Monday, March 23, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
RJ ing means talking without a thought
We all know RJs are paid to talk. But I wonder if it excludes thinking completely.
Here’s the context:
During New Year the Delhi Police held an anti-drunken driving drive. A week or so before 31st there was heavy advertising about the measures the police was taking and the consequences one would face if caught driving drunk. This YIELDED result, most people avoided drinking too much, designated a driver or did whatever they could. Indeed there were almost no accidents reported on the 31st night. Almost a miracle compared to previous years.
Here’s what two completely juvenile RJs with the combined IQ of an amoeba said:
RJ 1: Kitne admi thae?
RJ2: Puri Dilli thi sardar
RJ 1: Kitne Pakde Gaye?
RJ 2: Ek bhi nahi sarkar.
RJ1: Ha ha Dilli police ne mehnat toh bahut ki par ho gaya na flop show. Ek bhi nahi pakad payee….Bak Bak bak
Not only is this boring done-to –death spoofing of the Sholay dialogue puerile but it is a complete mis-reading and mis-interpretation of something very very good. It is not very often that government initiatives are praiseworthy. But when it is, as in this case, we have irresponsible and definitely incompetent media persons ruining it.
Something that can have serious repercussions as involving others lives cannot be brushed under the excuse of entertainment. If you are on air you have certain powers that carry responsibility and that responsibility isn’t just to entertain.
Here’s the context:
During New Year the Delhi Police held an anti-drunken driving drive. A week or so before 31st there was heavy advertising about the measures the police was taking and the consequences one would face if caught driving drunk. This YIELDED result, most people avoided drinking too much, designated a driver or did whatever they could. Indeed there were almost no accidents reported on the 31st night. Almost a miracle compared to previous years.
Here’s what two completely juvenile RJs with the combined IQ of an amoeba said:
RJ 1: Kitne admi thae?
RJ2: Puri Dilli thi sardar
RJ 1: Kitne Pakde Gaye?
RJ 2: Ek bhi nahi sarkar.
RJ1: Ha ha Dilli police ne mehnat toh bahut ki par ho gaya na flop show. Ek bhi nahi pakad payee….Bak Bak bak
Not only is this boring done-to –death spoofing of the Sholay dialogue puerile but it is a complete mis-reading and mis-interpretation of something very very good. It is not very often that government initiatives are praiseworthy. But when it is, as in this case, we have irresponsible and definitely incompetent media persons ruining it.
Something that can have serious repercussions as involving others lives cannot be brushed under the excuse of entertainment. If you are on air you have certain powers that carry responsibility and that responsibility isn’t just to entertain.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Friday, December 26, 2008
The End
There's this thing about endings. It's not whether they are happy or sad. It's how they make you feel.
Movie endings mostly make me feel glad. Glad that I can get up and stretch. Glad that i saw it on a dvd instead of a theatre. Glad that I saved money
Some leave me feeling bad. Bad that i saw it in a theatre instead of on a dvd. Bad that I wasted time.
Book endings are a totally different matter. When a good book is about to end, when there are fewer pages on the right and more on the left, I feel this hollowness inside. My pace slows down to a crawl. Once it took me 3 days to read 7 pages. Which means I really really enjoyed the book. There is this sense of loss. It's like parting. And knowing you'll never meet again.
Movie endings mostly make me feel glad. Glad that I can get up and stretch. Glad that i saw it on a dvd instead of a theatre. Glad that I saved money
Some leave me feeling bad. Bad that i saw it in a theatre instead of on a dvd. Bad that I wasted time.
Book endings are a totally different matter. When a good book is about to end, when there are fewer pages on the right and more on the left, I feel this hollowness inside. My pace slows down to a crawl. Once it took me 3 days to read 7 pages. Which means I really really enjoyed the book. There is this sense of loss. It's like parting. And knowing you'll never meet again.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
every breath I take
The strange brown cloud, climate change and my inheritance have resulted in this recent ailment.
I can't breathe.
I've had asthma attacks before. But taking a puff from my little inhaler seemed to make everything normal again. But not now. It's more than 2 Weeks but every breath I take is laboured. I can feel the strain within. Which brings me to think of all those breaths that I have wasted cribbing, bitching, fighting. There would be millions of them. If only I could have them back.
There isn't much I would do with them, I guess just some ordinary things. Like run up the stairs. Talk to those who have been under the impression that am ignoring them.
But most of all why I want all those breaths back is so that I can sing till sa of the higher octave without breaking a breath. When reciting the seven surs, I have begun to feel the strain at pa and by nee am gone. With all those breaths I would go sa re ga ma pa dha nee sa. Sigh
I can't breathe.
I've had asthma attacks before. But taking a puff from my little inhaler seemed to make everything normal again. But not now. It's more than 2 Weeks but every breath I take is laboured. I can feel the strain within. Which brings me to think of all those breaths that I have wasted cribbing, bitching, fighting. There would be millions of them. If only I could have them back.
There isn't much I would do with them, I guess just some ordinary things. Like run up the stairs. Talk to those who have been under the impression that am ignoring them.
But most of all why I want all those breaths back is so that I can sing till sa of the higher octave without breaking a breath. When reciting the seven surs, I have begun to feel the strain at pa and by nee am gone. With all those breaths I would go sa re ga ma pa dha nee sa. Sigh
Sunday, September 14, 2008
crap crap crap
That's how you feel when you are thirty something and 'believe' you are this super mature, cynic evolved literary person, but find out you are not.
In fact am the exact opposite. Super teeny-girly, crazy romantic, trashy novel reader.
Am reading Zoya Factor by Anuja Chauhan. Which is not a great literary or interesting read. But a M&B. where hero is from Cricket world (M S Dhoni, I believe) and heroine from ad world.
The two meet, fight, but are drawn to each other. They try to resist but fate brings them together again and again.
The point is not the novel. But the fact that after being comfortably married for 5 years hopefully in a steady relationship, 'romance' even in a novel causes my pulse to race. I put down a perfectly decent historical book and devour (yep devour) the MB.
Am I not supposed to be past it? Am I not supposed to have enough romance in my own life to live off dregs from a novel? Why does marriage replace romance with companionship?
In fact am the exact opposite. Super teeny-girly, crazy romantic, trashy novel reader.
Am reading Zoya Factor by Anuja Chauhan. Which is not a great literary or interesting read. But a M&B. where hero is from Cricket world (M S Dhoni, I believe) and heroine from ad world.
The two meet, fight, but are drawn to each other. They try to resist but fate brings them together again and again.
The point is not the novel. But the fact that after being comfortably married for 5 years hopefully in a steady relationship, 'romance' even in a novel causes my pulse to race. I put down a perfectly decent historical book and devour (yep devour) the MB.
Am I not supposed to be past it? Am I not supposed to have enough romance in my own life to live off dregs from a novel? Why does marriage replace romance with companionship?
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