Oscars

I watched Oscars like millions did. Some random points that came to mind: I did clap when Slumdog Millionaire reaped in the awards, but the logical side of me couldn't concede that the movie was worth 8 of them. I would call it a nice enough movie, but just that. Not great, not wonderful - tad better than mediocre. Another example of how right place at right time far outweighs merit.

And then, of course some "Body" comes along and does an illogical thing, and basks in the narrow glow of publicity it brings. They gifted the children a concrete house and claimed they are working for the upliftment of conditions in slums. My head reels - how?! By moving the children who already made some money to a concrete house? How does that equate to "working for upliftment of slums"?

I loved the way Danny Boyle jumped up and down like Tigger in Winnie The Pooh when he won his Oscar. It was a helpful reminder that we all have a child in us, and sometimes takes hard work finding it. I watched with amusement as the cameras rolled on the best dressed women. I couldn't help comparing the style to the women in South Indian villages who tie a hard knot with their "ull-paavadais" just covering their breasts and dropping down below their knees, as they took a bath in semi-privacy (a term used for not bathing in a closed bathroom - say at the well, or in the courtyard in their homes)"Ull-paavadai" is the inner skirt worn underneath a saree.

Almost all the dazzling clothes were of the same bathing-in-courtyard style, and most of the colours were the same tried and tested variety. But, speaking with a sense of negative fashion IQ , I am not the person most suited to make judgements I am afraid.

I scoured the crowd and found only 2 women wearing a pair of glasses, but the same was not true of Men. Are men more comfortable with glasses or are women more self-conscious about the bespectacled image?!

Transported

Whenever I got into a bus, I have been mostly shielded by the friendly faces of drivers and conductors. I think it is a very honorable profession, especially in India, where one has to cater to hundreds while making sure that they are all transported safely. I always felt safe traveling alone in a bus, even at night. During my 11th and 12th grade, just standing behind the driver near the hot engine made us feel secure from all the eve-teasers, who were a tad too many in Trichy. Even though the drivers were mostly poker faced, I used to be greeted with a slight nod of the head, which was enough to make me feel good. Be it a very young flirtatious conductor or the stern brother/father types, they will be there to guard you once you enter their domain.

When I was in college, I never minded breaking my journey just to get home as soon as possible instead of a direct route bus. And so, it was all the way from Erode-> Mettur-> Dharmapuri -> Krishnagiri -> Hosur-> Bangalore. Many a conductor has stopped the bus, with a bang followed by “Old..down” , on seeing me running towards the bus, to the annoyance of the passengers, who had to disperse their formations at the steps of the bus, just to let me inside. There have been times when the conductor has made sure that a drunkard or a shabby guy does not come and sit near me. No questions were asked; just a pleading look from me did the job. Sometimes, the fatherly conductors might look very stern but when it comes to protecting you, even the looks were not needed.

What prompted my thinking about the aforementioned souls, you may ask. Last night, on my walk, engrossed in “Masakali”, I didn’t realize that I was almost tripping towards a bus stop, and that on seeing me walking at a brisk pace, the driver of a Cisco shuttle assumed I was rushing to catch it. Now, these shuttles run every five minutes or so. He could have just gone on his way as another one was right behind. But, no sir!! He cannot carry the guilt of leaving a passenger unattended. Now, I was in a dilemma with thoughts reeling in my mind,…Is he really waiting for me? Oh!! Shit, all the junta is looking at me . Do I run? If I run, the misunderstanding might become more pronounced. What do I do?.. With all the apprehensions in my mind, I was walking with an almost imperceptible jog and reached the shuttle when he opened the door, with everyone waiting for me to get in. Thoughts and more thoughts… What do I do? Do I just ignore and continue walking or do I follow in my dad’s footsteps, get in the bus, talk to the driver for a couple of minutes and let him know that I was just out for a walk. I chose to be the friendly pedestrian, looked straight at him, smiled with a wave of my hand. He laughed and with a nod, closed the doors and zoomed past. I continued with “Rehna Tu” ,smiling to myself, slightly embarrassed, transported to my teens…