Well Barbie, We Meet Again

Photo Credits: Her Uncle, Surya Chaturvedi

Is there a girl on this planet who hasn't been moved by the appeal of Barbie? Either it tugged at all your heartstrings until you broke into a Barbie ballad or it vexed you to the point of chewing off her head. And her beautiful shoes.

Or like me, you were somewhere in between. I was sorta a doll person but I was an easily distractible child. My interests kept moving from skinny, poker-faced dolls to congenial-looking, fuller puppet dolls and robust superhero figures; basically whatever lent to the tone of my tea party, life-saving quests, tree-climbing escapades and other pastime lures. I didn't really idolize Barbie too much, but I gotta say her glimmering mermaid gowns and lulu skirts were too haute couture to resist. Add to that an unattainable hourglass figure, a smashing boyfriend, a dream shoe closet and knees that bend both ways and you know you want to grow up to be just like her!

Obviously, for those very reasons and her annoying 'come hither' expression, there comes a time in your life when you loathe her with all your might. And poor Barbie still struggles to prove her worth to the world at large, including feminists - that she's not just a pretty face living in a fancy bubble. She took her exact same measurements and doll face across diverse, smart professions. She was a photographer, an astronaut, an US presidential candidate, a rock diva, a doctor and thanks to recent commercials, a professor, a soccer coach, a vet, well everything that you could possibly want her to be. And if parents like me are getting peeved with her empty stares, Hola new Barbie! The Hello Barbie series is programmed to have intelligent, politically-correct conversations with children belonging to various ethnicities, recording their responses and leading with new questions. Of course, the immediate concern with that one is won't her engagement come in the way of her role-playing ability in child neverland?

When I look back at the journey of Barbie, I feel a bit sad for her. I wouldn't say she's necessarily a bad role model. In fact, I'm even tempted to go ahead and say that the reason Barbie is trying so hard to please everyone is because of her to-die-for figure and her beautiful face. Had she been a little hard on the eyes, or carrying a bit of holiday weight every now and then, or sporting some occasional acne like us lesser mortals, she wouldn't have to try this hard to prove her worth. She wouldn't go on to fight against phrases such "You're such a Barbie" to imply insipidity, narcissism, an all-hair-but-no-brain existence and above all, a woman who's perennially a damsel in distress. Maybe it's her trademark commitment to flawlessness and anorexic waistline that make us feel threatened. We fear that our little girls would in some way internalize that perfect, skinny ideal and not appreciate any other shape as acceptable. Barbie, frozen in her utopian bliss, could potentially be tipping little girls over to the real world of body shaming, low self-esteem and food abuse.

Nevertheless, I feel for her, for as far as I can recall as a little girl, she was super-fun. And yet, when I see my three-year old girl slowly edging towards the 'Barbie world', only to linger on with her for hours, I am a bit wary. Cos now I'm an over-analytical, paranoid parent who believes that little children draw lessons from everything around them. So if I watch her play with a tad too many pink princesses, I fight back temptation to throw in a scientist doll. I try to bring in a bit of diversity in the hairstyles and dresses she sports and when Peaches fusses over her hair, I emphasize that she doesn't mind frizzed-out hair once in a while.

And then I think to myself, "What the f*** is wrong with me? She's a plastic doll. Peaches plays with her the same way I did. She's mesmerized by her tiny bags and shoes and little pets. Her body proportions and appearance make for a cute playmate but they don't really matter to her that much. Barbie in an emerald mermaid gown is dragged into a diaper-change situation or a hill-climbing adventure in much the same way as she's cordially invited to a tea party with bunnies in tuxedos. Sometimes, Peaches insists she wears her baby tees cos she thinks her dress is not too comfy. Sometimes, little Barbie falls sick, even though she couldn't look less airbrushed to perfection, and she's administered orange juice in a dropper. And while trying to slide on a pair of jeans on her that Peaches has washed for her benefit , I realize that even poor Barbie has 'real' moments when her jeans are too tight to go over her hips.

And it occurs to me that all the Barbie-bashing and stereotyping actually happens in my mind as an adult. The real problem is not Barbie's fake eyelashes and unrealistic body image. The problem is that I read too much into it. Cos as parents, we either probe something too much to the point of irrationality or we just stare at it blank-faced in incomprehension; right before falling into an awkward slumber, exhausted from thinking, manipulating and pointing cautionary fingers.

The truth for now is that my little girl is discovering a world of her own, alongside Barbie - a world where everything goes. Where a head-turner doll in high heels and short skirts could very well be a palaeontologist if she wants to. And a world where Barbie doesn't get her way just 'cos she's pretty and she'll still have to wait for her turn to go on the slide next to pudgy piggies and slow turtles.

So, quite contrary to my beliefs earlier about not wanting Peaches to get swayed by dolls and runway dresses, I've decided I'm gonna let her keep her Barbies and dollhouses. I'm going to let her pretend-wear my lipstick once in a while and watch herself in the mirror, etching her grown-up diva self in her reflection. I'm gonna let her get caught up in designing her own wardrobe (well in her case, it's going to be the shoes that come first) and every candyfloss reality that she cares for. For, as long as I can remember, girls have had a vision of an enchanted life in which all eyes are on them. I read the classics as a little girl and imagined myself in one of those lacey, lilac, tight-corsetted Victorian gowns, even if it meant getting nebulized in them later. I imagined how it would have been to go to one of those ball dances and be the center of everyone's attention and then sneak out to have my own after-party with a select fraternity later. Girls need their excuses to dress up and have everyone swooning after them and their magical existence.

However, I am going to keep a watchful eye on the saturation level. And maybe direct her penchant for fantasy and attention-seeking to dance, music and theatre. And if she gets a little too involved in her appearance, so beat it. It doesn't mean she can't have other interests, such as animals, food and the world around her. Maybe, there'll come a time when she'll echo the beauty and popularity ideal dictated by the instagram of the fashion brigade. As being the turf of those who fit the Barbie image of being slender and tall and goddess-like. She'll probably even paint their reality as idyllic with their days filled with rosy escapades of shopping, fine dining, fitness routines and high-flying parties with tiny, vibrant-looking canapes and selfie props. Of course then, I'll have to try harder to ensure that this obsession of superficial gloss of it doesn't stay with her for long and she can move on to more constructive things in life.

But aside from this grim, adult vantage point of her fake charmed life, let's not forget that Barbie, to a little girl, remains a dedicated playmate who is true to her self and is venturing out on her own into a world of possibilities. So she does it with extra sparkle but that couldn't hurt anyone.

Thus I vow to not give Barbie any more flack for her itsy-bitsy waistline and bunion-giving shoes. Sure her choice of make-up and footwear seem a bit impractical, especially in a lab coat. But she wasn't really meant to mimic real life and I'll let Peaches call her bluff by herself. Whenever she's ready.

But sure as hell, I'm going to be a total grinch and say no to Barbie-themed parties, oreo cookies for Barbie, Barbie bathroom sets and pink furry pencils with lil Barbie mascots.

That's where I draw the line on the Barbie infiltration...

Capricious Rain

You crept in slowly on my window sill when I was getting through the clutter of my day,
I snubbed you in the corner of my mind and burrowed myself into a pile of wind-up chores.
Come midnight, you drummed over my roof with a noisy clatter of raindrops falling astray.
It cracked through the silence of wee hours, it drowned the sound of our mutterings and whispers;
I held my daughter in my arms until your tempestuous repining melted into a soothing lullaby.

I wake up to a dreary dawn, the clouds determined to stay overcast for a while.
Writhing in the languor of a dark sky, we resolve to play, pattering through puddles.
With every leap, my girl screams with euphoria, her light feet springing agile,
We soak in your rapture; the chilly wind drives us away, our buoyant spirits muddled.
We come back home to put on crisp, clean clothes and drink hot chocolate; something in the air is heavy and still.

The day drags on while you come gushing down far and wide.
People flurry like ants, under bright umbrellas; the earth wraps itself around heavy wheels tracking their laborious journey.
We send paper-boats with dried twigs down the stream on our terrace, taking the rolling storm in a stride.
Laden with dreams, the boats unsteadily sail down the murky stream, swirling in circles many.
Eventually my girl wearies of this game; the wind blows a whistle and I wait — wait for you to draw a breath.

I often wonder about you while watching you from a distance, never quite letting you in.
What is it that makes you evocative of romance to one and of misery and loss to another.
What is your true spirit? Perhaps you mirror that of the one who bears your light drizzle and thunderous torrent akin.
I picture myself standing amidst your cacophony, my arms outstretched to the cosmos undiscovered.
But I dare not let you in; you scream chaos, you wash away every facade, and in your evanescent blindness I'd fade — fade into nothingness...

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.