Growing Pains of an Immigrant Life

An Immigrant life is often challenging albeit amusing. Though I immigrated to another country I can’t speak on this topic with authority, let’s just say I am one of the worst immigrants one has ever come across. This blog post is not to scrutinize my total inability to cozy up to a new place but to cheer all those funny and bizarre experiences that made me smile through my toughest phase yet. I must warn you though; I may need to resort to twisted ways to extrapolate my theory.

Knowing your phone etiquette is half the battle won: No one told me this and it is one of those dark mysterious secrets of an immigrant life. As an Indian, I knew where to get Indian groceries the day I arrived. I also got lectured by my fellow Indian friends (who had just arrived a few days earlier) on all sorts of odds and ends like where milk is cheap or where I can buy my winter clothes. Mobiles phone etiquette in North America however, remained in the oblivion.

I learnt, very brusquely, not to get excited and call all my jobless friends during the day to willfully endure myself to any pearls of wisdom they may have about coping in a new country. When you call during the day you’ll notice that your polite Canadian friends will answer the phone and stick to a succinct conversation. Your new found Indian friends (the same those who freely and eagerly gave you long sermons on every way to make your dollar last) on the other hand, will be out right rude and not answer your phone. And while you scratch your head and wonder what you did just within days of landing in a new country to rub someone the wrong way, you will discover, after 5.00PM, that incoming calls are charged during the day. Yes it was only after my husband found the phone bill, and had a minor heart attack, did he explain to me the wacky concept of being charged for incoming calls. It was totally unheard of in India and I didn’t even know you could be charged for it. Clearly, I was a cell phone abuser back home and the rest of the country was no better. I only wish these mysterious charges could be applied in India I could have avoided half my calls under this pretext.

The mobile concept in the west is far more complicated than meets the eye. As if this restricted calling was not bad enough, I had to learn a whole new chapter in my life - voice messages. Since I was never in the habit of leaving or receiving voice messages, I found this to be very strange and left a lot of weird and abrupt messages or simply didn’t leave one at all. Well again most of my immigrant friends were in the same boat. Not only did I have to do it for my mobile phone but also my work phone!

As Indians we jumped when mobile phones were introduced, we took to them like fish to water. However, in all the mobile frenzy, one habit never died - we still yell on the phone like during the painful days of trunk dialing. I have seen my grandmother do it, then my mother. I come from a family of yellers and I speak with a lot of gusto. Talk softly, the line is perfectly clear whether you are calling your next door neighbor or your distant relative on the other coast. When you conquer the art of talking softly on the phone don’t shove your new found habit down your mother’s throat, it will have severe consequences (remember, she is a yeller)!

Immigration will teach you what bankruptcy feels like: I felt very confident that we had shown sufficient funds to earn us a Canadian visa. It is only when I got here did the reality of it all sink in. The healthy balance that I saw in my bank account in Bangalore, which could have easily paid for nice vacation and several pairs of shoes, was an illusion. For it diminished to less than quarter when I came here. It is when I learnt the most crucial lesson of all; do not count your chickens before they hatch.

A typical Indian is very indiscreet about his finances and also loves to pry into his neighbours’ as well. I have lost track of the times a rather annoying mama (uncle) has asked me how much I make. And when I state my abysmal media salary his expression would show absolute contempt. He would then flaunt his Techi grandson’s astronomical salary, and lecture me on what I can do to better my poor career choices. Now, I will probably never meet this fictitious grandson, neither does the poor boy in question know his bank balances are doing rounds in the Mylapore kacheri circle.  The point being, this indiscretion shows its ugly head in many weird ways in a new country. Your Indian friends will always ask you how much you spend on your grocery, phone bill, clothes to just about anything and they will be happy to share all these details with you. Initially, it drove me crazy and then I would state the price before stating what I bought! Don’t take this annoying habit with you to work; you’ll be surprised what a different perspective your Canadian friends have on spending.

Housing, and more so rent, was another hot topic amongst us – the new immigrants. It was very competitive and the lower rent you pay the greater heights you will scale in the immigrant circle echelon. I pay 800$ in rent, which is a real bargain for a downtown apartment, however, for the first few months I nearly died every time I had to write out the cheque. That brings me to my next point, when it comes to money do not convert, it will only give you an ulcer! Everyone around will convert for you. For instance I spent a decent chunk of money to get myself a really warm cozy winter jacket, although the jacket kept me warm and will continue to do so for several winters, (provided it does not go out of fashion) I lost all my sanity over it! Every Indian friend of mine would promptly convert and rebuke my choices. Some would be more tactful than others but being diplomatic is certainly not one our best strengths. Your fellow immigrants will convert and will consider it a blasphemy if you spend 150$ for a pair of boots (but I love it). Yes! That was another one of my brave indulgent purchases for which I was never spared!  My defaming decisions have evicted my husband, who could no longer be in the running for ‘poster boy’ of the new immigrant community.

Even though I poke fun at my Indian friends, I am truly grateful for having them around. I clung on to them for my dear life in a new country and found some solace in knowing that they really understood what I was going through. It’s amazing how this opportunity pushed me to meet people from my own country, who otherwise would have been misfits in my delusional world that I built for myself.

Immigration teaches you a lot of things and I prescribe it to everyone. Every day in a new country is a challenge but I have learnt, in a very painful and agonizing way, to make the best of both worlds. Embrace the new values and make it your own by immersing it in what you already know. Above all my friend, be proud of who you are and stop faking your accent within days of getting here!

The Last Laugh: Book Review

I love short stories. They are always an easy read, written to accommodate interruptions of daily life and yet leave you fulfilled. Sometime ago, a friend of mine sent me ‘The Last Laugh’, a collection of stories penned by a debutante author Ramya Sethuraman. I quickly read it, cover to cover, over two train journeys to work.

Ramya‘s stories deftly illustrate the intricate human emotions of love, friendship, deceit, guilt and sometimes of its shortcomings. Her writing is simple yet eloquent. Her words evoke sensations, of smell, sight and flavor. Her characters are well established and her attention to detail is remarkable.

In ‘The day I became Krishnaa’, my personal favourite - An aspiring writer, Krishnaa, pens the story of the two women she adores the most. Her grandmother, Lakshmi a strong-willed, compelling woman steeped in her traditional way of life. And her mother, Nalini, a soft-spoken, bashful but intelligent daughter-in-law. In her quest of self discovery Krishnaa understands the tumultuous dynamics of caste system and the unspoken bond of love that links her mother to her grandmother.

Her title story, ‘The Last Laugh’ however, lacks the finesse observed in some others. For me the emotions felt contrived and the story failed to build up characters that are quintessential to the book. Having said that, I enjoyed Ramya’s portrayal of the fiery, passionate Raji in ‘Silambattam’, the delicate, faithful Radha in ‘Radha and I ‘and the apprehensive, chatterbox Radhika in ‘The prophecy’.

While most of the stories employ an exotic south Indian backdrop and bring to life ordinary plots, some stories reveal the author’s confusion in the landscape. For instance, in ‘Letting go of Anand Nivas’, the setting is ambiguous with its reference to Urdu ghazals and turbans that is predominantly popular in the north and the unfitting filter coffee which is radically south.

With its predictably happy and tear jerker endings, ‘The Last Laugh’ has all the awkwardness of a debutante author. And while the book may stop short of becoming one of your go to books, there are moments that make you believe that the striking story teller Ramya Sethuraman is someone to watch out for.

On the whole, this book makes for a quick read and I would give it a rating of 3.5/5

You can also visit Ramya’s blog http://whimsicalraconteur.blogspot.com/ and read about her upcoming projects and her other works of fiction. ‘The last Laugh’ is available on all the websites listed on Ramya’s blog.

3 is a Crowd

When they say 3 is a crowd, it really is a crowd! Especially when it is you, your mother and mother-in-law. Today, I am a victim of mamtha (motherly love), endowed generously, doused with extra toppings of paternal advice by 2 of the most highly opinionated, and influential women in my life.

In the last 8 years of my life I have done the moving, packing, shifting, settling and even finding my feet in a new city, on my own. But since the time I have been married my survival credibility has been questioned at every step.

Moving to Toronto has probably been the most harrowing experience of my life. Not because I had any trouble with my Visa or immigration, but because my mom and mom-in-law had taken it upon themselves to help me move and settle. And as the saying goes, there is going to be fire when you see the smoke.

I had to pack a suitcase full of everything my mother felt I would need for the kitchen and home.

Me - ‘Mom this is too much, I have enough vessels to cook for an army’

Mom - ‘What would you know? Tomorrow I don’t want your mother-in-law to complain that I didn’t teach you anything. Dhivya, you are going to need these. Like this size vessel is perfect to heat milk in for 2 people. And please keep one vessel to make your masala food that reeks of garlic and a separate one for our Tamil Brahmin kind of food. Make sure you don’t mix the two.’

During my bachelorette days I only had the utensils my mom never wanted, and I would use them as I pleased.

Me - ‘AAAAaaaaarrrrggggghhhhh what is this?’

Mom - ‘That’s a coconut scraper. You need it to make avial.’

Me - ‘I hate avial.’

Mom - ‘So you’ll starve poor Vivek?’

Me - ‘Like avial was the only food he would ever eat’

My mom and I had a million arguments about my way of life, cooking and house keeping before I got to Toronto. She wasn’t sure if I would pass my mother-in-law’s (who on her part set up the kitchen with another set of pots and pans that she thought I would need to feed her son) scrutiny.

By no stretch of my imagination did I ever see this coming. My mom and mom-in-law helping me settle into my newly wedded life with someone I have known for nearly a decade.

From day 1, I was given a crash course on everything - stocking masalas, making rajma, quantity and proportion, types of rice, laundry, ironing, doing dishes, seasoning, cooking for more than 2 people, tips on what to pack for lunch when I start working, what does Vivek like, preparing grocery lists, oils and their use and how to plan my day. Every other advice that they could find from their own experiences of good house keeping was doled out to me for free.

And if this weren’t bad enough they marched me to various grocery stores from Walmart, Value mart, No Frills, Fair Price, Dollorama, and to every Indian store we could find in Little India, like Ambal grocery and Padma Stores, where prices were painstakingly compared and lists were made on where to buy what for cheap. Now I truly know why Indian advertisers are so desperate to woo the Indian house wife, she knows her deals at the back of her hand.

What’s ironic is, in all this, Vivek seems to be getting all the sympathy votes. The general thought at home being, “poor Vivek has so much to study, what would Dhivya lose if she made one more dish?”

My fingers are sore scribbling recipes and preparing lists and my head throbs every time I am faced with a mind-numbing pop up quiz at a grocery store about the types of rice available, but I know I am settled and these two women are to be credited for it. I may bitch, complain, whine and vent about my predicament, but the truth is they have worked extremely hard to make my transition into Toronto and my new life extremely easy.

Even though I do not know what to do with half the stuff in my kitchen I know I’ll figure it out. And about the recipe book, I hope to add a few pages of my own. Because when my day comes to play the harrowing part, I want to be just as good as these 2 wonderful women.

After a Hiatus

I am back from my hibernation. The world feels changed (it even smells different, Oh wait! Someone here farted), I feel changed. About the world – Everyday we are losing parts of MG Road to the Metro, India coffee house shut down after a lifetime of existence, General elections were held, there was the IPL and then the T20, Michael Jackson died, and Delhi high court in a landmark judgement legalised homosexuality.

On the personal front – I moved from advertising to brand and communication research (I am loving it), I got married, I am moving to Canada, I quit a job I love, I am a wannabe long distance runner - I ran at the Auroville quarter marathon and then at the Sunfeast world 10K, my new favourite brand of beer is Hoeggarden.

Having said this, Some things haven’t changed – I still love the smell of freshly baked bread, I am still a foodie, I still think my first boss was the best boss ever, I love my current job and am traumatised at the thought of quitting it, I still get excited by social media trends, I still suffer from shoe fetish, above all I still love blogging and this is my revival post.

Rains in Mumbai floods Twitter

Twitter saw a flurry of tweets as the rains lashed out in Mumbai for 30 hours. The response was almost overwhelming, as people all over Mumbai and even outside reached out and helped one another by posting tweets (tagged #mumbairains) on water logged areas.

The Mumbai Rain tweets were peppered with news reports and personal accounts. It covered the geographic lanscape of Mumbai and was the trending topic of the day

Twitter Tends http://twist.flaptor.com/

Amrutanjan makes funniest home Video

Aches and pains are hardly funny but Amrutanjan begs to differ. The 100 year old pain reliever brand, with its candid camera style ad, has brought in a wave a of slapstick humor into the category.

Imitating the candid camera genre of unscripted humor, the film opens with a man on the diving board. He accidentally slips and has a nasty, undeniably OUCH’ fall. Cut to a woman at a pool side restaurant. She pulls up a chair for herself, and to her horror the chair slips at the proverbial moment. What follows is a comical picturisation of her struggle to stay heads up. Alas! She goes into the pool, with a table for companionship. The 30 second depicts multiple comic bloopers to emphasize the fact that accidents can happen anytime and one ought to be ready. Ready, in this case means, keeping a pack of Amurtanjan Balm handy.




The comic mishap of the lady falling into the pool really looks like a candid moment while the one with the construction worker, who while passing bricks accidently gets thwacked in the head with one, looks contrived.

The raw feel of a home video convincingly conveys the simple brand proposition - be ready. What’s even more wonderfull, each individual blooper can lend to a small 10 second edit.

Interestingly the ad crafted on a low budget by Mudra Communications, was shot on hand held camera by Footcandles Film to lend it the right amateurish feel.

This ad definitely takes me back in time when old funny home videos of people, falling off slides or landing in funny postures, would make me laugh till my sides hurt. Surprisingly they do manage to garner a decent TRP even today, otherwise one wouldn’t find old reruns and hindi edits of these videos on air eve today. Well, just to give you an idea of what exactly I am referring to here, let me give you an example. A really, and I mean really, old imported comedy show that used to run on DD. Didi’s, or was it Dee Dee’s, comedy show.

Although I have outgrown home videos and may not necessarily find the ad funny, I have to admit that this particular treatment may actually pull off a stunt that could succeed in turning a fuddy duddy brand like Amrutanjan into a far younger brand.

The ad would probably make competition go right back to their drawing boards and figure out something new to replace the run off the mill strategy of ‘we relieve you of your pain faster than others’.

Over all production value: Excellent
Creative strategy: Excellent
Viral capabilities: Too early to tell
Ease of understanding: Average

Final Verdict: Although not ourageously funny, the ad might just work for an otherwise depressing category

Brand IPL on the Blogsphere

Perfectly timed, hogging the prime hours of the Indian summer, IPL gave us more than one reason to stay glued to our television sets. This one sporting event has taken cricket as a game to a whole new frenzy. Cricket enthusiasts have become fanatics, and the cricket fanatics, well the less said the better. Even the grumpy grandfather, who crinkled his nose for crippling the game from the glorious matches straddling over days to a mere 20 overs joke, is smiling in approval. He is also secretly envious of the multitude of opportunities young cricketing talents have today. And with Bollywood showing generous amounts of interest, we as marketers will only be too glad to put our monies on the table without batting an eyelid.

Indian Premier League managed 16, 500 posts in 45 day.

Each of the 8 teams chosen to play, in the past month, has managed to exhibit certain personality traits unique to the team. The teams have managed to create substantial buzz on the blogsphere. Consumer Generated Media has been voraciously following everything about IPL form the fat pay cheques to Sachin’s injury to the skimpy skirts of the cheerleaders ;), nothing is being spared.

Clearly blogs and bloggers have their own biases, and some teams have been doing the rounds far more than others.

Despite not qualifying for the semis, Knight Riders managed to rake in maximum number of posts in the blogsphere. Is it the SRK Magic or Kolkatta's ardent support for their team?

Rajasthan Royals, the winner and the least expensive team of the tournament,

got noticed by blogs towards the last leg of the tournament. Fianlly their Stellar performance got noticed!

I made a few observations, some scary, some surprising and some just bowled me over

- A team’s performance alone is not enough for them to tide the blogsphere.
- Although ‘Eat cricket. Sleep cricket. Drink cricket’ still holds true, Bollywood continues to remain the unbeatable baap of entertainment
- An individual gets far more recognition than a team as a whole
- Particular incidents picked up by media, like SRK smoking or spending too much time with his team or Vijay Mallya firing Chaaru Sharma, can spike the trend chart.

The flamboyant Mallya and the bollywood king SRK have made bigger dents on the blogsphere than the shrewd Amabani

- IPL ads have also contributed to certain amount of noise on the blogsphere.

IPL or no IPL cricket will always be a favourite topic on blog. But this one event has created a lot of gossip value for the sport. Even non-cricket bloggers like me are blogging about it. From an extravagant opening ceremony to Bajji allegedly slapping Sreeshant, blogs and bloggers have been reveling in all the juicy details.

Do i need to elaborate this :)

A lot of brands are piggybacking on the noise IPL has managed to stir. It has positive influence on readership and viewership. Media has put the 45 day event on the front page and prime time of news channels. What’s more, it has decided to stay put there for the entire course of summer alluring readers and viewers. Despite all the degraded voyeurism, the sponsors are thrilled, as they are getting more than their monies worth.

Who is the popular Captain?

Thanks to Bollywood, IPL was executed in a rather filmy style full of action, drama, masala, and yeah we did manage to catch a glimpse of good cricket somewhere along the way. Without Bollywood’s fervent support the cricketing fraternity alone wouldn’t have managed to pull off a 45 days fanfare.

Fastrack 2.0: The Social Media Logic

After Axe and Sunsilk, Fastrack has decided to test itself in the web2.0 space. It was the obvious next step for this youth fashion brand from the house of Titan. Fastrack has gotten the chemistry going, they created quite a buzz with their ‘how many you have man?’ campaign. Operating in an attractive price band, Fastrack had vibrant designs at the other end of the buzz, waiting to flatter the eager customer. And none were disappointed.

Today Web 2.0 is a gregarious place to be in. The blogs, forums and communities are bursting with youth and eclectic conversations and a brand that targets them ought to be in it. The density of players in this field is light and most are still grappling with the social networking phenomena. So it only makes sense to make hay while the sun shines. Although some brands have made a brave foray into this dynamic space where the consumer controls the communication, most Indian brands are still reluctant and skeptical since they have no means of analyzing the ROI that web 2.0 is bringing in.

Fastrack has however, struck the right chord with the internet savvy youth. Axe, which clearly set up the first virtual campus, now has Fastrack on its heels. Both the brands specialize in different subjects one borders on the art of seduction and the other on fashion. The spunky new space on the web has made Fastrack a new cool place to hangout while online. The collection displayed in a diary on a chaotic desk caught my fancy. The brand has lunged headlong into social networking, they even have fan clubs on orkut and facebook.

The brand’s foray into eyewear was another strategic move. Fastrack eyewear signed John Abraham as their brand ambassador, a perfect fit for the brand. A biker who endorses bike brands is now endorsing a bikers’ accessories brand. It couldn’t get any better than this.

The new collection of neon disc watches has been a tad bit disappointing. After watching the catchy 15 seconder on air, I went to the store to check out the new line, somehow it doesn’t come across as innovative or new. However, a brand like Fastrack, that has gotten everything right in the past, is allowed a few tasteless slips.

From Sassy to Plain Jane

With this year end I have decided to restore the template of my blog to the standard blogger template. The truth is, ever since I started Travel Tadka, I have been tempted by the easy features blogger templates offer. Grappling with long code turned out to be quite sticky. It would take eons for me to add a new widget for the code had to plugged in seamlessly and all the appropriate tags had to be closed. When something would go amiss, it would seethe to the surface defacing my blog and restoring it would be an excruciatingly painful exercise (clearly a non techie issue here). Finding an easier way out, I sold myself to blogger.

In the process of shifting or migrating I did loose links to many of my favourite blogs. The good part however is, the damage is not too sever. Thanks to Sakshi (She’s got a blog mine, anything happening on the blogsphere or Bollywood she’s the first to know) I was able to refurbish my blogroll with some really interesting blogs. It allowed me to delete blogs I had stopped following, or those that were outdated, deleted or stopped existing. I even managed to kick out some pointless widgets.

I would, sometime later, look for a template that is crafted for me and my inane musings, but for now and till I can afford a designer its going to be 'Hail Blogger'.

The new look is definitely a whole lot cleaner, chirpier and clutter free. The paper scribble look of the old template was chaotic; it did not support many functions and was not really blogging friendly. However, I do miss the energy and the kind of nonchalance it had. I am also going to miss the ‘oh so fantastic template’ comments. But I am nearly 25 now and my blog ought to stop looking like schools girl’s diaries (I know I am consoling myself). Although I wonder if people who really know would be convinced by a template change:).

The Big Fat Punjabi Wedding

Punjus are a class apart; they are noisy, campy, colourful, flamboyant and loud and have no qualms about it. I envy them for that. A community that is the biggest consumer of practically everything from scotch to mercs has every right to be as cuckoo as them.

A week after attending my best friends wedding I am still reveling in the grandeur an authentic Punjabi wedding has to offer. I landed in the subdued town of Bariley, but subdued is not a word I would use for the wedding and definitely not for a Punju wedding.

The invite read cocktail evening, followed by cocktail and wedding the second day. So I was assured booze is going to be on the house for the next 2 days. The evening was nippy, a distant faint music was getting louder as we drove on and I could hear the music clearly “balle balle oh balle balle… sharabi…” humming along I smiled to myself knowing this was going to be one crazy evening.

When we entered, the party was in full swing. It was only 9.00pm, the Baggas (the bride’s side) and the Batras (groom’s side) had already gotten their guests dancing and tipsy. After a quick round of introductions we headed to the bar and had to fight our way through burly Punjabis. My bloody mary seemed meek amidst all the double large scotch and Patiala shots.

One had to be a Punjabi to drink like a fish and still be able to pull off a graceful balle balle on the dance floor. As the latest bollywood numbers began to reverberate in the hall, thousand rupee notes started flying all over the place. The party went on till the wee hours of the morning, punjus drank and danced relentlessly until they were forcibly asked to stop. The non punjus, well we were no competition, we passed out early on.

I am in the habit of calling my friend Neha, Bagga. When I met her on her wedding I called out to her in a rather girly high pitched voice, and had about 20 baggas turn around and look at me questioningly and then everyone knew me just like that. I loved it, punjus have a big heart and they accepted people warmly. Then all evening I had people fawning and fussing over me wanting to know if I had eaten, or if I was enjoying myself. I found food being sent to our table constantly and my glass being filled as quickly as its contents were being emptied. The buas and the mausies all hugged me and asked them to join me in their dance. In all the alcohol infused haziness guests weren’t forgotten, they made me feel a part of the family, I was truly moved.

Now punjus have an unwritten wedding rule that I unraveled during the course of the 2 days. Alcohol and dancing precedes and succeeds every little ceremony. The second morning I was surprised to find the Bagga family looking fresh as daisies despite having pelted countless double larges. We were groggy and hung over and every muscle in our bodies ached from all the dancing, while the Bagga family went around greeting us and the others chirpily. I was wondering if they were the same people who were wasted the previous night, if they were they showed no signs of it. After a hearty breakfast, I was quickly ushered next to the bride for the bangle and haldi ceremony.

These bangles are a symbol of a newly wed bride. One can spot her from miles away, the bright red colour of the bangles and its jangle always gives her away. To the red bangles the women tie a variety of golden trinkets. She later walks around clapping her hand on heads of young girls of marriageable age and when the trinkets fall on some girl’s head, it means she is going to be wed soon, similar to throwing the bouquet. We then smeared haldi on her face, arms and legs. Haldi has a lot of special properties, one of which is supposed to give the bridal glow. Later in the evening when I saw Neha ready to take her wedding vows I saw her glowing I don’t know if it was the haldi or excitement or both.

Like you guessed, after the haldi we danced again and the liquor flowed freely. This time I chose to stick to orange juice. The lunch had a huge spread and was very rich. Yes there was the butter chicken, dal makni assortment of rotis and rice but there also was the rather succulent mutton, vegetables, salad, raita, pappads and pickle. For dessert I had the yummy halwa and iceream and then decided to hit the sack for an afternoon siesta while the festivities continued. Balle balle was my lullaby that afternoon, I slept to the sound of laughter.

The evening of the wedding was the same as the previous evening, only 3 times more grand. There was a long queue of starters and snacks stalls that housed everything from pani purri to the Punjabi version of masala dosa. I obviously didn’t spare a thing, except the dosas, coming from the land of dosas I was only too happy to skip its punju version. The booze counter was bustling with activity when the groom arrived on a white horse. The dancing barath of the Batra clan were welcomed by the Baggas with garlands and host of refreshments and beverages. So you can say the drinking started at the gate only to stop at the mandap at 2.00 in the night.

The Baggas, the Batras, the Mehtas, the Chopras and the Aroras did what they knew the best, danced and drank away joyously to the music and enjoyed every moment of it. I reveled in the festivities and was left in awe for the punjabis. By the end of it I was ready to become a bagga or a chopra.

As the night wore away the crowd dwindled till only close family and friends, i.e., us, remained. In the presence of these few the bride and groom took their wedding vows - the Sath Phere and then the bride left to her new home. The Baggas were in tears, so was I to see my best friend married off.

This blog has been really long for it is not the insipid Tam Bram wedding that can be captured in lesser words, it’s a carnival, it’s the big fat Punjabi wedding.

Peacock Trails

Grandmum’s tales would be insipid without the brave maharaja, the wily snake charmer or the playful elephant, and so will our mythology itself. These tales, so much a part of every Indian child’s growing up, are still echoing in the quaint streets of Mylapore. Be it the thriving temple economy or vibrant kolams adorning door steps or the colorful gopuram of the Kapaleeshwar temple, each has its own share of stories to tell. And what better way to savour the city than through its stories. One such story teller is ‘Peacock Trails’, a journey of unraveling these little traditions and customs that makes Chennai so kitsch.

The trail, starting outside, the Kapaleeshwar temple in Mylapore traverses many myriad rituals associated with the temple, the teeming life that has stemmed around the temple. It takes you to the tomb of the St. Thomas, the apostle who brought Christianity to, Santhome and ends with a grand breakfast at Saravana Bhavan.

A lot caught my fancy, for one the Jennal Hotel (Window hotel). It has been around for the last 50 years (like a lot of other stores in Mylapore), dishing out piping hot sambar and idli in the morning and a tiffin (light evening snack) in the evening. Living up to its name, the restaurant has no tables or chairs. It is not even what you would call ‘a stand and eat joint’. It’s an old Brahmin serving food from a window. The tradition has been handed down from father to son, and what’s more, the prices still haven’t changed much since then.

Ever noticed the intricate patterns decorating the threshold of houses? It’s what we call a ‘Kolam’ in the south, Rangoli in the north, but unlike the Rangoli the Kolam is not just for cosmetic value. It is an indication that all is well in the house. Incase of a death in the house the family stops putting kolam outside their homes so passers by would know they are grieving. The rice flour used in the kolam also serves as food for ants. The otherwise white kolam comes alive during temple festivals with the women of the house trying to outdo others with huge intricate patterns splashed with colour.

They have a story for everything – why do we have so many gods to why we go clockwise around the temple. Story Trails will even tell you the right place to get your ancestral veena repaired to how to drink your filter coffee. They believe stories show you the way of life. Flavoured with traditions, these stories have grown and evolved with civilization, dynasties and people, and continue to remain relevant even today. Vijay (founder of Story Trails) and Vishna (our storyteller) are like Scheherazade of Arabian nights. They have a thousand and one stories to tell, one just has to keep listening.

With a riot of colours, seasoned with the idiosyncrasies of the tam bram community, the wafting smell of filter coffee mingling with incense, the journey is exhilarating and intoxicating.

Technicolor Dream

Totally over the top and completely bizarre is Farah's new found signature style and with the success of Om Shanti Om I am guessing it's for keeps. The movie is totally bling with its giddy music and psychedelic colours. It was a complete treat to the senses. After a seismic speculation I've decided not to get in to the glaring loop holes in the plot or reviewing the complete lack of story line. But I must say, I loved the movie. So what is the plot? You're clearly reading the blog this is just film appreciation.

The film was a celebration of the 70's as Bollywood painted it, a world of flashy make up, elaborate hairdos. The film has glorified all Bollywood stereotypes - the ma, the sindhur and the dialogues are cheesy, but really funny. The lines were oozing with melodrama and kiran kher has done full justice to it with all the necessary overacting. I would have never known you can keep the audience enthralled for three hours without a story!

Looking all dolled up was the debutant Deepika Padukone. She was a decent actress and good dancer although I must admit she didn't have a crucial role, she made her presence felt with those perfectly timed and dimpled smiles. It's a movie reveling in everything typical to the tinsel town – the red carpet stroll, award ceremonies, gossip and bitching.

What's worth a mention here is the filmfare awards ceremony, my personal favourite sequence. 'we are just good friends' haven't we heard that a zillion times before but Farah's movie has a different take on it. SRK, Akshay and Abhishek starring in films like Dhoom 5, Return of the Khiladi and Phir Bhi NRI are competing to clinch the best actor title, this one is a laugh riot. One can find the clip below.

After the super fun first half the second half was a tad stretchy. After all we are on real time again, but the song and dance sequence salvaged it. Ok, what Farha is really known for is here creds and for that let the drums beat and red carpets roll out, and let the real heroes take the stage. It's worthy of another post.

All said, it's a fun colorful film, and that too coming from a person who is not an SRK fan. I am sure that says a lot.

On a break!

There is going to be a lull at coffee and conversation but let me assure you It is only till the 11th of december. Then the blog post will be pouring in with renewed vigour. I off to Uttranchal and on the way manage to catch a colourful Punjabi wedding loads of yummy food, restaurants, jim corbett, chole bhature and experience on road. I'll have something to feed my new blog Travel Tadka as well...:)

Cheers

Bollywood on the Blogsphere

Bollywood is probably the most bizarre, the most melodramatic, the most unprofessional and the most unorganized industry and yet between their song and dance sequence one could learn a lesson or two on marketing. A lot of debate has been brewing on the web about the big banner movies hitting the box recently, and I was curious to find out how much Bollywood has impacted the Consumer Generated media (CGM).

The results were surprising at times and predictable at most others. The cumulative marketing efforts by production houses and films had a trickle down effect on the blog. For instance Om Shanti Om(OSO) had started doing the rounds in the media almost a year before its launch. To top it all there were a zillion promotions, interviews, contests, 70’s line being launched at Shopper’s Stop and hype leading up to the day of its premiere. News like the release of the film across an unprecedented 2000 plus screens worldwide, and the Manoj Kumar fiasco further drove the film towards a box office success.The chart indicates the presence of both OSO and Saawariya in the blogsphere over the past 6 months and clearly OSO has had a head start over Saawariya. My guess would be the latter is here only because of the former.

Three month tracker of OSO and Saawariya starting almost 2 months before release on November 9th till 20th of November.

OSO and Saawariya have managed to get over 50% of their blog posts in the last month alone, a time little before and after the launch.

One can only applaud the Integrated Marketing Campaign since its ROI has been tremendous. Despite the lack of any real story the movie has been a box office grosser and it’s a buzz on the blogging space with a total of 7669 blog posts only over the last 3 months alone. Some say, a great story doesn’t need over the top marketing, but I say it wouldn’t kill it either.

Its rival Saawariya hasn’t been doing too badly either. My guess would be that the two big budget films were pitted against each other by the media and the drama that followed was exciting and saw a nail biting finish for both. The numbers also indicate that despite a more sober marketing campaign the media hype saw Saawariya to a great start and still sees about 53 blog entries a day. The Razzle Dazzle of Farah’s Om Shanti Om still rules the roost and the blog pulse is an indication enough.

Another flick, Jab We Met by Imtiaz Ali that hit the silver screen on 26th October manages to scrape an average of 38 posts. The film with its fantastic story line and music tracks came only third to Om Shanti Om or Saawariya.

In the last 3 months Jab We Met has lesser posts than what OSO had in the last month alone.

The Maduri Dixit starrer - Aaja Nachle has been averaging 10 blogs over the last 3 months, and this month alone the average has been 13 plus. Now I hope there is a change of tide and the numbers are just as racy as her Jhatkas Matkas. Not only is she looking better than where she left off personally, I feel she hasn’t lost her edge despite competition. Madhuri’s return and her being the mother of two is causing quiet and uproar. She has everything going for her; great looks, dazzling smile, and what seems like a great story. What better come back could the Ek, Do, Teen gal look forward to?

Aaja Nachle is likely to rake in more posts as its edging towards its release. One can only wait and see if it challenge the astronomical numbers of OSO.

Author’s Note: I have used two tools to do the tracking one is IceRocket and the other BlogPulse (a service of AC Nielsen Metrics). I liked different features in each of them and hence have used both. In Ice Rocket the results are neatly tabulated and indicate average posts per day, average percent of all blog posts and total posts till date. Where as, Blog Pulse allows me to see a trend over a longer period of time. However, what both the tools lack is the ability to track really old data, so one is unable to track the growth or trends that have impacted the blogsphere over a couple of years. These tools are really useful nonetheless.