbar is a replica of Smita Patil and even more intense and mysterious, if possible. His eyes and his smile do all the work for him. Especially his smile; says a thousand words. He plays his character in a sort of a perfect manner - vulnerable but determined, young but mature for his age, the slumdog and a hero, not "but" a hero. Very well done. What else can I say for something that itself is so understated that using more words than these would almost be criminal.

Amir Khan of course is an enigma that only intensifies further in this movie. Once again its his eyes that I noticed. He has beautiful eyes. I always knew that but they were much more accentuated here. The artist look does his persona great justice. The dash of grey in his hair, his painter look, smoking almost like an amateur and his canvas - all put together form a fairly 'typical' picture but its somehow not a cliched image. And once again, 'you know what I mean'.

The two new women also come across as very genuine. I know I am being very biased here with words reserved only for the men. Pratiek is too delicious to think of anyone else.

The movie is not mind-blowing (because I already said its a bit predictable) but its definitely a must watch. It's pretty succinct story telling which is interesting. It doesn't try too hard, is not in your face, does not show the same old Mumbai with its over-abused "spirit" and the over-amused world-famous-in-mumbai slums. The movie neither shocks nor entertains, it neither depresses nor does it set you off on an existential tangent. Its just real. And its well rounded. Its subtle and its normal. Thats what it is, its normal.

And who else would feel it like that more than me! Especially the part where Shai feels this inexplicable bond with Arun for no apparent reason, where she is attracted to him and is drawn to his persona not because of any other reason but because in life, this happens. We don't always need reasons to feel a certain way about people we've just met, we don't always need to substantiate our feelings or even our thoughts. We don't need to conform just as we don't need to always stand out. That's probably what the movie too aims at telling us, at a level. Shai's intrigue with Arun, Arun's bond with Yasmin, Munna's justifiable attraction to Shai and Shai's confusing friendship with Munna - none of these are normal, neither are they abnormal. None of these bonds, these relationships, these instant connects make you question them. There is almost this natural understanding you feel within. Its nice. Refreshing.

And you know what else is really nice, really refreshing? Its Pratiek Babbar - really, he truly is very delicious!

Of bling, thing, dares and bares - the Circus is in town!

For all those who know me well will know that I have been wanting to go to the circus for a very long time. Well actually, maybe people don't really know that fact is, I really have been wanting to go to the circus for a long long time. I remember when I was in Mumbai and the Russian Circus had come to town, I pleaded with quite a few of my friends but none of the stone-hearts relented.

So imagine my joy when after 6 years from then, my phone beeps last week and the SMS simply reads "Magic Show or Circus"! Even as I write this blog right now, I am smiling ear to ear remembering how overjoyed I was that finally there was a chance to go to the circus. Doma, my maverick mad poet friend had suddenly re-appeared as the messiah of excitement; that's what I have promised myself throughout 2011. Quick recap - my new year promise to me is to be back in love with life. So well, how do I do that? By finding joy in the small things that make life so much more live-able.

So here is a quick run through of my fun day at the Circus yesterday :)

2:30pm I took an auto and went to the Lifestyle junction to meet Doma. It was a pretty pretty sunny day, not too much traffic, Bangalore felt a bit like the Old Bangalore, possibly in the same anticipation as me to re-live our old days. I see Doma sitting by his dusty, almost coming apart, kinetic Honda and I beam - Kinetic Honda ride to the circus!!!! The fun begins right here!

It was a fun fun fun ride. The Circus was at Palace Grounds (where else in this city could it be anyway). I am dramatic, we all know that so picture this - we are almost at the venue; I see Giant Wheels, 2 of them and I want to leap with joy. Of course they were adjacent to the circus venue, at Fun World (so I've already promised me my next fun experience) but they set the context to the afternoon. I could feel the excitement build up. As we reached the venue, a sea of people and dust welcomed us, just like the circus has always known to do.

I don't think I have words or even pictures to capture the moment (I forgot to take my camera). Families with little kids swarmed towards the BIG BOMBAY CIRCUS. Lots of people were queued up in front of Rs. 40, 100, 250 stalls trying to buy tickets. (Doma was well planned and had bought us tickets the day before). I had my stoll completely wrapped around my head, covering my face as I didn't want dust in my hair and on my face - really it all looked like a set from the movies. I was pleasantly surprised to see that all kinds of people (I mean including firangs) had come with their families to the circus. It was heartwarming to realize that people haven't grown out of this bit of entertainment (phew). I was happy to note that some kids even in today's day and age will grow up knowing what a Circus is like and not just see references of it on TV or on their video games.

So anyway, we walked all around (by which time my feet were completely covered in dust. Damn why didn't I wear closed shoes and I damn, I dont know why this is relevant piece of information). We went to the stall to buy water and then walked into the grand gates of the circus. I do not remember much from the last time I had visited to the circus (about 25 years ago) but as I stepped in, I was transported into a different world, a world that doesn't really exist, a world that seemed like a dream. Dreams that the regular middle class India escapes to every time the harsh reality gets a bit boring or monotonous.

The first thing that greeted us was the animal smell. Yeah its not very pleasant but its only as unpleasant as you will yourself to believe. Its from the elephants. On the left hand side, 3 some what biggish elephants were getting ready to be the stars of the show. Doma was excited to see elephants. I was just excited. We walked a bit further and saw a HUGE purple velvet banner with gold lettering :The Bombay Circus: This was going to be a glorious afternoon, I was sure of that the minute I saw the banner - there was something about the colors, the design, that was so convincing about the magnanimity of what awaited us further. It was a small walk-through to the doors and on both sides of the walkway were old pictures from 1970's of the famous Bombay Circus and even more famous personalities that had visited the circus to make it as famous. From Indira Gandhi to Rajiv and Sonia Gandhi to Lal Bahadur Shastri to Surya and even a morphed image of Hrithik Roshan and Priyanka Chopra, all these people had once visited the circus as we did now and just with that, we joined the hall of fame at the Great Bombay Circus. (even though we might never make it to the wall of fame).

And now as we entered the real venue, I am turning this into present continuous, just to be able to capture the essence.

One step inside and its a kaleidoscope personified. Vibrant green, yellow, red and orange colors make up the tent, stage and seats. It all comes rushing back - the same, identical setting. Nothing has changed. Nothing at all and I am not sure whether that's a good thing or not. I tell my mind not to be biased by existential questions for the time being and surprisingly, my mind listens to me this one time. See, that's the magic of Circus :)

So we have the VIP Rs.250 tickets, seat numbers B3 and B4 - RIGHT IN FRONT. Though I am not sure where the A row is - coz we were really right up front. As we take our seats, we hear rolling of drums and I look up to notice the Circus Band. OMG! There is the circus band too! Just like its always been. WOW! (I dont know if I am able to convey my excitement but it was really exciting). The arrangements are extremely well done and there is absolutely no chaos. Everything is being done in a very orderly manner, very pleasant execution (and now its the marketer in me talking).

At sharp 4:00pm, 3 young girls wearing the typical circus costumes (I don't know what they're called) - highly sequenced blingy swimsuit kinda outfits step into the arena. And before we realize the circus has begun, they soar into mid air and start off the show with a beautiful, breezy stunt. Its not just beautiful but elegant and joyous and highly commendable. All the 3 girls bear a smile on their face and show eagerness to wow the crowds with every move. And the crowd responds. Claps from all around fill the circus tent - the show has really begun!

Next in line is the Circus parade by all members of the circus. Bling like bling can be costumes, flags swaying, beautiful women, daring men, dwarfs, elephants, dogs, camels and horses, all come out in one grand procession to show the audience the true glory and grandiose of the Bombay Circus. A sight that I will now remember for a long time to come, a sight that stood as testimony of the belief that each member of the circus displays - how much ever the world around us might change and progress, the intrinsic in us must go on. The circus is as intrinsic in us as it is in the performers and if you don't believe me, visit the circus and tell me what you feel and think. (Hush now my ever active finding-meanings mind).

From that moment to the next 2 hours, it is circus EXACTLY the way its always meant to be. Performances after performances - jugglery, clown antics, Super krishna and the girls on cycles, Dome of Death, gymnastics, Elephant cricket, Dogs march, other names that escape my mind right now to the last Grand Finale Trapeze stunt. Words fail me here. I don't know if it was that serial long long ago on DD (SRK's 2nd TV serial) Circus or the movie Mera Naam Joker or just the fact that maybe circus is in our DNA, but whatever it is, it makes me want to jump with joy, hug the artists, get on to that net, swing in the air and be a child again. Thank you Circus for the 2 hours of joy and gasps and claps. It is indeed a beautiful experience.

And now back to past tense.

The way the young boy's body moved when he stood upside down and did a reverse split in air and the way the hoopla girl's waist swayed with grace and even seduction and the way the girls on the cycle looked happy and chirpy on their bikes (a shot from the 70's bollywood really) and the way the hunter man swung his hunter with such precision - I was amazed at the level of perfection that each showed. One of the acts was with this girl lying upside down with a high apparatus clipped to her legs - it had 10 notches and a basket on top. Her task was to bounce a ball notch by notch and take it up to eventually put it in the basket. She had to try 4-5 times to eventually get it right and I saw the entire crowd sitting on the edge of their seats, hoo-ing and haw-ing each time the ball fell. Mesmerizing. Almost like the last over of a cricket match. When she finally basket-ed the ball, there was unanimous applause - such euphoria. Amazing. Really amazing. So many more such acts clubbed with the clown trivial jokes that still looked funny and we all laughed together, made the dreamy circus a REAL experience.

The trapeze was the final act. Short but high on suspense and tension. A miss of a split second could have made the last 2 hours of joy into a feeling of remorse and no one might be more aware of that than the daring gymnasts. It was glorious watching those men fly all around. Simply awe-inspiring. And with that, the circus came to and end, but my excitement had just begun. As had my curiosity. This is when the rational mind really got very restless and urged me to put it back in its place, back to where it belongs - to the most conscious spot. And it almost came back with vengeance. So I suddenly felt the urge to go back stage or in this case, back tent, as would be appropriate usage of terminology, and check on the conditions of these fascinating people. We started moving towards the big curtain but were stopped. My bambiaya hindi came of great use here, much to our rescue. I talked "bhaiya ji" into letting us go to the forbidden land after much coercion and that was yet another world that we were transported to.

The highly talented, skilled team of the circus that shone is glitter and bling, where each member had a smile on their face and had relentlessly performed antic after antic to perfection, must really have some zeal and "balls" to put up such a fascinating show despite the below-living-condition-standards that they live in. Broken tents as their homes that we caught glimpse of was probably just the tip of the iceberg. There must be all kinds of stories, some horrid, some motivating, some depressing and yet some very inspiring that must echo from the empty holes they call homes. Maybe some day I will be able to write about that too, if I get a chance to know the circus better and more closer. Yesterday, all I caught was a glimpse before we were shoo-ed away from the "strictly no entry" area.

For now, its hats off to the circus. It was 2.5 hours that made me a child again and made me smile and clap non stop and giggle and shout, like I don't get to do very often. The other time that I was probably close to being this excited was when I had climbed a tree and listened to Indian Ocean for the first time. More on that another time. Right now, its all about the Circus. Go if you can and be a child again. We all need a dose of the Circus and the circus needs all of us to keep this fading form of entertainment alive.