Sex Sells

“Suri”, I said, looking directly into his eyes, “Sex sells”.

I took a deep breath, before continuing,

“Look dude, that is the reality. You have to write about sex and other contemporary topics. That is when you begin to sell – I mean your work begins to sell”.

No. He wouldn’t buy it. He was inching further to one his “I-am-a-serious-writer-so-I-have-to-be-depressed” moods. I knew I had to try harder.

“Look at Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan.”, I said, before looking around to see if no one was eavesdropping on our conversation. To be more specific about the “no one”, I wanted to be sure that what I was about to tell my dear friend wouldn’t fall on the ears of some die-hard-feminist who would come charging at me with the “you-male-chauvinistic-pig” weapon. Convinced that we were alone, I continued boldly,

“She sells sex, and people read her work eagerly man. She writes about the men (I was not sure about the women part, so I didn’t think it would be proper to mention it) she bonked, her sexual escapades, her experiments with the cigarette, the drunken orgies she was part of and oh yeah, about her soul searching process and her version of the meaning of life”.

I paused to look if my speech was having any affect on him. No. He wouldn’t budge. He wouldn’t say a word. I did not want to give up. One last try and maybe he’ll see my point.

“Dude, you just can’t write about your childhood and adolescence and expect people to read about it. I mean you did not even speak with girls lest alone get close to them. Compare it with Ms. Madhavan who proudly proclaims to have dated two men at the same time even before she was twenty. People love to hear that man, and empathize with her and her sexual freedom – but don’t you even think of creating a fictitious character in your novel who would date two women at the same time – you’d be turning your hero into a Lying-Cheating-Bastard!!”

I decided to deliver the knock-out punch.

“And dude, what do you want to write about? The crush you had on the social teacher? The way you stole glances at girls who wouldn’t even look at you? Or your views about pure love and the ultimate sacrifice? Wake up man! Your audience is India’s Gen Next. Learn from Ms. Madhavan. Sensationalize your work. Use phrases like ‘my life is like a bra that has been put on wrong’. Litter your work with words like shit, fuck, bastard, bitch, relationship, love and of course, the USP, sex. That is what is going to make your work sound cool. And being cool is the in thing for Gen Next.”

I was done. I had hurt him enough. I looked at his moist eyes – I could see the pain. I knew he would never get it. I knew I could not stop him from writing his next book. And I knew what it was going to be about. He wouldn’t change. He was stuck in his own world of idealism where each of his characters breathed virtues. He could never be a realist and I knew that he would always remain unappreciated. I knew I had to buy several copies of his books from the book stands as I had done the last time. I knew that in his heart he knew that I had done so, but would never accept it.

I looked at the mirror and saw the serious author staring back at me. And in a hushed tone I asked myself – “Sex sells?”

Why?

There comes a time in life when you suddenly stop doing something you've been doing all along and ask yourself, 'why'?

Why were you doing that 'something'? Did you ever know why you were doing it, and just happened to forget the reason somewhere down (or up) the line? Or is it that you never knew why you were doing it and were doing so just because you were meant to do it?

And more importantly, why did this 'why' pop up at this/ that particular time? Why did it take you this long to ask yourself 'why' you were doing it? What if this 'why' had popped up long before it first did - would you have reacted differently? Would this 'why' bring out different responses from you, if it were asked at different stages in your life? In that case, 'why' is the response to this 'why' so inconsistent? Or is it because we have to respond to it that we keep supressing this 'why'? And why do we not want to respond - are we afraid that in responding to this 'why', we would throw things out of order?

Why?

Getting Married - In the near Future

Change is the only thing that is constant in this world – everything else changes. Be it cars, cultures, traditions, human relations and – even marriages. We have an idea about how they were done in the past and how they are being done now. The following story is a hypothetical sketch about marriages in the near future.

She was pretty nervous and excited at the same time. And the delay was adding to her nervousness and excitement. Usually it took less than a millisecond to get connected to the portal – why was it almost taking a second today? Slowly she could see the image loading up – it read in bold letters – ‘Portal for Nuptial Arrangement of Indians Worldwide’. She was almost used to it by now – the logo of the portal that showed the image of the ‘sacred’ knot over the ‘havan’ (her mom had told her that it stood for the sacred fire) was engraved in her mind. She was swamped with ‘responses’ to her profile – it has become such a nuisance that she was hardly able to drive peacefully these days. Every now and then the-now-all-too-familiar ‘You’ve got a Proposal’ message would flash on the in-built computer console in her car along with the co-ordinates of the proposal and a request for video linking. She’d ignored all those requests. And why shouldn’t she? She was too young, barely thirty-six and if it was not for her mom’s pestering she wouldn’t have linked her universal profile to the portal.

But the new proposal was something different altogether. And she was waiting excitedly to get the ‘deal’ finalized. At last, she was able to connect to the conference. The video-link didn’t seem to be working though – maybe it wasn’t the portal – maybe it was the car. She decided it was high time the car was changed – but let the deal go through first, she thought. “Hello”, the voice from the console said. It was a baritone voice – and it brought back memories of her latest friend. He was young, about nineteen, twenty-ish – she then realized she never bothered to ask him for his age - how funny, she thought. He was well built, was a passionate lover and a great poet - in fact, he’d written a few romantic poems for her – how sweet, but who cared about them when she had to pay for all their ‘trysts’!! Oh well, I’ll have to concentrate on the ‘task’ at hand – lest the deal slips through, she thought, while pondering about the man on the other end - what a sweet voice he had – he was definitely the one that she was looking for. “Oh well madam, I am really short on time, so if we can discuss the terms…”, the male voice said. Oh sure, it’s not as if I have a whole lot of time on my hands, she thought. The young guy would be waiting for her, and if this deal went through she would have to bid him farewell today – poor chap, she thought. “Yeah sure”, she replied and continued, “To be honest, your voice belies your age – if I’ve looked at the right profile, I ought to be speaking to someone on the wrong side of sixty – and you sound as if you are a thirty something!!”.

There was a pause on the other end and the male voice continued, “To return the compliment madam, you hardly look like a thirty something. Anyone could easily mistake you for a twenty something old”. She blushed. Oh well, at least he was able to see her. And she’d heard the compliment from so many of her ‘friends’ – no wonder I have so many young friends she thought. The male voice interrupted her, “But madam, I AM thirty-something. I am my client’s representative. I should have clarified earlier. But I thought the portal presented a two-way video conference. Anyway, my client is on an overseas business trip, and he sends you his apologies for not being able to negotiate the proposal personally.” Oh, so much for the baritone she thought, before regaining her composure, “Oh, that’s all right. It’s my mistake actually. For some reason the video link is not being relayed in my car. Well, lets talk about the terms then, since I am getting late for a ‘business’ meeting too”, she said before realizing that she was hardly dressed for a business meeting – would this ‘broker’ guy find out? “Oh sure madam. As you know from my client’s universal profile, he is sixty seven years old, has been married thrice earlier, and has recently divorced from his last wife”, well tell me something new she thought, “He has three sons, aged twelve, eighteen and twenty two from his previous marriages”, hmm, eighteen and twenty-two, interesting, she thought. “He has varied business interests all around the world”, now this is getting interesting, will he get into the details, she wondered.

“He is a honorary citizen of all the G10 countries, has large estates spread over thousands of acres in all the continents, is one of the very few to have an ice castle in Antarctica and his net worth runs into several billions of Euros”. She couldn’t contain her excitement. Not for nothing had her mother insisted on seeing this proposal. She tried to remain calm and was worried if her face had given away her excitement. She remembered what her mother had said – ‘never give in easily – squeeze everything out of the deal.’ Trying hard to contain her excitement she asked hesitatingly, “And the severance package?”. There was an inordinate pause– more than a second had passed and there was no response from the other end. Had she popped the question too early? She began cursing her over-zealousness. And before she could start cursing herself further, the male voice answered, “Madam, I am glad you brought it up. Although I cannot give you the exact figure, from my previous experience, I can tell you that the net worth of the package, in case of a divorce, will run into a few hundred million euros. Of course, this is besides the share in some of my client’s business interests and some estates in a few countries.” She was dumbstruck on hearing this. She had never been gladder about following her mom’s advice. The wily old fox did live up to her reputation. While she was lost in her thoughts, the male voice said, “Is there a problem with the terms madam? Not what you were expecting?”. She was suddenly awake – are you kidding man, she thought.

“I very much agree to the terms. I think I like the proposal”, she said, trying to put up a poker face. “So, do you want me to fax the contract”, the male voice said. Oh no, not so soon, she thought. What if mom wanted me to re-negotiate some of the terms? What if she is not happy with the severance package? Thinking so, she said, “I would like some time to go over the proposal. I will have to discuss with my parents, without whose consent I cannot go ahead (she wanted to add about her traditional up-bringing, her god-fearing nature – her mother had told her mention about them under any circumstance – but decided that was not needed. The deal was in her court now!!)”. The male voice replied sharply, “Madam, I know I am not qualified enough to advice you, but I want to warn you that even while you are thinking, he may come to an agreement with another bride”. The words struck her, and immediately she said, “That’s true. In that case I agree. Please fax the contract right away.”. “Oh that’s great. I’ll do that right away. My client’s lawyer has all the required forms ready. And we have booked today’s 10 pm slot for the online marriage facility on the portal. Please make sure that you are accompanied by your lawyer. It would leave a good impression on the press if your parents can accompany you. I am sure you are aware that the video linking has to be two sided for the marriage to be considered legal. My client will be accompanied by his eldest son.” Oh gosh, 10 pm she thought. Poor guy, I’d promised him the whole night. Oh well, he’ll have to be content with just a few hours – his last hours with me, and did he say his eldest son was going to accompany his client (my soon to be husband) – thinking so, she giggled. She’ll have to get the lawyer ready, but he was a good 'friend’ of hers and he would surely spare some time for her in spite of his busy schedule.

“Awwww…that sounds wonderful. Those are the sweetest words I’ve heard in my whole life”, she said while looking at the fax machine in her car receiving the contract papers. “Hope you’ve received the contract papers, madam. Please send them at the earliest. Any other questions madam?”, the broker said. “Oh no, nothing else. I’ll have to get ready for the wedding. I just wonder if I have enough time to get everything set by the wedding time. And don’t worry, I’ll fax the papers to you immediately. Thank you for all the help”. “In case its too tight for you, do you want me to reschedule the wedding”, the man said. Gosh No!!, she thought. It was high time she got rid of her old car, her old friends, most of all her enormous debt – it was high time she started a fresh life – and what better way than this. “Oh no. That’s not a problem at all. You see I am getting married for the first time. And so I am all excited – it’s a girl thing, you wouldn’t understand”, she said. “Well madam, in that case, I’ll take off. In case I am not handling a case tonight, I’ll try to make it to your wedding. Good luck.”, the man said, before signing off. She felt so lucky today. Her mom had always told her she was a blessed child and that she would inherit a fortune some day. She had ‘worked’ real hard to get here. And of course she was thankful to god for showering such a good fortune on her. One of her friends had told her about a certain portal for Indian gods – she would visit it today and do an online pooja. She told the computer to book a slot for her around 8 pm today and send a reminder to her mobile phone. It was nearly 3 pm and she was running late – poor chap, she thought – hope he hasn’t been waiting too long.

So dear reader, was I too critical in my views about marriages in the future? – Well, only time would tell. Roses, sweet nothings, romantic odes and love letters – all that is far far away. To steal glances at your loved one, to listen to her sweet voice and to long for her simple touch – all these are archaic and outmoded. Everything changes.

(Inspired by a short story by Anton Chekov)

Of Cranes, Humans and Hypocrisy

When I saw some of my friends on Orkut list ‘hypocrisy’ as one of their turn-off’s, I began to think of the Cranes. Yes, the Cranes. (Not the machines. The birds – the birds with the long necks.) The Cranes that I visited at the International Crane Foundation in Baraboo, Wisconsin.

I was extremely reluctant (as ever, with my whole hearted opposition to every new thing that comes up) to visit ICF. But since the majority of my trip-mates (if that’s what you’d call a bunch of guys that meet for the first time and make a trip together) were up for it, I decided to tag along with them. Before we visited the cranes in the area, we were shown a small movie about the history of cranes. It was very enlightening – years ago, these cranes inhabited thousands of acres of lakes, marshes and other land and water bodies. Over the years as humans began to evolve and expand, they ate into the abode of these cranes. Industrialization, human growth, expansive factories, expensive houses, extensive play grounds and most of all the excessive needs of the humans – all these led to the extinction of several species of cranes. Suddenly we humans began to realize this reality and classified most species of these cranes as ‘endangered’. And then we built sanctuaries -on a few acres of land. With a certain square foot by square foot of ‘area’ (read cage) allotted for each species of these ‘endangered’ cranes - an area where a male and female of the species are put together and forced to breed. And when they do breed, the eggs that they lay are taken away from them (and replaced with ‘dummies’ – such kind hearted humans we are – we don’t want the cranes to get hurt!) – for some kind of stupid research or for the so called re-introduction in to the wild (and where is this wilderness?). And of course there is the (completely unnatural) cross-breeding of these crane species that we humans experiment with (in our quest to find the ‘perfect’ crane species I guess – so that the same kind of thing can be done with humans – part of evolution, eh?).

While engulfed in this thought process when visiting these cranes, I suddenly realized that we humans haven’t done this with just these helpless cranes. Then I remembered that the white man slaughtered, massacred, butchered and drove most of his ‘brown’/ ‘red’ brethren to extinction. And today, the same white man is the harbinger of human equality and democracy – and of course he has assigned special regions (agency areas), instituted committees, setup memorials and built museums in memory of the native people. How considerate!! Exterminate the majority first, and emancipate the residual later! And then I began to wonder – why stop at the white man? Don’t all of us humans do this? Preach things we don’t ever practice? Do things that are completely contradictory to what we propose/ preach? Speak grandiosely about magnanimity and honesty, while waiting with a bated breath to cheat and back-stab each other- and when we fail/ succeed in doing so, call the other person a ‘hypocrite’?

Maybe this is the secret of the evolution and expansion of us humans. Maybe this is what the Darwin theory is all about – survival of the fittest – and of the heartless.

PS: This article has not been written to condemn the activities of the ICF – in fact the foundation is to be appreciated for its efforts to preserve the cranes. This article is more of a reflection of what we humans are, of the harm we have caused to the other inhabitants of this beautiful planet and of how our greed is driving us towards our own extinction. The volunteers and employees of ICF are an example of the goodness that still remains in us humans – people like me that write senseless articles and those like you that read this for passing your time ought to learn from them. If not learn, the least we can do is donate to their noble cause.

Forgetting...

I wish my memory would fail me. I wish I was forgetful. I wish I had a strain of Alzheimer’s. Never did I feel that forgetfulness could be such a virtue – and that a strong memory could be such a vice. Imagine being tied to a pole at the center of a busy crossroad – with vehicles ramming you from all four sides.

No one to run away from, nowhere to run to, no one to run towards and no place to go. Just you. Just there.

Standing right there, getting rammed. Swap the vehicles with your memories – memories of the past, memories about forgotten faces, forcefully forgotten people, forgiven people, sworn enemies, sweet relationships that turned sour, relations that were nipped in the bud, relations that never happened, relations that were never meant to be, bitter people, sweet people, uneventful events, eventful happenings, dark places, and cheerful faces. Nothing to stop any of these from flowing – just getting rammed.

A sea of thoughts, an ocean of imagination - a deadly combination. I wish I could switch off the mind for a minute second. Stop the thoughts in their tracks. I wish I could close my eyes and all that I would see is darkness. Peace. Solitude. An empty slate. With nothing on it. Nothing to be written. A new story. A new life. I wish I could forget.

A Tribute to Mr. Vishveswara Rao

Having been bitching too much about life of late, I began to wonder if there was anyone I wouldn’t be complaining about. The list was indeed short (very short) - and to my surprise I found myself listing Mr. Vishveswara Rao’s name. And then I began to wonder if I had ever thanked him enough for all the things he had done to me – for the change he had brought about in me. That led to another series of thoughts – have I ever thanked any of those that had made it to the list? Or have I ever done anything for them as a token of appreciation? And before I digress further, here is a short tribute to the man who’d driven away the fear of Math from my mind, who’d taught me to believe in my abilities and have faith in myself when everything was falling apart and everyone was against me. Not that he had lectured me about all these things, about the ways of life – the only meetings were in the Math class and in the tuitions after college. Come to think of it, his classes were one of the very few things in life that I’d always looked forward to. I’d wait to get lost in the world of trigonometry, calculus, differentials, integrals (who’d forget the third integral?) – I wish I’d put better use to all the things he’d taught me (rather than sitting before a computer and writing reams of meaningless code). Who could forget his anger – I’d shudder when I saw him hit those ‘tough’ guys in class – they’d look so meek before him!! Fortunately I was always spared from his angry moods – and how could I forget his flirting with the girls – one dumb answer from one of them and she’d immediately become a ‘cheeku lakshmi’ (have always wondered what that meant, sometimes wondered if that was something derogatory, but could never attribute such a thing to someone like him). The evening tuitions were something I’d always cherish – besides the wonderful classes, I’d also get to see some good girls ;-)!!!

I’d never met him after college – I’ve always wondered why I never had the courage to step into the college and walk into the principal’s room to meet him. He’d always spoken well about me, helped me, and yet there was some kind of fear that had always stopped me. The last I heard about him he had some trouble with his heart (talk about ironies of life – someone that I’d always thought had a mighty heart) and had to give up his rights over the college in the face of increasing commercialism and competition. I wish I’d met him the last time I was in India and passed through the college – I’d looked at it and all the memories came rushing to my mind. And yet, I never stopped. I am not sure if I’d ever meet him again – if I’d have a chance to thank him. I know that this cannot make up for all my cowardice and hesitation, but here is what I have to say – Thank you Mr. Vishveswara Rao.

Ticket to Chicago: 200$; Canceled Flight at Detroit + Sleepless night in a cheap hotel: 60$; Meeting your friends after 10 yrs: Priceless

That pretty much sums my feelings when I met my school friends for the first time in a decade. Well, alright, it wasn’t all of them that I was meeting after 10 years – I’ve always been in touch with Sarath and had met Ravi this summer, but for the first time in a decade we (12 guys supposedly) were coming together under one roof (Sarath’s, that is). And okay, only half (7 actually) of the expected people turned up (Passing thought: Why is it that when everything seems to be going in our tide, something unexpected happens, and everything goes awry – I am talking about the weather in Chicago on Friday the 10^th – well, if it were the 13^th then maybe I wouldn’t have given it a damn. For over a month we were having all the telephone conferences about the meet, what we would talk, if we would even talk as freely as we did over the phone, would it be okay to invite the gals, and if they turned up who would talk to them first – sounds childish, but then we were going back to our childhood days – that was what the meet was all about) – but it was surely a trip to remember.

Kanthri (err…Kranthi) hadn’t changed much – and I didn’t expect him to either. Varun was a revelation – I don’t remember having talked to him much at school, but for some reason we hit off – and have I come across anyone with a subtler comic timing? It was good to see Jayanth after a while, and yeah, finally I managed to hear his love story in the first person perspective. I don’t remember interacting a lot with Siva in school, but he turned out to be the chief jester and hence the life of the party. Ravi was cool as usual (must thank him for putting up with my nonsense – hardly let him sleep!!) – and well how can I forget the host, Sarath (at the end of the day, we concluded that he was more worried about the carpet in his house and the noise that we guys were making, than about the meet itself – but who cares, we had a great time, created a ruckus, dirtied his house and I managed to spill some coke on his carpet too ;-)).

Coming to the conversations, we started off with some polite talk, loosened after a few beers and as expected the conversation veered towards gals, teachers and crushes!! Some of them were surprised at my crush list, while others wouldn’t believe that I was still single. Well, at the end of the night (if that’s what you’d call 5 in the morning to be), the beer started taking its toll and before I knew, I was in the midst of a snoring contest. As I fell asleep, I wondered how often would one get to see such a scene – seven guys, in their mid – to – late twenties, some of them soon to be married, sleeping peacefully with their backs against one another in a room filled not with air, but with nostalgia. As each of us took the flight home the next day, each in a different direction, we promised that we’d get back – maybe the coming summer, and that we’d have a much larger group then – and I am sure the others would have known in their hearts, as I did, how hard that was going to be.

As I was sitting in the flight, waiting for it to take off, I wondered if I was as strong and as controlled as I’d always thought myself to be – something was beating too fast and something else was wandering off in a different direction than I wanted it to take. As everyone else, I consoled myself that I had to move on with life, that change was inevitable, that we’d surely meet another day (maybe I’d get to see the gals then?) – after all, there’s so much life left to live.