Annie Zaidi's Blog, page 45
March 11, 2012
Here a slap, there a slap, everywhere a slap-slap
I got off lightly. I mostly suffered communal slaps. When I say 'communal', I mean it was a community experience. The whole class would be lined up and the principal would deliver a slap on each cheek, one after the other. Thwack! Thwack! Next, thwack!
Eventually, my mother cited CBSE rules and put a stop to thwacking once she took charge of the school. But by then, a whole generation had grown
Eventually, my mother cited CBSE rules and put a stop to thwacking once she took charge of the school. But by then, a whole generation had grown
March 8, 2012
Review: The Other Country: Dispatches from the Moffusil
The Other Country is a collation of Mrinal Pande's recent columns for newspapers like the Mint, Telegraph and The Hindu. What makes the enterprise worthwhile is Pande's insights into the forces that push, pull or distort the world's largest democracy, and a fearless liberalism that isn't trying to squash itself into pat little moulds of right or left.
She seems impatient with easy assumptions
She seems impatient with easy assumptions
Aaj ka rangarang karyakram - filmi mahila kirdaar
A young journalist recently asked me some questions for an article about women characters in Bollywood films. I spent several hours going over lists of movies I've watched over the last decade, and thought it might be interesting to share whatever I came up with.
Interesting women characters who pushed the boundaries:
Geeta (Chitrangada Singh) in Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi.
She made choices,
Interesting women characters who pushed the boundaries:
Geeta (Chitrangada Singh) in Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi.
She made choices,
February 29, 2012
One of life's minor joys is finding someone to admire.
N...
One of life's minor joys is finding someone to admire.
Not many heroes are left to us, thanks to the mainstream press ignoring instances of quiet, sustained courage, and our own cynicism. I'm sometimes annoyed at 'positive' news that translates into interviews with students who have managed high scores, or interviews with successful businessmen or creative professionals. There's nothing wrong
Not many heroes are left to us, thanks to the mainstream press ignoring instances of quiet, sustained courage, and our own cynicism. I'm sometimes annoyed at 'positive' news that translates into interviews with students who have managed high scores, or interviews with successful businessmen or creative professionals. There's nothing wrong
February 21, 2012
She wanted money for a shroud for her dead husband. I gla...
She wanted money for a shroud for her dead husband. I glanced across the road. Indeed, somebody lay on the pavement. I didn't know if he was dead, but I didn't know if he wasn't dead. So I gave her some money. She moved on. I wondered how much a shroud costs. Then the traffic lights changed.
A few days later, she was back. Her husband lay dead, she said. I glanced left (yes, a man lay
A few days later, she was back. Her husband lay dead, she said. I glanced left (yes, a man lay
February 15, 2012
And then she dozed off
A couple of months ago, I undertook an arduous but very interesting train journey. It happened like this: I was booked on a night train between Lucknow and Delhi, but the vicious winter fog had been playing its dirty tricks. My train was delayed by four hours, then six, and then seven. Trains were getting cancelled every hour and I was panicking since I was committed to an event in Delhi, the
February 13, 2012
February 10, 2012
Two bits about censorship, words, and speech
"Words don't die of coldthey die from a lack of courage
Words often perish
because of humid weather
I once met
a word
that was like a bright red bird
in the swamp along the riverbank in my village
I brought it home
but as soon as we reached the wooden door-frame
it gave me
a strangely terrified look
and breathed its last
After that I started fearing words
If I ran into them I beat a hasty
Words often perish
because of humid weather
I once met
a word
that was like a bright red bird
in the swamp along the riverbank in my village
I brought it home
but as soon as we reached the wooden door-frame
it gave me
a strangely terrified look
and breathed its last
After that I started fearing words
If I ran into them I beat a hasty
Because the freedom struggle isn't quite over
I'm just copying (and endorsing) this from here. Read, share, protest. And remember, the freedom struggle is an ongoing one.
#flashreads for free speech/ Feb 14th:THE IDEA: To celebrate free speech and to protest book bans, censorship in the arts and curbs on free expressionWHY FEBRUARY 14TH? For two reasons. In 1989, the Ayatollah Khomeini issued a fatwa ordering the death of Salman Rushdie
#flashreads for free speech/ Feb 14th:THE IDEA: To celebrate free speech and to protest book bans, censorship in the arts and curbs on free expressionWHY FEBRUARY 14TH? For two reasons. In 1989, the Ayatollah Khomeini issued a fatwa ordering the death of Salman Rushdie
February 8, 2012
We are what we sing
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
