Of Cabbages and Kings

March 26, 2009

Vinod Mehta interview

Filed under: Across the Universe — Chinmayi @ 5:38 pm

The media is in our faces all the time. Some of us know the stories of the Wall Street Journal and Rupert Murdoch and suchlike, many know about Google but aside from general raving and ranting there seems little that takes a good cold look at the Indian media – what is ought to do, what it does and what it is compelled to do. 

I missed this interview when it was actually published two years ago but luckily, Tehelka has pulled its excellent interview with Vinod Mehta out again. For someone who read Outlook in its heyday, and wondered at the strange sex-obsessed issues that came out from time to time, and wondering why it suddenly hushed up, and wondered what it is like to sell news in our glitz-obsessed country, it was a revelation.

March 24, 2009

The woman who fights back

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , , — Chinmayi @ 1:04 am

Politicians rarely move me. But a woman my age who marches for something she believes, endures what many might see as debilitating humiliation, refuses the jobs and money offered in compensation and runs instead for elected office so that she can push for the policy changes she believes in, is a woman that I admire from the bottom of my heart. 

I hope that Laxmi Orang wins – it might mean that one corner of the world will be a slightly better place.

March 18, 2009

The Blue Devils

Filed under: Personal — Chinmayi @ 10:15 pm

Once again, I have been on the verge of forgetting this little corner I like to scribble in. The last few months have been difficult – after whining for years about things that have been wrong with my life, I am trying to set them right…and it is taking some doing.

Do you live alone? Do you have days in which you hide under your blanket almost all day drinking cup after cup of Earl Grey until there are teacups over every clear surface in your room? Does your room look like a hurricane hit it a century ago and  no one has been inside ever since? These are just the small things…things that have been growing around me without my noticing them. It is strange how you can move past them so easily. One morning, you think that mushroom soup and a cosy blanket might be a better idea than a class on regional trade agreements, and the same evening you hear a song – a song that you have heard many, many times before but seen only this particular time that it smells of the rain. And suddenly the stale air of a little room suspended eleven storeys above a cold busy street in london blazes with the memory of an Indian thunderstorm, and you wake up. The teacups go back to the kitchen, the scattered papers sort themselves out and suddenly you remember where you were going before you went to sleep. 

I am back. I hope that I will stick around for bit. And if I don’t, I ask that you cross your fingers for me and hope that instead of diving back under a blanket…I am sorting out my room, my notes, my books and my life.

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