Are your jeans distressed by lions?

If you are the sort to shell out over a thousand dollars for a pair of jeans “designed by tigers”, then you have until July 21. Animal conservationists are marketing this bizarre idea to you. Even if you won’t buy the jeans you might feel like you are contributing to the welfare of the poor beasts.

Japanese brand Zoo Jeans includes wild beasts in their design process to create the perfect pair of ripped denim. In order to do this, sheets of material are added to old tires and giant rubber balls and tossed into the animals’ cages at Kamine Zoo in Hitachi, Japan. The lions and tigers then have the chance to chew, gnaw, and scrape at the fabric, taking “distressed denim” to the extreme.

Do they even realise how cruel this is? Lions and tigers are carnivores; they tear into pliable flesh. Bears are omnivores. Denim does not smell or feel like skin or plants, and rubber has a unique scent and feel. The animals probably assume they will be rewarded after they’ve got rid of the ‘excess baggage’.

The zoo and World Wildlife Fund are being horribly insensitive, and to think this is to benefit the animals. WWF and People For The Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) rant about ill-treatment; they file complaints against cosmetics and pharmaceutical companies for using animals as guinea pigs. They have a point, but they aren’t doing any better.

These organisations have a history of regressive ads that put human models behind cages, chain them, or make them wear edible clothes. At the same time they use loaded, even sexual, imagery. With Zoo Jeans too, ripped by animals has a certain ring. It defeats the purpose. They end up perpetuating an idea they claim to oppose – that of the ‘wild beast’ as fantasy.


© Farzana Versey

The Pontiff's Closet

What do you think about Pope Francis being chosen Best Dressed Man of 2013 by Esquire? When the magazine says, "Pope Francis's sartorial decisions have subtly signaled a new era (and for many, renewed hope) for the Catholic Church", it is jumping the gun. As religious head, he has certainly proven to be immensely likeable. He is discussed for his symbolic gestures, and they might not alter perceptions but do send out signals about a modernistic way of looking at social mores.

However, I believe that a best dressed tag does not quite reward these gestures, much less comprehend the nuances that might get lost and possibly lose track of what is being symbolised.

Mark-Evan Blackman, assistant professor of menswear design at FIT, has been quoted as saying:

"His mode of dressing really does reflect the mindset behind it. I remember when John Paul II was buried in those opulent bright red shoes. When the current pope was elected and chose not to wear the red shoes I thought that was very reflective of his approach to being a person functioning in a role."

Every position comes with a set role, and the only dissonance possible is in terms of interpretation. That does not alter the inherent nature of the role. For true believers, the red shoes were not an impediment to their faith, just as the discarding of them will not be.

Ann Pellegrini, Associate Professor of Performance Studies & Religious Studies at New York University, goes over-the-top:

"The humility of his garments offers a way to visibly display his theological and material concerns for the poor. This Holy Roman emperor really does have new clothes."

While it is true that the Pope has been "approachable" and "humble" — though such a station is supposed to be about humility and subservience to god, is it not? — a reality check is needed here.

I am not a Catholic, or a practising believer in any organised faith system, but being surrounded by several streams of theological thought it is obvious to me that devotees, especially those unfortunate enough to be poor and homeless, do look up to pomp and splendour. It is their means of escapism. And, dare I say, hope.

Unlike the well-heeled and the educated, they do not marvel at church spires and stained glass windows, nor do they appreciate the fine filigree work of the Islamic architecture in mosques, nor the fine motifs in Hindu, Jain, and Buddhist temples. But, the sheen of the altar, the sanctum, the idols does affect them. The brighter these are, the more dewy-eyed they get. This is not about materialism, but to experience what they do not possess. It is an egalitarian moment for them, for it renews their faith due to its obviousness. They seek no evidence of the power of an aura beyond what is evident, even as some of us might rationalise.

In fact, Esquire is doing just that. Yet, quite ironically, it is performing papal sort of duties by anointing the Pope with a grand gesture that contradicts the purported purpose of rewarding him: austerity.

© Farzana Versey

An Hour at the Oscars

“Did you watch the TV?” asked my newly-exported friend from Ludhiana

“Yes, yes. Tanu weds Manu promos all over.”

“No, no, stop being so desi. We are world players.”

“I cannot watch the World Cup matches because Shane Warne is predicting everything before.”

“Don’t take that Aussie man’s name. He pataoed Liz and took away our woman.”

“Our woman?”

“She was married to tycoon Arun, no?”

“What tycoon? Anyway, what am I supposed to watch?”

“The Oscars!”

“It was telecast at 4 a.m India time and then 7.30 a.m…”

“If you can wake up early for that thing…you know what you like doing…your stupid writing…then this is international. You are so desi.”

“Right, but why are you so excited? I know who got the awards, so my general knowledge won’t suffer. Have you watched any of the films? What were your favourites?”

“Films? Who cares! There was one fellow who was like stuttering, then this woman who was doing some ballet-shallet, then some fighter, and even Facebook fellow was there. Hai, that was nice because all my relatives are on it, so we are all family.”

“If you have not watched any of the films, then what are you so enthusiastic about?”

“It is the whole atmosphere. The red carpet, the gowns, my, such lovely ones.”

“I saw this event on an entertainment channel and they went on and on about those stupid maxis, sorry gowns.”

“What is stupid, hain? Even Aishwariya Rai wore one and Mallika Sherawat wore one.”

“Oh, so they wore one each, that’s interesting. Did A. R. Rahman wear one too?”

“Don’t be mean. Bechara did not win this time, serves him right for leaving poor slumdogs, but he is so modest, he just kept smiling like a buddha.”

“You mean like the Buddha.”

“Oh, whatever. His wife they say was wearing Indo-Western fusion and carried a designer clutch.”

“I saw her wearing some thick dupatta. The western part may have been hidden.”

“What did you think of Ash and Mallika?”

“I did not notice what they wore. I was concentrating on their accents. Mallika spoke as though she was at a baseball match rooting for Rahman and Aishwariya said something about how nice it was to be ‘celebrating cinema like we do back home’. Very funny.”

“Chalo, this is global talk. You really must understand. I think Halle Berry’s nude was lovely.”

“I wish that was how she’d have been. She wore some ruffled stuff.”

“Ah, tell me more. I like to hear desi opinion on all this.”

“Sure. Even our media discusses it as though they were there and they are them, the same language, the same encomiums, the same kind of dissing. Heck, if the foreign press says it looked like table cloth, ours' modified it to table napkins. Original. Here, I have patience only for a couple of them. Penelope Cruz was in something shiny and looked a bit plump. And Cate Blanchett wore an atrocious dress with a yoke that looked like an upturned baby’s bib. Most were in red and most gowns looked either like some armour or like slips that needed something to be worn over them.”

“Wait baba, I must correct you. They have to show cleavage and their bodies. It is open society and even in India everyone is showing off.”

“True. I have no problem with revealing clothes, but they looked not quite complete.”

“This is high fashion, the best designers.”

“Is it about cinema or fashion? Why do these super actors have to announce which designer’s clothes they are wearing? If they have paid for them, then it is theirs.”

“Labels, darrrling, labels. You don’t understand.”

“I have seen some of the nighties on Linking Road and a few long kameezes at Crawford Market that don’t look much different.”

“This is desi mentality. It is the cut, the lines.”

“And the bulges. But why are we discussing this?”

“Okay, tell me about the speeches.”

“Speeches? Ooh-aah, I dunnowhattosaythisisjustsoaahsomepinchme…aah,sniff,owkhay, Imustthankgodthemazingteamthatmadeitpossible…ooh, Istillcan’tbelieveit…blah.”

“I am ashamed of you,” said my NRI friend. “As an Indian you should understand emotions.”

“Haan, butwhatemotionsarethereifyousoundlikeyouaresquirtingforthefirsttime?

“Whatttt arrr you saying?”

“Just being global.”

A model's death

Is a model’s suicide any different from other suicides? Until Page 3 became a standard feature, one recognised models only by their faces and bodies; many remained fairly unknown unless they were interviewed in women’s magazines.

There is a romanticisation of the stress levels. Today’s papers reported the suicide of model Viveka Babajee. She hanged herself from a ceiling fan; the reason was depression, partly due to a failed relationship. She came to India from Mauritius and was immediately engulfed in the world of glamour. Together with her professional skills, she, like several others, became an asset at society parties.

The film Fashion, despite its stereotypes, has depicted the life of the industry rather well. The clamour to be a part of it is huge. There was the case of Gitanjali who was found in the streets of Delhi, drugged, disheveled and in urgent need of medical and mental care. The media took to her – it was a great story. Madhur Bhandarkar used bits of her life in the film, but what is most striking is the hierarchy. It exists in every profession, but especially in one where vanity is the selling point.

They all seem to have an ‘attitude’. Attitude is arrogance teamed with a readiness to do anything. It is a generalisation, but happens to be the unfortunate truth. The stepping stones are designers, photographers, agents and business houses. The latter stay behind the scenes but are probably the most exploitative.

There is the sequence in the movie where some new girls are asked to attend a party because it helps grab eyeballs. This is what we see on Page 3, where unknown faces become names. It isn’t that they lack merit in their field. Someone has to model those products. They get instant fame and very few fall apart. Doing drugs is not considered a major problem.

Viveka was smart enough to realise she could not model forever, so she became an event manager and in fact had returned to Mauritius. Why did she come back to Mumbai? Because, in all likelihood, the country where she was from has no such culture of celebrity. It does not splash pictures only because you are dressed in certain clothes or you are invited to a party. The real high is fame on a pair of legs.

I found it curious that someone she met a week ago said she looked composed and not depressed. That is what they are paid for. Viveka must have had other problems and probably hid them from the world because the same celebrity that brings you in the forefront for baring forces you to not expose yourself.

She chose to die.

Moderns, Models and Martyrs

The Indian Media Discovers a New Pakistan
Moderns, Models and Martyrs
by Farzana Versey
Counterpunch, November 13-15, 2009

(A slightly abridged version has appeared in The News International, November 14)

If you believed the Indian media, then not only do Pakistani women possess cleavages and midriffs but their displaying these body parts is considered a fight against militancy.

“Bare shoulders, backless gowns and pouting models are wowing Pakistan’s glitterati as Karachi Fashion Week shows the world a different side of the Taliban-troubled nation,” said one report. Are there no other paradigms for us to understand modern Pakistan? Do we even want to?

There is talk about Islamic clothes as opposed to what was witnessed on the catwalk. This is an artificial comparison. Social dress codes vary for regular wear even in the couture capitals of the world like Paris, Milan and New York.

However, the Indian media saturated with tribal chiefs found an opportunity to perform a virtual bereavement ritual as fashionistas supposedly braved gunfire to strut on the ramp.

It is a patronising attitude quite forgetting that we have to deal with not only the rightwing moral police but also educational institutions that lay down rules. In Kolkata, for example, a college wanted its students to only wear sarees and not salwaar-kameezes; the elite St. Xavier’s College in Mumbai issued a diktat against short dresses.

We want to look at modern Pakistan as the West does – a materialistic opposition to fanaticism. None of these people are modern in the sense of being ideologically driven. We give prime time and front page space to wardrobe malfunction and there are psychological discussions on stress levels. It perhaps adds a similar dimension when we see our neighbour defying external stress.

A modern Pakistan is both a relief and a threat to India. It is a relief because there are mutual opportunities and mutual backscratching possibilities for fake blonde bluster to cover up real blonde moments. It is a threat because we need those bearded guys and burqa-clad women to make us feel good about our democracy. For those who constitute the upper layer of any society, democracy is the ability to walk the ramp – for charity, for theatrics, for flaunting money, for flaunting regenerated bodies, for flaunting redeemed self-esteem, for flaunting trophy hubbies. To belong to the jet set you need to walk the ramp.

Can such cocoons rebel against society? Take this headline: “Fashion takes a bow near Taliban hub in Pakistan”. Do we know what a hub is? And how close is Karachi to the hub? The show taking place under heavy security does not as a matter of course catapult it to the level of a valid protest. “And this is a way to tell the people who want our lives to stop that 'No, we won't let you.'” was one such voice that immediately echoed what the Indian media is happy about portraying.

A “mix of eastern and western inspirations” immediately makes us think of a little bit of Chanel infused with a touch of Sindh and the Louis Vuitton with Lahore. This is the muaah-muaah comfort level of the wannabes whose empathies come purely from performing a striptease. It is a battle of and for the botox and its accruing financial benefits. India has a huge market, but Pakistan’s elite can flash their Calvin Kleins just as well.

I can imagine our media chortling at the words of one expat Pakistani designer who said, “My muse is that quintessential modern woman who’s self-aware and knows what she wants. She’s ambitious and driven but isn’t afraid to flaunt her softer side in fear of contradicting that image. In fact, she embraces it.” Oh no, the power woman has those threads sewn into her mannequin frame and control over body means just not being able to exhale.

Why do these people assume that a woman in the tribal areas, if heard, might be unaware about what she wants? Is it not possible that her ambition is to not flaunt certain assets? The neo ‘cons’ transpose the victim of fanaticism against a peek preview of the houri from heaven and end up portraying extremism in two limited shades.

The positions are in place. Men have to take on the war against terror and women must do the phoney mommy of moderation act. Liberalism is the new poster girl and caters to market demands. No wonder it has degenerated to the level of the trivial.

Look beyond this current event and you will find that according to the Indian media the great Pakistani moderns are not the true dissenting voices, but the flavours of the season. Modern is Imran Khan coming out of a socialite’s pool in Mumbai like Ursula Andress, actress Meera covering half her face with shades and the other half with braggadocio, politicians and diplomats wearing suits, commentators talking in clipped accents punctuated with home-grown patois, activist cats crying over the spilt milk of peaceful resolutions to the conflict. And if someone can say “those Talibs” followed by a few choice cuss words, then they begin to epitomise nothing less than a quick-fix renaissance.

This is a composite list. If you notice, the arrivistes overtake the artistes. People who do street theatre, use art and dance as statement, who question the status quo are simply bypassed or seen as ranting mavens unless they are threatened. Then, they can take that great leap towards modernism. Intellectual shahadat – martyrdom – has good currency.

Interestingly, television and newspapers in India have buttressed the feudal class as spokespersons of such modernism. The idea is that a haveli may well be a hotbed of intrigue against the system when more often it is only a haven for hors d’oeuvres. On the rare occasion when a person of clear merit is propped up, then it is as per Western parameters. Abdul Sattar Edhi is not a mere do-gooder anymore but the ‘Mother Teresa of Pakistan’, and Mother T was a celebrity with an imported stamp.

It is this construct that makes us narrow-mindedly listen to our neighbour talk the robot walk. No wonder that we count among the great moderns former President Pervez Musharraf. The reason is simple: he has a dog.

The Aging of Reason

Why does he document himself aging? Every five years he makes a mould of his face, fills it with 10 pints of blood. The sculptures are then kept in a Perspex box filled with silica and chilled to minus 18 degrees Celsius to prevent them from turning to liquid. Precious. An ode to life frozen and afraid of flowing like the warmth of life-giving blood.

British artist Marc Quinn says, “I think I’m more obsessed with life than death. Death’s inevitable, and slightly boring.”

This is why he makes it interesting by celebrating “the powers of the human body”. The last one was acquired by the National Portrait Gallery in London for $500,000. His earliest work is worth millions of pounds. This is an interesting aspect of art as not a statement but evolution of the human being.

Quinn is quite contemporaneous in his oeuvre. Take a couple of examples...

Alison Lapper Pregnant – a marble sculpture of a woman born without arms:

Sphinx – painted-bronze sculptures of Kate Moss in yoga positions:

In the latter, though inspired by the earlier one, he used the model to “explore the opposite: the body that everyone thinks is absolutely perfect”.

Here, Quinn has fallen for a faddist idea. Just as he believes that Moss as model and person have different lives, he ought to understand that the fashion industry’s idea of perfection is not the real world’s perception. In fact, perfection even as a means to manipulate a counter-perfection is antithetical to art, for it merely uses ready material as illustration.

The woman born without arms, on the other hand, has not been culturised. She is a part of the natural process of being. He might believe he has through Moss created an abstraction but he did use Moss.

Coming up next year he has a new series of sculptures of “people who’ve transformed themselves with plastic surgery”.

Again, a contemporary statement. Will he use real role models? Will it show evolution or disintegration? Is there a likelihood of it being a parody of such surgical intervention or will it be an observation of the same ‘growth’ of the aging process he uses his blood heads for?

I don’t find his works disturbing, a term he dislikes. “I think you have to make work that makes you feel things and people don’t like feeling things.”

It is more than feeling things. It is unfeeling them. There is detachment in taking the real, transforming it and pushing it into the extreme version of one kind of authenticity.

He may freeze some of his blood but will he allow it to congeal within him?

Swami Ramdev, Modi and a Love Child

Islands

It isn’t unusual. In fact, it is along expected lines. Swami Ramdev has bought a Scottish isle for about £2 million (Rs 16 crore) to set up a wellness retreat. What is surprising is this:

The conch-shaped Little Cumbrae island, spread over 1.25 sq km and home to a 13th century castle, was put on the block by its previous owner due to the global financial crisis.

Obviously, spiritualism has suffered from no recession. People are still spending money “for scientific research and treatment in yoga, spiritualism and ayurveda”. Why is this jim-jam being garbed as research? Yoga therapies, ayurveda are already there in ancient texts. And what scientific research can be conducted in spiritualism? A personal quest is not dependent on analysis or measured.

The Swami’s explanation is this:

“The base is not about property as much as it is about spreading Indian values. My aim is to turn this island into a peace haven.”

What is the need to spread Indian values oversees when Indians themselves are aping the West? What exactly are these values? Contorting the body, eating stuff procured from forests and swallowing long strings to bring out mucus? What is so un-peaceful about the island that it will transform into a peace haven?

It will only increase tourism. Travellers will throng to the place, after having satiated themselves with haggis, shortbread, tartan scarves and kilts and want to retire for some S&M – spiritualism and massage. These places are no different from detox spas and, while the regular parlours are pretty upfront, here it probably makes people just feel better for no reason other than partaking of an ‘inner journey’.

If Swami Ramdev is so concerned about peace, he could have chosen an Indian island like the Andamans or Lakshadweep.

And someone please make it clear that this Swami has not revived yoga. There are several institutes that have been quietly doing their work and people practising it. When your mind is searching with a resolve in the stillness, you are on a higher plane without the arrogance of making tall claims about it.

Villages

If Narendra Modi says there are no villages in Gujarat, you just believe it. His reason to sneak out of it is the plan to set up gram nyayalayas (village courts) for quick dispensation of justice.

A report says CM of Delhi Sheila Dikshit too said there were no villages in her jurisdiction and the newspaper explains it as a possibility because:

the once upon a time villages in Delhi have been consumed by rapid urbanisation given the need of a burgeoning population.

I do not understand. We have had panchayats for years and these village courts decided by the union government is only one more move at interference.

To give Modi his due here, he has agreed to have “mobile courts…at the grassroot level”. Makes sense. Now if only he does not have chaps like Vanzara and company getting all mobile. Okay, could not resist that one. I prefer Modi’s idea in principle.

Huh?

Rather sick headline in TOI:

Masaba Gupta, India’s first celebrity love child, has had to sprint many races before finding a voice.

Masaba with Neena

She is the offspring of West Indian Vivian Richard and actress Neena Gupta and has made her debut at the recent fashion week. She spoke about being a product of black and white, not quite fathoming what ‘white’ means. I am sure she must have faced questions and got weird looks. Many people do for various reasons.

Had she not had famous parents would anyone make this seem so legitimate? What is there to shout about India’s first celebrity love child? Is this an achievement? Two people shared some moments of passion and the woman chose to have the baby. Who took the responsibility, how the parenting was done is between the parents.

Let the media not prop this up.

Anand Jon and the Immigrant Dream

Designer Anand Jon has been sentenced to 59 years in prison by a California court for sex crimes. He kept a conquest diary. He recorded in detail what he had done and to whom. The girls were said to be as young as 14; his abusive streak started in 2001. This picture was taken during the New York Fashion Week in 2004.


So, what are we on to?

His sister, Sanjana, has revealed there was mistrial on 15 counts. She has also said that one of the jurors attempted to take her out and she underwent a polygraph test for this allegation and passed it. The judge admitted juror misconduct but denied a mistrial.

I am also not terribly enthralled by news reports that emphasise how Jon was one of Newsweek magazine’s people to look out for. That is the real problem. Some have indicated racism. These are not issues that one can make quick conclusions about, especially when we see cases of rapists managing to keep pre-pubescent children underground for years.

The fashion and entertainment industries (remember Chaplin’s love for nubile girls?) are notorious for such abusive behaviour. However, there is a time span until which this can go on and all are most certainly not equal before the eyes of the very high society they sponge on and are sucked into.

In 2007 when the designer’s case came into public glare, I had written a column in the Asian Age about the immigrant and sudden fame. I shall reproduce part of it here:

Jon might well have been just another fresh off the boat immigrant. He did the unthinkable. He did not wallow in diaspora depression. Instead, he did what a small-town man in India does when he gets to the big city – lets it all hang out until someone notices.

He is not being merely held culpable for a crime – rape and lewd behaviour for which the courts have charged him – but for a sin in the rehashed morality that is overtaking America. Being surrounded by nubile girls and flashing what they now call his feeble credentials is not unusual. Paris Hilton, his client and friend, is certainly no babe-in-the-woods. Why did the accusations suddenly start rushing out in spurts?

Yes, he was given the celebrity treatment in India. The boy from Kerala had made it. It wasn’t Kerala, though, that laid out the red carpet; it was the metro matrons. Today, they pretend they did not know anything about him.

Were all those screeching “Sanjaya” fans merely interested in his singing abilities on American Idol? Just suppose he had won and gone around town with some of these teenagers, wasn’t there a likelihood of someone accusing him? And what about the American gay critic who went completely berserk in his fascination for the contestant, saying that he had a thing for pretty boys with big mouths? Why was the United States silent over this sexual innuendo directed at a youngster?

Sanjaya was their trump card until a trigger-happy South Korean took away their prime-time toy-boy. Papa Malakar could drop those exiled tears any minute – trained classical singer trying to make it in phoren land and getting into roots mode.

People love to watch angst-ridden sagas. Please note that all our diaspora writers and film-makers play the Western stereotype making full use of their origins. Most expats formulate their political opinions sitting in regional hovels. Is it any wonder that most of them have an immensely narrow vision?

Does anyone bother to question them about the immigrants who don’t quite make it? Does anyone ask them to prove their loyalty to the country of their birth even as they give their best to another land?

Anand Jon, besides a few karma-print clothes, did not try hard enough to market his desi-ness. He shamelessly aped the Sunset Boulevard vaudeville.

- - -

In a related news item, sometime actress, Suchitra Krishnamoorthi, who did not quite make it has now revealed that she experienced the casting couch while struggling to get a break in Bollywood. She has recently recollected that “many years ago, I had gone to meet a very successful producer about a film role at a plush suburban hotel. They were looking for a new face to launch.” A report states that after a discussion about academics, family and work experience, the producer asked her to call her father to tell him that she was spending the night with him at the hotel and that he should pick her up in the morning.

Bollywood does have a casting couch. It is known. Some producers are blatant about it. But would a producer tell a wannabe to call up her father and tell him she would be spending the night with a strange man to get a job knowing that no parent would allow it and he would get into trouble?

She is the former wife of filmmaker Shekhar Kapur and had used his website to blast him in a poem not too long ago. The world is far too complex and answers too pat if that’s how we like them.

Beauty and the Beast of Consumerism

She exposed pink underwear worn under a short black leather kimono. Japan’s finalist for the Miss Universe, Emiri Miyasaka, caused a bit of a storm in the preliminaries. Is the reaction prudish? I think not.

I am often amused by how these beauty pageant winners are termed ambassadors of nations. We send a young woman from our country after she has won the title at home, she is trained and trimmed and pruned to fit into what is considered international requirements. Requirements for what?

We fall for this standardised idea of beauty, and these days of humaneness and larger concern for social development as well. Do we realise that for many it means altering their identity besides their bodies? What sort of independence is this that the woman becomes a puppet who has to learn to walk and talk in a particular manner? Where is the individuality? And on what grounds do they represent national culture?

The kimono has specific connotations to convey myriad values and nuances. The lady is made to wear a leather one – fine, and I can hear some people call this a feminist statement of power, as though horse or cow hide can make anyone powerful. It would make better sense if she just wore some leather thingie – what is this about pink panties showing through? It isn’t sexy. It does not convey beauty, feminity, class. It is indeed crass and appears more like an ‘oops, I forgot to button up’ moment.

There are bikini rounds where she can wear whatever she wants. There is no need to combine it with a kimono. Geishas wear kimonos and we know what their job is, but there is such subtlety and class in their demeanour.

This brings me to the Indian national dresses that get flaunted at such pageants. The traditional ghagra-choli (long skirt and blouse) have enough scope to show skin but how far can you go? The saree is considered one of the most sensual garments, but some film actresses and models tart it up wearing it so low that you fear it might fall; the graceful pallu (the loose end) instead of resting on the shoulder in a flowing manner is scrunched up like a snake so that the full impact of the washboard gym-toned – if not lipo-sucked – midriff hits you in the face. The cleavage is not a hint of promise, but thrusting of a Size A cup to tell the world you can fit into anything on a ramp where women are merely human mannequins and must draw attention to the clothes and not their bodies. Ironically, they have to abuse their bodies to reach this state of robotic perfection.

These are not ambassadors of our countries but just young women who are out to make it outside. Home is their last refuge. Many have to return and then they need to alter their identities and bodies again. Pump up the breasts, add some bulk to the hips, change your walk, change your talk. They want to be in the movies and Bollywood likes them to look like they can fill up the screen and pre-pubescent fantasies of mama’s boys.

Meanwhile, pageants have a whole lot of money riding on them and the women have to be what cosmetic companies and designers expect.

It is okay as long as it is a person’s choice and they represent themselves. I see no reason for them to be hailed as symbols of their countries.

Countdown to the One Millionth Word?

This is among the worst instances of dumbing down. They are catering to everyone’s fantasy of concern - something from fashion, pop culture, the greens, music, sports; they are also trying to balance cultures and countries.

Tomorrow, June 10th, 2009 at 10:22 am (Stratford-on Avon Time) The Global Language Monitor in Austin, Texas will announce the winning word. I find the location rather quaint. Maybe these Texans just wanna go on vacation. Are you not all excited to know whether Indian women’s panties, “cuddies”, will get the green signal or will it be the real green McCoy, locally- produced “locavores” that are part of “slow food” which isn’t fast?

Now, there is something for fast moms called “octomom” that is, believe it or not, “the media phenomenon of the mother of the octuplets”. Huh? Do the sperms like consult newspapers and TV channels about how to hit different ova at the same time so that you get a few nice bundles of eight?

You can “de-friend” someone from your social network and if you send them steamy messages via email you will be “sexting” them. You may send steam and sauna in other ways, but there is no word for it.

The US President's popularity would be “Obamamania”, which is kind of lame, but what is surprising is “Mobama” – relating to the fashion-sense of the US First Lady. I thought it would be green, given her penchant for dresses and gowns that look like they are made from feathers or the colour of flora and fauna.

After the success of the film Slumdog Millionaire, two words from India figure. “Slumdog” would qualify as slang although it goes under the ‘politically incorrect’ category and “refers disparagingly to someone living in the slums”. If it is disparaging, then why is it qualifying at all? And “Jai ho” is a phrase taken from a song.

The issue is not with words from varied cultures; English language speakers and writers do employ Latin, French, Spanish phrases, and ancient English is nothing quite like we know it now.

My quarrel is with the limited idea of “the coming of age of English as the first, truly global language”. One does not need to blow trumpets to announce such an event. Languages evolve and those speaking it in different countries add bits and pieces of the local dialect. No one goes to check whether such a word has been anointed by the English dictionary or this gimmick.

But these Language Monitor people are serious:

“Due to the global extent of the English language, the millionth word is as likely to appear from India, China, or East Los Angeles as it is to emerge from Stratford-Upon-Avon, Shakespeare’s home town.”

This isn’t expanding the horizons but clasping them in a clinch to draw attention to their ethnicity. How does it add to a language?

The Chosen Word will depend on citations, usage, appearances in the media, the Net, blogs and networking sites. This is just to confirm the celebrity status of the words, irrespective of whether they make sense or not.

Poland’s contribution is about predatory lending practices, bankers behaving like gangsters. Every stud imagines he is a “bangster”. I don’t even want to think about some guy in a suit and tie ripping me off my money…even if he is one in a million.

We’d be poles apart.

Page 3 Media Vultures

No one is interested in asking questions. There is a bit of legalese thrown in, but the attention is on what the woman arrested was wearing, including details of her “downplayed” jewellery and makeup, not forgetting “lower lids rimmed with kohl and white liner on the inner side” and “firmly in place was the emblem of her social status – oversized bumblebee glasses.”

These shades happen to be the trend and even college students wear them, although more likely unbranded ones.

In a disgusting display of depravity in writing; a report said:

Before her arrest –

Whatever may be the emotional upheaval and humiliation churning inside, her appearance showed no signs of it.

After her arrest –

The Sheetal that walked out of court seemed eerily exposed.

The case in short is this: Sheetal Bhagat, wife of industrialist Atulya Mafatlal, is caught with jewellery and accessories worth a little over Rs. 50 lakh. She is an NRI and travels often, so they are suspecting there must be some smuggling racket.

Her husband alludes that the police were tipped off; there is a family feud going on and the matter is money.

High society is in a tizzy. Some must be gloating; others are worried.

Let us get to the nitty-gritty. If this is the reason and the jewellery were not gold biscuits or loose diamonds, they were ornaments. In our country carrying back anything above Rs. 20,000 makes it liable to customs duty. She should have been asked to pay up the duty. Besides, any piece of jewellery, even a small diamond ring, costs that much and is today worn by many Indians as a matter of course. What about the camera, cellphone, laptop we carry? Is there any way to ensure they are old and not bought for sale?

And let me tell you, not that you unaware of it, there are customs officers who are informed about the bigwigs travelling and they flag those people off irrespective of what they are carrying. The bigwigs arrange for their minions to be at the airport to arrange just such a deal. Envelopes are delivered later.

The person in question may also have done similar things in the past. This time something not connected with official duty has happened. I know it is a case that will be tried, but she did not get bail. I find it absolutely amazing.

You might want to ask: does this not happen to hundreds of people who are not famous? Absolutely. It does. For no reason at all. It should not, and no one will accuse me of not taking this up in my writings. But it does not mean we do not expect the law to be followed and start patting honest officers because, even if that were the case, it was a fluke. Trust me. You can be asked for “perfumes for the wife, chocolates for the kids, and booze for myself only”.

What does this Page 3 journalism that has jumped to Page 1 do besides the piffle I quoted above? It interviews her husband and asks him about the rumours of his marriage being in trouble. How really degrading is this.

At some point he is queried about her love for jewellery and the possibility of that getting her into trouble! The guy does mention that she likes her ornaments, to which the so-called sympathetic society journo shoots back, “In that case, will there be a bauble awaiting her as a welcome gift when she steps out of jail?”

I am surprised she was not given a really nasty retort. Be as critical as you want, but examine it as a case.

The lady here – who incidentally I think has appalling taste because you may wear the best designer labels but if you heap it on it looks like a store not a body – was wooed by the same pink champagne crowd that went ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ because that is what they are toilet trained to do.

And for those flashy supposedly frank commentators to say “I have nothing to say” is precious piffle. They are the ones who feed on these very high jinks for their comments; this is what they always aspired to be and managed.

No comments? Wait for a while. You will hear them after others have spoken and they will peck on those carrion words later depending on how the case swings. Or when they are invited to a bigger, maybe electronic, forum where they can flash their bangles, earrings, chokers, all in antique finish.

Vultures.

The way we exploit...

Is this giving a whole new meaning to recession? A 60-year-old man was told nine years ago to have sex with his daughter to improve his business prospects. She was then 12. The advice was given by a tantric. This vile character began raping the man’s younger daughter a few months ago.

Is this about superstition? I think there is more to it. A man who runs a business may be greedy but not stupid. Did his business improve? If his daughter was unlucky for him, then would not having intimate relations with her further defile him, as per the logic of superstition?

It is time we stopped panning these crimes as blind belief. They are all about power. He was merely managing to release his frustrations. The tantric was using the time-tested device of sexual release to make him less edgy.

These guys flourish in our society because we need something beyond religion. To reach god we need to pray. It does not satiate our other longings, our senses. These charlatans come along and sell their stupid ideas.

Do not blame blind belief. We blindly believe in brands, in celebrities, in people we love. It is not in the same league. This is a crime being committed on gullible people or those with an agenda. They should be treated on par with other criminals.

I am glad the daughters picked up courage and reported the matter. Besides the most stringent punishment that is legally possible, this man’s business should be handed over to them rightaway.

And I do not see why the police allows these men to cover their faces. They need to be exposed. Where is the intrepid media during such cases?

- - -

Now it’s a fashion show…

Then a meeting with Sonia Gandhi where the Slumdog stars said they were willing to campaign for the Congress:

“Now that people know us, they will listen to us,” they said about their campaign plan.

They then mentioned that they needed a house to live in.

Smart or sick?

Monroe in the wind

A model displays a creation of Dolce & Gabbana’s Fall/Winter 2009-2010 ready-to-wear collection during the women’s fashion week in Milan.



Is this iconic or ironic? The dress lacks basic good sense, don’t even think about classiness.

I know we have a T-shirt industry with images of famous people. Che Guevara is, of course, the favourite of all who think they are rebels. Why don’t Indians have Bhagat Singh and Subhash Chandra Bose stamped on their tees? Even the saffron parties will not have Veer Savarkar and Golwalkar.

Digression over. The Marilyn Monroe dress is so frumpy and what is it trying to convey? A smiling woman who died young is being strutted on a ramp by a model who looks like she needs a laxative. Talking of which, and pardon the indelicacy of the imagery, do you recall that scene where Monroe’s dress balloons out in the wind in The Seven Year Itch?



Hmm…a person wearing this dress could, in one of those au naturalle moments, give that quite a different dimension. With Marilyn’s face at the receiving end.

Style kosher of the natty neta

Maverick: Style kosher of the natty neta

By Farzana Versey

Covert, December 1-15

Elections are not about braving the cold, heat, dust, old age, ennui to cast your vote. They are about politician-watching.

The young must give way to the old, we wail. We have no new names to pull out. All are the babalog of big men, and the occasional woman. Our attitude towards the young turks, a term that ought to make us smile at the irony when applied to these novices, is superficial. Look at them, we say, they at least look presentable in international conferences.

The flapping, translucent dhoti has given us many a moment of suspense, unless it swayed round the legs of a well-spoken ‘old boy’ from a touted alma mater who knew how to work his way with expensive toys that squeak and squawk.

Today’s politicians are chic, well-to-do, educated, or at least have some pretence to it, and seem to prefer Bordeaux to battle.

This is not a sudden development. We have had stylish people in public office, and even during the Independence Movement. Then came a period of couture drought. Netas decided that if they had to hide so much loot they had better not look as though they were hiding it. So they dressed down as kisans, chaprasis, the kind of people they pack into trucks. Some did tog themselves up as local goons, but that is because they were local goons.

When did the change take place? And why? Is it visible to the naked eye? Who benefits most from it?

This so-called style has been the unique contribution of those who can stay in power irrespective of who is in power. They represent the ‘cashy’ face of society that the respectable business communities feel safe about.

“Fund-raisers” are not renowned for political merit and their purpose is to play goodwill ambassadors. However, the moment the money dries up, their power too dwindles. Fortunately, the concept of allegiance is as dry as their martinis.

Besides, the new breed of ‘public servants’ are bosses in their personal business ventures, or successful professionals. It can be safely assumed that being well-heeled such a person could be trusted with party funds. However, the game is quite different. Rich they may be, but 60 per cent of the amount that is collected for party or election purposes goes in the dear MP’s pocket.

Of course, they won’t give you that impression. Élan is something they can project with ease since they know the business of surviving in pimp land. Touch feet, open doors, be part of the exclusive club where sycophancy pays, and no one complains.

The paraphernalia is important. Earlier going around in an Ambassador car was looked on as a necessity. Now, your humble leader will get into a BMW, even talk knowledgeably about its merits, and flaunt his assets – nifty suit, pricey haircut, and things that constitute the good life. Fundamentalist leaders too talk about their love for cigars and champagne. Golf is their sport, and vacationing abroad a regular occurrence.

Is hypocrisy finally dead? That is one way of looking at it. But why do they suddenly change track when it is election time? In the rarefied circles that they move in they continue to talk about globalisation and the liberal economy, yet they do know that life does not begin and end at Malabar Hill and Golf Links. There are Malegaon and Karol Bagh to be dealt with as well. So, they become ‘accessible’. Huge hoardings and full-page ads appear where they flaunt their own sincerity. If they are lucky, then a bunch of their friends will laud their efforts, not only regarding stray dogs that made life miserable when they went for their evening constitutional, but also how the sincere gentleman provided clean drinking water to the residents of Chinchpokli or Muzzafarpur. They have probably never heard of these places; it just sounds good.

I don’t know whether it conveys arrogance or plain ignorance. For those of us who can afford nonchalance, it surely makes life seem beautiful if you don’t have to hear a politician talk and let him flaunt his baubles instead. As for the unwashed millions, even the hick-town politician does not care about them. He is too busy getting his dhoti starched.

Designer exploiters

Getting disgusted won’t get me anywhere, but once again something at a fashion show has put me off. Look, why don’t these people stick to their sticks walking the ramp and stop messing around with social issues? The last time I got upset was when they had exploited toilet cleaners; now they are using blind women.

One of them embossed Braille on the front of one garment and the English alphabets at the back. She said, “It is the blind that feel and ‘see’. The ones that have vision are really blind. The blind don’t want compassion, they want respect.”

Is this respect? The bloody gall of designing clothes with Braille. Do they think that the visually impaired are stupid? Do they imagine that they are going to run their hands over their clothes to read about fabric and silhouette and such other details…or is it detailing? And as this picture shows, the blind women are not even wearing the so-called designer clothes; they were brought in as gimmicks.

If you want to help the blind then, even though it sounds insensitive, make your models walk blindfolded. Watch them trip (and please do not try a wardrobe malfunction trick to capitalise on boobless boobs) and then play some violin music to convey tragedy, darken the auditorium and flash the social message - the blind cannot see, but ‘see’.

Damn. They might even take this suggestion seriously.

Another cuckoo case this ‘season’ dealt with the issue of fascism. And how did he convey it? By using Nazi skinheads! As though we don’t have home-grown fascists. Here, too, we cannot get rid of our foreign obsession.

Some are now trying the no-makeup look with models dressed in sack cloth walking barefoot. Honey, if you are so desperate at least make sure the ‘super model’ has nice feet. Stop kidding around. Fashion is about clothes, beauty, upfront physical appeal. Leave the issues for another time.

- - -

This is an extract from an earlier post…Fashion, my foot:

We need to shut shop. This fashion parody has been going on for too long and makes no sense. I believe there was one show where all the male models were dressed as Sikhs because it was a sporting line and Sikhs are sporty! What next, a cocktail line should have Malayalis because they drink like crazy, and a lounge line ought to have Bengalis for they are always lounging?

There is this Bong designer, Sabyasachi Mukherjee. I remember his early days when he would smile and do ordinary things with clothes which made them wearable. Now he talks about using leather and jute and all that crap and he invariably gets the models to look deglamourised in a trendy way – they mostly wear large glasses and bindis with any kind of outfit. It just looks terribly stagey and hardly dramatic.

What is the point being made here? That you can be a plain Jane and carry it off? Who the hell is some designer to convey that? These clothes are pricey and lack basic aesthetics. Talking about silhouettes is not going to change the fact that wearing long tunics over short capris will always make you look like you are a behenji who has rolled up her churidar for a little dip in the beach waters because your shauhar said, “Chalo ji, kuchch paaon tau geele kar lo!”

I am really tired of this….then they go on about cuts and lines. We are Indians; we have curves. Real curves. And we like it. As women. We don’t give a damn what some men, and to hell with designers being gay, want. If you care so much for the flat look then just dress your male models as women, like you made them dress like Sikhs. Not too tough. The androgynous look is what you want, and what you will get.

Deducing reducing

This is how we reduce people…

Toilet cleaners to walk NY ramp

New Delhi: A year ago, Vimla Atwal eked a living by cleaning outdoor pits used as toilets in a village. Next month, she will sashay down a New York ramp with top Indian models.

29 other female toilet cleaners who now have other jobs thanks to a rehabilitation programme run by a local firm, will participate in a series of events by the UN to mark the International Year of Sanitation. During their stay in New York, the 30 women will present a short film on their lives as well as take part in a fashion show.

For 12 months these women have been working in other jobs. Not everyone is so lucky. So why are they participating in anything to do with sanitation? Why are they being made to regurgitate their past? I am sick of these UN-sponsored events that make a mockery of people and the hard work they put in to make a decent living.

“A year ago I was looked down upon as an outcast in my village, but now I am ready to fly in a plane and take part in a fashion show,” said Atwal.

See, this is what happens. Embroidery, making pickles and noodles are not good enough for respectability. Has the UN invited people who do chikankari, who are part of the milk co-operatives, the group that has made a success of a papad company?

And I am emphasising people. Why are only women toilet cleaners being invited? There are thousands of men who are also in this job.

This is one more gimmick.

- - -

Sikh model the new rage in US

New York: One of the key attractions at New York’s Rockefeller Centre is a life-size picture of a turban-clad young Sikh. It has the Sikh community buzzing, with messages pouring in from across the globe praising him for turning his religious identity into a fashion statement.

An ad by fashion designer Kenneth Cole solicited, “A Sikh male, about 25 to 35 years old, who is ‘attractive’” for a worldwide campaign titled ‘Non-Uniform Thinkers’ to mark the brand’s 25th anniversary, with the focus being: “We all walk in different shoes.”

Caberwal was honoured for this achievement during the fifth annual Capitol Hill Dinner organized by the US-based Sikh Council on Religion & Education (SCORE) on June 11. Sikhs from across the world are all praise for Caberwal, especially at a time when the community feels it is being increasingly racially profiled in the US post 9/11 and elsewhere in the world as it struggles to maintain its religious identity.

I agree there is racism. But is being a goddamn mute picture because you are attractive or of a certain age sending out any special message? The fashion house specified Sikh male; they wanted a bloody turban to sell their “different shoes” idea. They were using him, his religious identity.

This is simply outrageous. And to think that he is being feted for it.

We as a society have begun to believe that getting scraps from the West is enough. If they are racist, then they have to solve the issues in their heads. Let us not get carried away by these token gestures. What the hell does “non-uniform thinkers” mean here? Are fashionistas thinkers (except perhaps when they have to think about what to wear and what to team up with which pair of shoes, belts, and accessories)? And non-uniform means different, as in not one kind. So the Sikh is being put up in a cardboard form but he sure as daylight is not a part of the mainstream.

Now go hang yourselves with that long rope you have been given…

- - -

And…

Sharif wants Musharraf hanged

The crowds have been chanting this. The same crowds that voted for democracy and civil society. The same society is even listening to Nawaz Sharif and Zardari, whose histories are not quite without blemish?

Yes, hang Musharraf. But before that do something about the Constitution.

Fashion, my foot

Her skin shone in the bikini she wore, a bright yellow. From the car window her cellophane wrapped body appeared like it was covered with a tantalising sheer garment. She was dark. Very dark. But that is not how you refer to people on the cover of Vogue, even the Indian edition. You say she is dusky. You find new words that convey sex appeal, lusciousness.

I waved my hand to denote that I was not interested. A pair of dark eyes looked at me and pointed fingers at the model. “Madam, le lo, phashun hai.”

Shaking my head, I looked at the girl selling these copies. Her hair was tied carelessly on the top of her head, her eyes were beseeching and she was dark. No one would find words like dusky for her skin, or dark and inviting for her eyes. She was too young for a bikini, but her clothes were torn at the shoulder.

We held each other’s gaze for a long time.

I often wonder about the chasms that exist. What makes one superior to the other? Is it us? Would I have waved my hand had the model stood in front of me trying to market some two-piece at a fashion show?

- - -

Taking of fashion shows, I am just so glad that this ridiculous one currently going on, the Lakme Fashion Week, is finally over. You might wonder why it ought to bother me at all. Because I open the pages of our national newspapers and it is all there. In nauseating detail. Even when an attempt is made to expose how foreign buyers don’t give a shit, it looks ridiculous. For, I watch those so-called authorities on fashion, with their pumped up white porcine faces and their own silly clothes and wonder how they can sit and judge and say things like we need to focus.

We need to shut shop. This fashion parody has been going on for too long and makes no sense. I believe there was one show where all the male models were dressed as Sikhs because it was a sporting line and Sikhs are sporty! What next, a cocktail line should have Malayalis because they drink like crazy, and a lounge line ought to have Bengalis for they are always lounging?

There is this Bong designer, Sabyasachi Mukherjee. I remember his early days when he would smile and do ordinary things with clothes which made them wearable. Now he talks about using leather and jute and all that crap and he invariably gets the models to look deglamourised in a trendy way – they mostly wear large glasses and bindis with any kind of outfit. It just looks terribly stagey and hardly dramatic.

What is the point being made here? That you can be a plain Jane and carry it off? Who the hell is some designer to convey that? These clothes are pricey and lack basic aesthetics. Talking about silhouettes is not going to change the fact that wearing long tunics over short capris will always make you look like you are a behenji who has rolled up her churidar for a little dip in the beach waters because your shauhar said, “Chalo ji, kuchch paaon tau geele kar lo!”

I am really tired of this….then they go on about cuts and lines. We are Indians; we have curves. Real curves. And we like it. As women. We don’t give a damn what some men, and to hell with designers being gay, want. If you care so much for the flat look then just dress your male models as women, like you made them dress like Sikhs. Not too tough. The androgynous look is what you want, and what you will get.

Some of us look like women even when we wear men's kurtas, like I often do. Latest acquisition is one in lime-green, teamed up with brown slacks and a beaded necklace with a bronze pendant that has an elephant motif.

No need for the trumpets, too…

News Meeows - 12

Aamir Khan organised a special screening of his latest film Taare Zameen Pe for the leader of Opposition, LK Advani, who was in tears watching it.

The subject on a dyslexic child has been sensitively handled, I am told. I have yet to watch it, but how does Advani crying become news? Worse, watch the picture, Najma Heptullah, who happens to be Aamir’s aunt, looks decidedly shaken and Advani's daughter seems to be condoling.

Now, let us recall: Aamir has often been targeted by the BJP and his films were not screened in Gujarat after he took part in the Narmada Bachao Andolan. Anyone with some self-respect would not run to Delhi to be a part of this tamasha, unless you need to market your film. As for Ms Heptullah, my knowledge of her is of a warm person; the only aspect that rankled was her complete faith in the Gandhi family. What rankled even more was when she switched to the BJP.

- - -

In what is yet another exposé of the sordid side of the glamour world, the crime branch police on Sunday arrested a Belgian national who allegedly sexually abused male models in the city under the pretext of giving them modelling assignments. He allegedly targeted young men from other states who were in the city looking for modelling jobs. Then, seeing that the victim began trusting him completely, he would slowly begin sexually exploiting him. Apparently, he even filmed his rendezvous with the models and would circulate the CDs overseas.

=

It is time the cops took action. Foreigners are given kid-glove treatment and while the women who are exploited rightly complain and there is need for stringent action against the locals who misbehave with them, we have to keep in mind that at almost all holiday destinations tourists take advantage of locals, especially the poor and illiterate. These models at least can voice their protest. Hundreds of cases get buried beneath the hot sands of beach resorts.

Also, the social circuit puffs up every white skin that comes here to work for some multi-national company; they are feted at the best parties. Back home no one would have bothered about them.

- - -

A few members of Samajwadi Yuvjan Sabha, led by its zonal leader Farukh Ghosi, held a protest on Sunday against controversial Indian-born British writer Salman Rushdie outside the residence of Parmeshwar Godrej in Juhu. The protesters, carrying flags of the Samajwadi Party, raised slogans against the writer and the Indian government. “Salman Rushdie waapas jao,” shouted a protester.

=

Rushdie was here on a private visit for some charity work organised by Ms. Godrej. I do not know how and why Indian charities continually need some famous outsider to further their cause. Also, if it was a private visit, how did it become public?

One more intriguing twist here: It was the Samajwadi Party wing that protested. Its supporters include Anil Ambani who

is quite thick with the Godrej family.

- - -

Osama bin Laden’s 26-year-old son has sought a British visa so that he and his granny bride can live in the country and have a surrogate child. British Embassy officials in Cairo have interviewed Omar bin Laden who plans to settle down with his 52-year-old wife Jane Felix-Browne at her home in Cheshire, have a child through a surrogate mother and work as “peace activists”.

May I know why she is constantly referred to as ‘granny bride’? Doddering old men in their 80s marry women in their 20s and no one refers to them as ‘grandpa groom’.

I can understand this being news because of the Osama connection. It is a sensitive topic and perhaps cause for concern among some sections of society. But let the officials do their investigations and let these two get on with their life together. They got married in September 2006, so it is not a flash in the pan. Not yet. And whatever it is at the personal level, it is their business.

- - -

The man, whom Princess Diana described as “Mr Wonderful” and “the greatest love of her life”, has broken his silence for the first time, admitting that he’s still “haunted by the Princess’ memory.” Di’s former lover and heart specialist Dr Hasnat Khan confessed that he has still not recovered from the princess’ death, and feels like screaming at times.

He paid homage to Diana by discussing the respect in which he holds the late princess, and criticising her memorial fountain in the process. “Creating a fountain is not how you should remember a great person. You put great people up as high as possible. Look at Nelson,” he said

Where was he all these years when all manner of memorials were erected in the memory of the woman who continues to haunt him? She may have been a great partner to him, a great human being, but she was not a great person as in those who change the way society thinks or bring about a renaissance or make a difference in public life. She was a social asset, not a national asset.

I think he was better off quiet.

- - -

Two of a kind

Baba Ramdev had become notorious when the CPI discovered skulls in his ashram. Here he is blessing who else but Narendra Modi. No comments!