Dodging the Creative Leech In A Digital Age

As an eighth grader, I hated writing essays, especially the ones that asked me to expound on an archaic social theory, chock full of bizarre ideas, that seem as superfluous in present age as dial-up Internet access. Every take-home essay assignment on a Friday sat sulking in the nook of my study until it was stared at, shoved back under, and hastily brought back to surface on a Sunday evening. That’s when the bells of despair rang. The essay topic was clumsily moulded into a perfectly acceptable five-paragraph structure of cliches, paraphrases and cataclysmic arguments, unfortunately the tepid force of it all failing to rustle even a leaf in the world of literary debates. I didn't see the point of that whole ritual of forced writing. My English teacher, whom I both admired and avoided, rarely marked my assignments with anything other than “Good effort”, “Can do better” or “Work harder”.

And one uninspired weekend, I thought instead of fuming up my brain cells in the pressure cooker of my mind, I’d climb out of my languid mental landscape and find “inspiration” elsewhere. Since it was the pre-internet era, inspiration didn't come easy. I’d have to wear sneakers. I went to a senior’s house who was a Whiz at organizing ideas and making her words seem important and clever. I asked her for her thoughts on the subject of Capitalism vs Socialism. And help she did! She taught me how to draw up a convincing argument, cited examples from the Bible, quoted verses even. It was the best essay I had ever produced, the metaphors so far-reaching and profound. I was pretty damn proud of my work. Of course, it didn’t occur to my underfed ego that it was my friend’s work. Pfff! She just gave me a nudge, so to speak. I chartered that damn path on my own. I submitted my essay with a word of note to the teacher saying that I’d put my heart and soul into this one. As I anxiously waited for my essay to come back, after daydreaming at length about wide appreciation and applause, somewhere I found in myself a scratchy realization. I asked myself, “Would I have co-related examples from the Bible to socialism on my own?” “Is that what I really thought? Socialism trumps capitalism?” I warded off these as writer’s remorse and continued basking in the pre-glow of anticipatory fame. Like a delicate bowel that reveals itself one way or another, my moral compass soon rose above delusions. My essay was returned ungraded with the hissing words, “See Me!”. I knew only too well the indictment that I was up against but had little to prepare for in my defence. The teacher called me to her office, gave me tea and biscuits. I sat there mindlessly, tracing jagged speed bumpers out of cookie crumbs to intercept the zipping motion of my honour.

I don’t recall what I felt at the time or each time when someone looked at my work and said it lacked originality except a jarring pang of shame. I have to say that as a writer who loves reading and one who is rather easily-impressed, I find it difficult to block out the beauty of words that threaten to cling to me with a permanent sticking charm, impossible to unfasten. Maybe some of these words found their way back into form in my writing. If done deliberately, with bonus adjectives and adverbs to masquerade as my own. Maybe, sometimes I had no damn clue what to say and in the process of working out how to get my factory up and running, I looked at what other people have already said. It was funny how much their thoughts resonated with what I wanted to say. And I couldn't help myself but cloak their words in a new robe.

Anyway, with so many people writing these days, the odds of two people saying the same thing had to be in my favour right? I turned to my non-judgemental search engine for an answer. A renowned linguist had already put that theory to test. So get this. Each time you use a word from an existing string of words already written by an author, the odds drop by a fairly large number. So the chances that two people would have unknowingly used the exact string of eight-nine words in a sentence (well unless it’s a popular saying) are fairly low, if not none. Put those words from the two sentences in a similar context, in a similar format and you really are pushing your luck there. If caught, the only thing that’d get you out of that one are the widely-underrated quotation marks. In their absence, you may try the words, “Wow, what an uncanny coincidence!”

I started getting my writings published several years ago. In my writing stint with a magazine, I was given a starting prompt, guidelines on how to cite sources of my findings, quote important people, gather data, ask questions… My first writing test involved, as one of the five key skills I was expected to be armed with, looking at a passage and paraphrasing it. It made me think, “ So what I am really doing is borrowing words from various intellectual pools and structuring them.” I felt a little cheated, kind of like being stripped off my own creative capacity. And that river of reinvented and recycled thoughts continued to pull me under when I started writing for myself. Instead of sitting and staring at my blank screen, I opened another tab. It was intoxicating.

Until one day, I just stopped. It wasn't because my moral compass was pointing due North. I found myself getting confused and intimidated by other people’s writing. Instead, I read books, enjoying the light breeziness of flowery prose in that moment without highlighting them for days when I run short of inspiration. I sat in a quaint, no-wifi cafe with my laptop, with only dull murmurs and the smell of hazelnut latte as my creative fuel, staring at my blank screen, not knowing which direction I’d run in my labyrinth of thoughts, whether I’d move ever at all. I rose to the challenge of finding myself in my words, even though they were not half as alluring as those of my writer idols.

Sometimes on Medium, I stumble upon a story or a poem like mine and I wonder, “How did that ever happen?” What are the chances that two obscure unconnected writers would find the same, seemingly original idea to write about nearly around the same time, especially when the inception of the idea is not based on the current state of affairs? It is then that I think there are greater cosmic forces at work. The world around us is both our writing pad and our writing prompt. And we’re probably connected in more ways than the wide tangles of the internet. For me, as someone who has previously stolen other people’s thoughts to define my own, there is but one thing that defines the delicate line between plagiarism and originality.

It is the scathing voice you hear after you have finished publishing your work.

Well, here’s to hoping that in the wide world of me-toos and already-done-thats, one day, my own work will shine through. Untainted.

We Have A Map Of The Piano

When it comes to music, I think all of us have a map in our hearts for plucking the songs that speak to us and the ones we send back into planet oblivion. For some people, it’s about the bass or the guitar strings that make the heartbeat of the song. Others look for the help of words to define the soundtrack to whatever marks the theme of their lives — the rush of new love or heartbreak, prosperity or decline, melancholy or exhilaration, death or life. Music sometimes finds its way to trace our roots, our lineage, our individuality and sometimes it is just a bump on a long road to getting to our identity — as something we’d never confess in public to have liked. (Grand Confession: I am still rooting for Dido’s come-back.)

And yet, when I think of what defines my carefully-curated, indispensable playlist , one that I've been listening to for what seems like an eternity, I'm stumped. There was a time when I ditched it for months at a stretch, living off borrowed music from my husband and friends, well until I heard something as shadowy as Muse’s Starlight play in a cafe at sunset which made me go, “Wow…I do miss my playlist.” My collection of music is eclectic, mostly R&B, indie, Sufi songs, electronic and alternative rock. These songs have been transferred from desktops to laptops to phone memory, synced to death… Jogging without my playlist is an ordeal, an uphill climb.

As an experiment, I decided to go without it for a while, opening my ears to new artists, unexplored roads and shoreless depths of sounds and moods. As a result, I watched my playlist grow and expand, ushering in new artists I’d never heard before like Arctic Monkeys, Interpol, Sona Mohapatra, Gurdas Maan…

But it goes without saying that my old playlist had already grown on me and could not be done away with.

Regardless of what’s mainstream or crowd-pulling, we all go through our own evolution in music. There are your all-time go-to jams and there is that music we grow out of — you know the kind you played to insanity in the backdrop of Math sessions and midnight conversations and that, perhaps, are definitive of a phase that you've let go. There is that music that profiles you. “Babe, don’t mind me saying this but your songs…they’re just so angry! Are you going through something?” Then, there are songs that you hate just cos you’re forced to listen to them with family and friends and every time you hear them, you wince a little. (I don’t think I can ever hear a Boney M song without pulling a face.) And then let’s not forget there are those songs and artists that you ignored on principle. But you end up accidentally hearing them on the radio and you can’t help but sing them in the shower, being sucked into the quicksand of their rage and popularity. [ “Is it too late now to say sorry?”]

I like the idea of having a constant playlist — of course it’s one that I’d never play at a party or in any gathering, for I know nobody would understand it. These songs probably didn't enjoy the same glory that songs today attract. Playlists today have a shorter shelf-life I think. If you get to hear that one song fresh out of the studio, chances are that you’ll join the millions of people screaming from the rooftops about it, share videos on social media… They’ll make for water-cooler conversations. They’ll pass through several filters, including the most-popular feminist filter, before it gets ingrained into pop culture. You’ll hear that one song in everybody’s playlist along with the noise surrounding it, until everyone tires of it and it vanishes altogether to be replaced by another scintillating chart buster.

My playlist, however, is in a fairly equitable ratio of greatest hits and obscure songs, equal parts hippy-happy and permission-to-bawl-your-eyes-out gloomy. I have no clue how I arrived at it and from where I hand-picked these songs. Maybe I didn't pick these songs after all. Their ratings picked it. Maybe, I hopped from one artist to the other with Amazon’s “You may also like….”. It’s also possible that I added some songs that I heard on my favourite shows as a way to retain their best moments with me. (Case in point: Grey’s Anatomy, One Tree Hill.) Perhaps I read a reference to a song in a novel and wanted to listen to it and it just stuck. Maybe, one day, I was on my way back home waiting in the bus-shelter for the rain to stop when a cute guy came by, smiled at me, and stood close enough for me to vaguely make out the words of the song playing on his Ipod. And it became a part of my playlist. It may as well have been made up of some of those songs that got circulated at the office. (Did someone say American Pie?)

There is no way of knowing what really makes up our playlists. But the taste of it, perhaps in all its nostalgia, is so sweet that there’s no running away from it. I may ignore them for a while in a ruse to class up my taste in music, to find the same rush and familiarity in new artists, but every time I come back to it, I fall in love all over again.

It goes without saying that we all have a map of the piano and nobody can take it away from us.

Do you update your playlist occasionally? Or do you take comfort in listening to the same songs over and over again? Can you figure out which songs make you tick instantly? I'd love to hear from you, readers.

Why I Think Mad Men Was The Greatest Period Fiction On Television

I LOVE period fiction! When it comes to the Victorian era, there’s something about the refined sensibilities, sexual restraint, opulent balls and soirées, and the elaborate courtship that both fascinates and eludes me. Not to mention the fashion was to die for! (Wonder if anyone actually died from wearing a Victorian corset though.) On the other extreme is the frivolous and exciting Jazz Age of America that carried me away , also thanks to my maniacal love for the Fitzgeralds. Money in the 20s America never seemed to be in question and young couples couldn't help themselves but break free — they caroused drunkenly in smokey nightclubs and swayed outrageously in dance forms that, they say, “could not be described without a deep blush.”
And then I stumbled upon the American 60s, quite by accident. As I was scanning channels, I was intrigued by a dialogue between this demigod-like, potently charming man and a somewhat mismatched woman.

"What do women want? You know better that to ask. Give me a pen."
"What do women want? Any excuse to get closer."

The delicious gentleman is, of course, the legendary anti-hero of “Mad Men”, Don Draper. And the woman is, no offence, inconsequential (Most “Mad Men” viewers would agree) as every one of Don Draper’s flighty love interests. That line was to be used as a slogan for Right Guard, a deodorant. I was appalled at the sexism at first. Then again, it belonged to the 60s. But in truth, in the department of deodorant advertising, I can’t say we've come a long way from retrograde, in-your-face sexism. (Psst, Axe Effect copy people: Your deodorant may smell good but it doesn't make me lurk around the street in a fit to devour men turning from white to “chocolate”.)

Anyway, I've winced every now at the in-your-face sexism on the show that kinda felt like peeling layers and layers of a strong onion. Even so, I got totally jazzed about seeing every episode of this poignant projection of the 60s through the glossy and volatile Madison Avenue mise-en-scene of the era — from the piling ashes of cigarettes, the unflinching binge-drinking to flared dresses, heels and razor-sharp suits. Mad Men didn't just offer its viewers the glamorous, high-luxe and sexy visual landscape of Manhattan’s sharpest ad executives but it also served to capture flawlessly the accelerated cultural and historical transition of the pre-feminist era and all the highs, not to mention anxieties, that came with it.

Image Source: AMC

With each season, I found myself intoxicated by the characters’ moral complexities and dwelling on the key themes of the show such as feminism, existentialism, drugs, happiness, and freedom. It’s a cult show in many ways for its sensibilities are far beyond the mediocre middlebrow drama that plagues television these days. Not that I'm complaining. (Television’s a big chunk of my life right now.) The only criticism that I've heard about the show is from my dedicated “Mad Men” companion — that all they do on the show is drink, smoke and cheat. (And there was another contemplative observation about the unrealistic proportions of Joan’s anatomy.) But in their defence, they read too. You’d witness the women employees of Sterling Cooper furtively circulating an unabridged copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover while also forbidding one another to carry it on the subway, or Don Draper reciting the final verses of Frank O’Hara’s Meditations in an Emergency, or even Bert Cooper’s adulation for Atlas Shrugged. And let’s face it; it was a free-wheeling industry and, as someone said, sexism (and sex) was rampant at that time so what else will we have?

There’s been a lot said about “Mad Men” and, undoubtedly, it has sparked off a lot of literary discussions and diversions, especially on the subject of existentialism. We all know now the man who craftily creates an alluring perception of brands in the minds of mass consumers has, in fact, fabricated a web of illusions around his identity as well. With each season, we ask ourselves, “Who is Don Draper?” Yes, now we know he’s Dick Whitman, born out of an illicit relationship of a modest Illinois farmer and a prostitute. But whatever be his questionable background, it is Draper’s lab experiments with his soul and his complex inner world that make him a remarkable feat of fiction. In Don Draper, we see a commitment phobe perfectly disembodied from his domestic reality, an escapist who flees miles away from any shot at happiness and yet, also a traditionalist yearning for the stability of a perfect suburban home with doting kids and an eager-to-please wife. So you see him screwing around with his best friend’s wife and reflecting in the form of a New Year wish, “I want to stop doing this.” Somehow, it is this distance from reality and his perennial struggle to reconcile morals with desires that makes his character familiar and mysteriously affable. (Let’s admit it girls. We all swoon over him.)

However, over the seasons, I have to say, Don’s characteristic jitteriness had become a little predictable. I mean, it became easy to see that whenever his gal starts having a mind of her own, which obviously does nothing for his inflated sense of self, she starts losing him. (Case in point: Megan, the boho girl from Season 1).

The more consistently powerful arc to the show for me is Peggy and her struggle to break through in a blatant man’s world where her first meek attempt at copywriting is observed by Freddy Rumsey as “ It’s like watching a dog play the piano.” And through the end of the show, we see her as a powerhouse copy chief giving the patriarchs of the ad world a run for their money. You go girl!

And with the fated transition of Peggy taking over Don’s chair in the final season, with that lasting image of Peggy Olson sitting behind Don’s desk, we see her emerge as the boss lady who will finally “have decisions to make”, even though her personal life had been an out-of-control wreck. Truly, Weiner has a way of giving us hope. Hope for all the women of Mad Men to be liberated from the clutches of suppression, despite the fact that it made the men of that time very uncomfortable.  Hope for atonement for Don who, after an emotionally derailed self-revelation at the Hershey pitch ( which in effect destroys the pitch), continues to unravel to his estranged daughter, his true, broken-down, whore-house childhood. As far as Don Draper is concerned, the final season marks the end of his frenzied escapist sport stemming from boredom and restlessness that the show played on so well . Mad Men’s finale revealed to its viewers that as much as the show took us on a wild ride of a man’s misadventures, it also served as a cautionary fable elucidating the gradual downward spiral of a narcissistic phony from his joy ride of excessive wealth and egotism.

Image Source: AMC

And as all cautionary fables go, for me the biggest charm of the show is that it reveals to each one of us as its viewers, our follies, our bad decisions, through a smoke-tinted glass, as a time and place that we’re glad to have let go but looms over us with a haunting familiarity.

Through the Spooky Looking-Glass - And What You Could Find There

I find it extremely annoying when I'm roused from a deep slumber in the middle of the night. Obviously, I want to have someone or something to "ptchhh" at before I crawl back to my nightly neverland. But last night was weird. You see, I don't quite know what woke me up. I don't remember hearing a sound, whether it was as light as paper rustling or as noisy as the clatter of a midnight snack's sneaky construction. It wasn't a bad dream for I don't remember dreaming. It wasn't even a subconscious, maternal sense of Saanvi falling off the bed, for she was sound asleep.

And then it hit me. That strange, inexplicable, deeply unsettling feeling of a presence that you can't quite grasp, shining a torch on my darkest fears. For you don't know what lies ahead of you, and you sure can't go back to sleep. Suddenly, I get this urge to go to the bathroom. No, it's not a biological one. You know, just to make that journey of peering into the darkness, look at my reflection, double-check if there's any blood coming out of nose (or flies climbing into my mouth) or worse, an ominous presence lurking right behind my shoulders. With my heart racing, I head to the bathroom. I nervously fidget for the switch in the crippling darkness. Warm lights try to appease my discomfort, or maybe fool me into walking in. I stand at the entrance, the ominous air whisking across my face, arresting me right at the door. Like all slasher movie protagonists who are too zoned out on pills to say hello to logic, I go against my instincts and step right in. I survey the surroundings. Nothing in sight. I peer down the toilet seat. Nope, no waxy fingers climbing out. Lastly, I stare at myself in the mirror. Sure, I'm sporting my post-midnight pasty bloodsucker complexion (minus the red lippy) but nothing out of the ordinary, I'd say. I'm staring at myself hard, mentally telling myself there's nothing wrong and I should now go back to sleep. But suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, for a fleeting second, I see it. Or did I? I mean I think I saw it. And there it is again!

AAAAAAhhhhhhhh!

It seemed to me like a startlingly blown up version of what I remember of it. And all this while, I was living in the false hope that it's gone forever. And yet here it was...More life-like, more invincible...And it was still that murky green, nasty form of wiggling tails and slithering slimy skin.

Fine. It was only a lizard. But OMG, lizards are my worst fear! Being trapped with them in a small space could potentially give me a stroke. Their presence is both inexplicable and unsettling. How could they possibly crawl into a home that couldn't be more unwelcoming and hostile to them? It is a real-life horror that I'm constantly trying to escape....They somehow manage to give me the chills even when existing somewhere in the unknown crevices of my kitchen....It's their small, slow-moving, silent existence that is capable of completely transforming my perfectly homey surroundings into a cold, unpleasant atmosphere of imminent danger.

Uncannily enough, for that reason, atmospheric horror is the only kind that truly gives me the spooks. A dilapidated Victorian house covered in weeds, a cob-webbed antique mirror, creaking doors, deeply disturbing salon art and everything sinister about a seemingly innocent person or the environs of a place that only reaffirm your deepest, darkest fears of peering into the unknown are the things that haunt me the most. I think, the primer before the occurrence of a supernatural event is what you take home after watching a horror movie; the suspense is what keeps you hooked on to your seat. But jump scares whether it is in the form of creepy girl ghosts, strange beasts in the shadows or gory-masked slashers...while they may have you modulating like Julia Child at the spur of the moment but with time, they slip from your memory. The atmosphere is what gives any horror movie its spine-chilling potential and unnerving quality.

So here's my list of kickass horror movies that'll stay with you for days, have you requesting an escort service for your post-midnight bathroom trips, dodging eye-contact with your reflection or making soap opera endings of mundane events, including going to your room to fetch a towel by yourself.

1. The Innocents (1961):

First of all, let me just say this is such a beautiful movie! But maybe a small disclaimer. If you've been through the whole catalog of horrors and don't really flinch much to skeletons dropping in the dark at horror houses, this is not for you. I love it for the eerie, sinister atmosphere in monochrome; the old Victorian mansion, dark hallways, beautiful camera depictions of spectral presence in daylight and night-time apparitions on French windows. Add to that a weird governess of two delightful kids who can't quite make up their mind if they're representatives of the angel or demon. Maybe there is possession. Maybe there is not. But then there's more to all three of them that meets the eye. Well, maybe I shouldn't say any more.

2. The Orphanage (2007):

Speaking of creepy children, The Spanish film Orphanage masterfully sets a tense atmosphere of vulnerability through a lady in her mid-thirties returning back to her roots - her childhood foster home, now a creepily desolate remnant of its past glory. She brings her husband and newly adopted child along so that she can turn it around to a home catering to children with learning difficulties. But Simon, her adopted son, has a thing for imaginary friends. One of them mysteriously leads him away from his family for an extended period, following which an agonizing search begins. The search operation only makes us delve deeper and deeper into the horrors of the house, without any sign of Simon.
Caution: The jump scares in this movie will send ice cubes down your spine.
This ghost story, set in what looks like a chapel in shambles, empowered by creepy children games leading to secret basements and attics, and the melancholic theme of separation from loved ones renders it as one of the best horror movies I've ever seen, probably one that I wouldn't venture to watch again.

3. Repulsion (1965):

If you're a believer in love at first sight, maybe not such a good idea to watch this Roman Polanski spine-chilling psychological thriller. For this one is terribly convincing. Catherine Deneuve plays an evocatively beautiful, reserved woman who lives with her philandering sister in a small uptown apartment. Her sister's fling with a married man is a constant source of disgust to her, but we don't know the extent of her repulsion to proximity with the opposite sex, until an eligible bachelor comes along and vies for her attention. Now probably this man is a decent one and exactly what she needs. But her mind's clouded with all sorts of repugnant ideas, something that takes the form of an extreme form of paronoia. The chilly atmosphere created here is in the mind of this outwardly shy, harmless woman. To be subject to the hallucinations and nightmares of her warped existence is the scariest thing that I've ever witnessed in a movie. By the end of the movie, I could literally see the cracks on the wall and feel things crawling on my body. Yikes!

4. The Conjuring (2013):

Everyone I know has seen this movie, including 12-year olds, and we all agree it is nightmarishly scary in parts. I recall being scared of clapping my hands for the longest time after watching this movie. Sure it has the usual suspects - an Amityville-ish deserted house and a violent ghost shutting down clocks and banging doors shut. There are the usual spookies, creepies and inexplicable bump bumps.. But the shocks, some of them completely absurd, are so powerful that it'll have you not wanting to fall asleep at all....or appointing a night-time guard for your feet.

5. The Devil's Backbone (2001):

They just don't infuse drama with horror the way the Spanish do! This is another one based in an isolated boarding school brooding with the tragedy of lone corridors and orphaned sons of Republicans. It shows us a historical perspective of the Spanish civil war through the eyes of a young boy, not old enough to understand political calamities.  It's 1939 and in the middle of the school courtyard sits an unexploded Fascist bomb, symbolic of the state of limbo that Spain was in and the doom that was to follow. But the dark corridors of the school and the near-empty closets reveal to us much more than the imminent tragedy looming over them. A haunting of a former-child resident, the villainy of the snaky caretaker, and the layers of dark fears that the boy is both curious to uncover and terrified to find out, make this film a hauntingly melodramatic horror.

6. The Shining (1980):

A gloomy isolated hotel. Bleaky winter days. A dysfunctional family, led by a deranged alcoholic who declares his cold, unappealing abode as "Cosy"! And there's nobody else for company. Naturally, things will go awry. And how? The house takes its own sweet time to unravel empty rooms with ghostly apparitions, ominously vacant corridors turning the corner to reveal elevators filled with blood. And then, you have a man driven to destroy his small family for no rhyme or reason, except his hypnotic surroundings. This is one hair-raising tale, incidentally based on Stephen King's novel.
The last scene of the movie still haunts me. That chilling smile of Jack Torrance, impossibly captured in a picture, taken sixty years before the period that the movie is set in... I still don't get it.

7. The Haunting (1963):

This is a good old-fashioned haunted house chiller. The plot is a conventional one, something that's probably been used by one too many horror movies we know of. A bunch of stereotypical guests are cordially invited to spend a few days at an idyllic old mansion. But things are not as they seem. OK, I see you yawning. But get this. This is a ghost story plot but ghosts are not the reason you'll get spooked out. It's the anticipation of them that'll drive you crazy till the very end. There's the possibility of a hidden secret, murder, insanity and the works. You'll see the characters hunched up together in fright listening to sounds coming from the corridors - screeches, bumps, even gun shots, and you can't help wondering about what the darkness holds. The spooky set-up of it all will give you goose-bumps without quite knowing what's causing them.

I know I'm missing a host of good horror movies in this list including the likes of Exorcist and Omen. By no means is this a list of horrors that'll have you shutting your eyes through some jolt-inspiring scenes in blind terror.

But these are movies that'll creep into your psyche without a sound and come to haunt you the next time you find yourself alone.

More outlandish or conventional horror stories to add to the list? Be my guest and write in the comments below.

The Miracle Makers - A Showdown: Part Deux

A while ago, I had attempted to lay bare some of the gimmicks that some of the oft-touted products in the Health & Beauty segment fall back on; most of them playing downright obviously at our weak and flabby knees. For all my lovely readers who missed that one, you can read it here.

I realize we're slowly inching towards that magical eve of dazzling bodycon dresses, watermelon margheritas, pigs in the sky, and whoopsy-daisies. (Perhaps ones that lead up to the hippy-happy walk of shame the next morning). Naturally, we're feeling a bit more susceptible to test-running some wonder-products all over again (even if it means being taken in by the genies on Telebrands). Sure, the pressure of looking your skinny best with that enviably glossy mane and flawless skin scales a new height towards the end of year. And yay, if that's motivating you to spend an extra 20 minutes in the gym, cut down on processed foods, load up on superfoods, and try some fat-melting, sweat-slicking power yoga, even in a steam room, if you must. But nay, if that's tending you towards popping magic weight-loss pills with processed antioxidant juices and shaking violently for a good half of your day in a massage belt strapped to your waist.

So, based on some good research and personal experiments, here's Round 2 of super-products...busted, especially for all you crash-dieters and Hair-and-Skin Santa seekers:

Take it if you will.

1. Weight-Loss Drinks:
Case Study: Herbalife

Ofcourse, this wonder shake has all the ingredients worthy of a glossy Bollywood movie - it's got all the celebrity endorsements, a fancy-pants 'slim-fast' movie script and that utopian illusion, completely disconnected from reality - the one that makes you feel like you're working your way to losing weight. Instead of a cumbersome 3-course meal, you get to relish a delectable protein shake. (Small Disclaimer: In the bargain, you may end up looking like someone who could gulp down a cow with that wholesome shake....practically all the time.)

But that's not all that's wrong with it.

Herbalife has been rich in controversy right from the beginning. The earlier version of Herbalife, before 2002, contained Ephedrine, a powerful stimulant that can stave off hunger and rapidly burn fat cells at high risks of heart disease and blood pressure problems. The Ephedrine alkaloids used in Herbalife were way beyond the prescribed limit suggested by FDA, hence Herbalife had to discontinue the use of Ephedrine in its supplements.

Does that mean it stands as toxin-free as of today? Not quite. The recent Herbalife shake formulae have abundance of caffeine, Fructose, artificial sweeteners and Soy Protein - allegedly extracted from Genetically Modified Soy (GMO), found in all Herbalife shakes (as well as in packaged tofu). GMO is known to disrupt hormonal balance in women, cause thyroid problems, and also increase risks of cervical cancer and heart disease.

Want to know more about Herbalife? Read it here.

2. The Gluten-Free Way:

"Is this gluten-free?" "How can you wear that lipstick? I mean aside from the fact that it makes you look like a drag queen, it's not gluten-free!" "Drop your cereal bar right now! You imbecile, it's got gluten!"

Gluten-free's all the rage right now, everywhere, from powder rooms to secret snack cabinets. So I had  to ask, "What is Gluten anyway?" Gluten's a protein found in wheat, barley and rye, one that gives these grains an elastic texture. The association of gluten with a high-carb diet is the reason why most people are switching to a gluten-free diet. Naturally, when you cut down carbs, you feel healthier. However, there is no scientific evidence that going gluten-free promotes weight loss. Where Gluten's actually harmful is in cases with Gluten intolerance and celiac disease, an autoimmune disorder that damages the small intestine.

I think it's essentially a good thing if you cut down on carbs by avoiding gluten-containing products such as cakes, cookies, and doughnuts. But what really happens with people who decide to go Gluten-free is that in their attempt to dodge the Gluten-ous bullet, they ingest a whole new gamut of gluten-free processed foods. Eventually, the phrase "gluten-free" ends up as another ruse to draw consumers into eating other versions of processed crap, full of xanthan gum and other food additives.

3. BB Creams and CC Creams

The longer the name, the more promises it can hold. Pore-shutting, skin clearing, UV-punching, cheek sculpting; you name it. But now they are saying no need to wipe off your makeup at night girls! Your chalky makeup meets the plump goodness of your skincare regime to create an SPF, antioxidant and vitamin packed, all-round skin treatment. Hello Blemish Balm and Color Control Creams!

Sure, the new-age Blemish Balm creams are light-wear make-up that give good coverage and are a better bet than pancakey foundations. And the steeply priced BB creams in the market (for example, a Chanel or a Bobbi Brown) do have high SPF, oil-absorbing qualities and anti-aging ingredients; some even have ground pearl and gold to add radiance to your flawless, air-brushed look. A great option for women on the run or us lazy ones, I'd say.

But do I really think that one cream, even though at a price of four, can sculpt away wrinkles, cushion hot UV blows, and firm my skin over time?

The answer's No. The visual effects of these creams vanish once they're off your skin. And the point is these creams will be applied like make-up - you only dab them where you need it, which really means you'll not put a sufficient amount of these creams to be completely covered. Hence, you'll need to layer it with a good sunscreen. Beats the purpose then, doesn't it?

Bottom Line: A sophisticated BB or CC cream may be a good day option when you want a fuss-free, air-brushed look that's meant to last but does it replace your everyday skin-care heroes? Maybe not.

4. Hair-Fall Defending Shampoos and Conditioners:

If you whispered in my ear, ever so coyly, in the middle of the night, "There's an antidote to hair loss found in a rare species of trees, growing up in the Himalayas," I would've immediately layered up, got my hiking shoes on and headed towards the mountains. Needless to say, I've tried almost every over-the-counter product that even remotely suggests reversal of hair loss. I've used countless serums, shampoos, conditioners, vitamins...

And I'm still fighting hair loss. My hair may have looked fuller and felt softer after using one of the expensive, salon-recommended formulae but it didn't really do anything to reduce hair loss. So, as much as I hate saying this, the only piece of wisdom I can give you is that there's no such thing as a hair-loss reversal shampoo and conditioner. There are a multitude of reasons for hair loss, anything from stress to low estrogen to crash diets to genetics and you can never be quite sure what's causing it. If you think your hair is falling out at an alarming rate, see a dermatologist specializing in hair loss.

And personally what's worked for me is switching to a sulphate-free or an organic shampoo and conditioner, as they're less harsh on the scalp. You may even try minoxidil as that is one of the popularly known cures to hair-loss. But be sure to consult a doctor before using it.

5.Weight-Loss Massage Belts:
I'm sure you've seen those ads.  Models with toned bodies sporting a massage belt strapped to their waist. Looking happy as hell. Why wouldn't they be? I mean all you have to do is lie on your couch, watch TV, and shake those fat cells off your body. Good vibrations right there. And anyway, it's not like you've worked your way up to gaining weight, why would you want to work all the way down? Plus who has the time to hit the gym these days.

Vibration training using an electronic stimulation device is the real deal, when done using a high-quality equipment with proper supervision and when it's supplemented with exercise. It can really help in maintaining your muscle tone. But strapping a massage belt to your waist through a Game of Thrones marathon and letting the machine do all the work for you will not only fail to deliver results but it can also cause serious injury and health problems, including hypothyroidism and hormonal imbalance.

So before you sign up for any of these fads or gimmicks, make sure you do your research. While money can buy you love, it may not necessarily buy you health and fitness.

Agree or disagree? I'd love to hear from you in the comments below.

The Miracle Makers: A Showdown - Part 1

I believe in miracles.... I really do.  But there are days when I'm feeling short of one, you know like when you're in an ordinary day lockdown and even the glories of GoT fail to inspire you to stop the ennui from creeping right back in. What do you do?

Well if you'll take my word, just hit the supermarket. No, we're not going to pay the Retail Therapist an expensive visit to stir our spirits. Instead, let's just look, shall we? I mean there are so many miracles everyday just waiting to be found. And in this case, you don't even have to try too hard. A casual stroll down the beauty aisle and there you are! Age-reversing, sun-defying, youth-revitalizing, mane-restoring, and all said adjectives in the English language.... Enough to lure you into needing a miracle, even though you were feeling pretty to begin with. And if you happen to stop momentarily to consider, a seemingly sweet saleslady, in coral lipstick and a perfectly coiffed do, will magically appear, flashing her fake eyelashes at you. A short greeting exchanged, she embarks on this unctuous routine that'll ease you into selling your soul out. Well, before showing you a tainted mirror with all your freckles, dark circles and not-so-fine lines come to life, hissing "Help Ussss!".

OK, bad idea. Let's move ahead.

You hit the food and drink aisles...More marvels beckon. Colon-happy, Oryazenol-enriched oils that lower your cholesterol, protect your heart and what the hell, you may even live longer. Low-fat nutty cereals, gluten-free snackies, slim milk, slimming teas with perky, happy women with Rihanna-like bods on the packaging, that only reaffirm that it's time to kiss those love handles goodbye. Probiotics for your guts, cereal bars for your stamina, and so many other healing food and drinks touted for giving you all the goodness of nature. And while they're at that, you just might look like the lean, mean sexy beast that you are meant to be.

But hey, that's funny. I'd say the average shopper looks more like this. (No offense, whoever you may be.)

Well, maybe they don't have a damn clue about what they're doing even when eight out of ten products are screaming at them, "Hey you forgot to take your youth... in a tiny tube", "How about those tight abs you've always craved for...in a cereal box", and "Get Cleopatra's silken tresses...in a bottle".

So it really begs the question, "Are these products, with all their tall claims that make the 'Water into Wine' miracle seem meh, really that good? We continue to be bamboozled by super-human, glossy marketing pitches, all of them that come with some sort of expert "stamp of approval". As gullible as we humble earthlings are, we fall into their trap.

But let's just take a look at some of these product hypes at face value. It's not that they're deceptive, but also ridiculously awful. I mean I'm sure they're looking for impulse purchases by tapping into their consumers' worst insecurities and selling needs that have been ingrained tactfully, without the slightest noise.

But all they manage to evoke is this.

So here's a small list of ridiculously awful product hypes, in no particular order:

1. Moisturising Body Washes:

Dove
We've all seen this bizarre commercial. Two grown-up women on the verge of a touchy-feely cat fight over what moisturises better - Milk or Dove. And just like that, they get thrown into a bath-off setting to figure out who'll have softer skin at the end of it. Yea, that's all they're trying to figure out, you dirty mind` you. But I'm not that baffled by the uncalled-for, PG-rated, borderline girl-on-girl imagery, the more pressing question is , "Who the f*** takes a soak in milk?"

Not only does it sound disgusting and wasteful but I can only imagine how pissed off that cow would be if she found out that she got udder-to-face with a man just so you can soak your flaky skin in its milk.

Moisturising body washes, however, are milder than soap so they're essentially good for you. So next time ladies, no need to buy a gallon of milk. Just get a bottle of Dove body wash. Convenient...truly.

2. Low-fat Cereals:
Kellogg's Special K - The Challenge

OK, I was kind of swayed into testing this challenge but the idea of eating it twice a day for two weeks...nope not up for it. But if it's really that good, why couldn't they use a more realistic success story in its commercial?
Instead, they show us a not-so-desperate looking Deepika Padukone. In a fight with flab!

Now, I've been following Deepika Padukone's pelvic area for a very long time. No, don't get the wrong idea. It's just to get some old-fashioned, gleaning comfort from the fact that even a skinny woman like her can occasionally sport love handles. However, I can testify in court that this woman's never had any. So what we see in the ad is a before-version of Miss Padukone in a loose tee and then an after-version of her flaunting her waist, that was flawlessly flat to begin with?
Not sold!

3. Instant Noodles:
Maggi Noodles
Taste to hai par health bhi??

Maggi noodles - a quick, deliciously versatile, comfort food with high-nostalgic value. It's on our pantry shelves, at roadside tapris, on the specials at sophisticated cafes, even in the remotest corners of the country ; so powerful is its patent masala. And apparently, they have whole-wheat options too for those who are health-conscious. But honestly, saying that it's healthy? Now that's taking it too far. You can Meri Maggi all you want and add all sorts of vegetables, eggs, tofu or even broccoli to it but the nutritional value will only be limited to your clever supplements.
Instant noodles are high in sodium, fat and carbs and just because they have very tactfully added trivial quantities of iron and calcium, it's not going to make it healthy. Kinda like saying add kale juice to your daily dose of scotch to make it liver-friendly or why don't you just lace your cigarette with eucalyptus for that persistent cough?

4. Nutrition Bars:
RiteBite

I get it. We're an on-the-run generation. There's absolutely no time to sit down for a lavish breakfast spread, let alone cook one. So, it makes sense to pick up a few nutrition bars and keep them stashed in your purse, you know, just in case the hunger pangs strike. And we've got a wealth of them - high-energy bars, protein bars, breakfast bars, diet bars, women-only bars, brain-boosting bars. Straight out of a sci-fi movie, I'd say.
These bars may make sense for athletes or for you if your first breakfast impulse is to run down to your local food stall for some greasy pakoras. (Oh, did I say run? I mean take the elevator.) But they do not fit into the healthy food choice bill. And if you're not careful in reading the fine script, you may just be opting for one high in saturated fats and sugar, much like a Snickers bar.

5. Anti-Ageing Creams:
Olay Regenerist

When life gives you zits, make beauty spots. We bravely battled pimples the size of golf balls in school only to laugh off the war trauma as "DIY zit concealer experiments gone wrong" in adulthood. And what do we get after reaching the other side? Fine lines, wrinkles, saggy eyes, and a haggard-looking face staring back at you in your morning reflection. So it's natural that instead of accepting who you are or treading down the more difficult course of changing your lifestyle, you look for miracles. And where do you find them? On commercials showing you an image of your favourite celebrity endorsing an age-reversing serum, looking a decade younger, photo-shopped to perfection. And there may be a lot of good ingredients in that cream, such as retinol and antioxidants, but none of them are going to turn back the clock for you. You may have better-looking skin over a period of time, which is awesome, but let's be realistic. It's not going to make you look a decade younger, and definitely not so in four weeks.

Have more to add to the list? Feel free to write in your comments and I'll come back with a vengeance with Part 2.

Sitcom Classics and the Happy Family Ideal

 I wasn't much of the outdoorsy type as a kid. I sure did get a good 1-2 hours of stomping, jumping and hopping with my friends on weeknights (and unlimited hours of that on weekends), but the moment they switched to serious sports (such as cricket and football), I'd put on my best whiny face and take the rest of the entertainment scheme indoors.  And my dad loved watching comedy family sitcoms. So by these two benevolent forces of nature, I hopped on to the classic family comedy sitcom bandwagon. Hooked on to shows that would go on to be a part of my psyche, even though some of them seem really dated and shadowy now.

So I thought why not reminisce those lovable, feel-good shows that helped me combat those long and boring afternoons of cricket marathons, an attack of mumps, and that proved to be the perfect antidote to rainy day blues (with french fries and ginger tea).

Anyone who grew up in the 90s will probably recollect some of these shows, have the schedule of these shows still memorized, recite some of their theme songs and maybe still carry a phantom of absurd role-models from these shows.

Here is my list of epic fam-com sitcoms that have managed to leave their traces in my oh-so-fleeting memory (in no particular order):

1. Different Strokes: 
A bold comedy that dared to look at racial issues with a sense of humor. A widower steps up to take guardianship of his housekeeper's children after his demise and they are raised in a pretty much white community of  upper-class New Yorkers.  Add quirks from an eccentric housekeeper to the oddity of it all and you have some hilarious moments. But the heart of the show was of course the little grubling with the chubby cheeks, Arnold Jackson, and his famous tagline, "What you talkin' about?"

I haven't tried watching the show recently but I'm not sure if it'd be as funny today as it did have a bunch of serious episodes and I guess we skipped the later seasons where it went on to tackle some grave issues such as drugs, molestation, and bullying. But still worth remembering.

2. Small Wonder:
Ok, as a kid, I ate and drank in front of the TV, held my pee and shushed everyone (including visitors) while this sci-fi comedy went on. It's about a robot modeled after a real human girl (Vikki) and all the situational comedy that comes out of acclimatizing her with becoming as human as possible. Their trouble is aggravated by snoopy and annoying neighbors (who could use a collective punch in the face). I loved the way that little girl balanced her stolid self with her charming wit and an earnest commitment to mimic. And of course, the loving brother-sister moments with Jamie were cute. Again, I'm not sure if it'd be still as funny or just a bit too familiar.

3. Too Close for Comfort:
Not sure if I was too young to watch this as a 10-year old and I don't even remember if I understood all the jokes but the parts I remember were hilarious! So you have a conservative dad married to a former singer. They occupy the upper part of their duplex house. The other half is occupied by their two grown daughters (the stereotypical, inappropriate smokin' hot blonde with the boy issues and a decent-looking, smart-alecky one). Oh, and there's also a transvestite character (Seriously, how were we allowed to watch this?) Anyway, so naturally the dad wants the proximity so he can keep an eye on his daughters and the daughters are always scheming to get away for the sake of their independence.

In a nutshell, the overprotective dad's always meddling in the girls' affairs and also letting his imagination get ahead of him while the mother fruitlessly tries to keep the balance.
FYI, there's a recent show which is sorta inspired from this called 8 Simple Rules.

4. Fresh Prince of Bel Air:
Now, hands down, this is one of the funniest shows on television ever! I have watched the reruns recently and Will's comic timing, Carton's quirky dancing and all his yuppiness, and ofcourse Hilary's delusional spoilt-brat attitude cracks me up all the time! And Geoffrey does complete justice to the sarcastic, disgruntled butler. Add to that an epic cameo star cast- everyone from Queen Latifah to Tyra Banks.

For anyone who's possibly not seen this show, it's about a poor Philadelphia boy going to live with his wealthy uncle and his family and how all their lives get completely flipped-turned upside down  in street slang as Will shatters their old-fashioned ways. It is a laughter riot, y'all!

5. Punky Brewster:
Ah, this girl had spunk! I sure idolized her (way too much to be honest). But you've gotta admire an 8-year old abandoned girl who gets away with everything from crashing in flower carts to trespassing the Chicago Club's dugout. The story revolves around an abandoned girl with her golden retriever who find refuge with a grouchy old man. The irrepressible spirit of Punky Brewster is what wins this show for me as this is a girl who's not afraid to be herself even with her share of misadventures.

I think there are some great value lessons in this show along with all the fun and whimsy. Extremely important lessons about acceptance, respect and individuality! Would definitely have Saanvi see this show. Atleast the good bits.

6. Full House:
Full House gave us the most endearing dad and dad-figures, the Olsen twins (when they were still cute) as the adorable baby Mitchell and all kinds of cutesy-poo situations.

Now I wouldn't call this show hilarious and it kind of did go downhill in the later seasons but then the most important things the Tanner family taught us are how a wholesome family can deal with the horribleness of family conflicts, the confusing gulf between being a child and an adult and how to keep an endless faith that everything will be alright if you just stick together.

7. Bewitched:
The comic premise of this show was simple. Instead of having a grotesque, long-nosed witch, cauldron-stirring, shady-looking character gliding around on a broom, we have a curvy bombshell with a designer wardrobe as an eager-to-please housewife (Samantha) to a charming but goofy ad man (Darin). The episodes would usually have Samantha cast a spell with a twitch of her nose to solve a problem somewhere early in the episode and somehow, the spell would backfire and she'd have to solve a graver problem on account of it.

 I love the episode where Darin sprains his ankle and is confined to bed. Samantha tires of  being at Darin's every beck and call and decides to use witchcraft to get the house to do all the chores for her. Darin goes outlandish with the easy life offered by magic but in time, realizes that things lose their meaning when you don't have to work to get them.

7. 227:
Another popular African-American comedy, 227 explored the routine goings-on and the hot gossips of an apartment building in a primarily Black neighborhood, featuring Marla Gibbs as Mary Jenkins, a no-nonsense, tart-tongued sort of woman, who spends her day sitting around on the stoop keeping tabs on another neighbours.

 I don't remember much about this show but I recall laughter whizzing by every half a minute from my dad, which I thought was hilarious :). Intend to catch this on youtube to do it more justice.

Perhaps this list doesn't comprise totally awesome, "quote from at dinner parties" kind of television. Perhaps, these are shows that have been discarded and long buried underneath for their hackneyed humor and predictable format.

I secretly treasure these shows for all their nostalgic appeal and more importantly, for the reason that they teach us that each family concocts their own formula for happiness, however twisted it may seem to an onlooker. And that if you can manage to laugh off the big and small tragedies together and stand by each other as completely different people, life wouldn't be such a bitch after all.

So there's my list. Anything you'd like to add?