Pride Unprejudiced! (Fable - Part 17)

That Woman was in Delhi. And for her, just being there was akin to being in love. She shared special moments with the city. She’d grown with it, grown in it and groaned for it. And now, back there on work, life couldn’t be any better. Work was killing, but wonderful. She spent hours everyday with some of the coolest music people everyday at the sound studio where she went for audio mixing for her TV show. And on her second day there, she met Big Crush.

I was five and he was six

We rode on horses made of sticks

He wore black and I wore white

He would always win the fight

And just the sight of him took her back 14 years, when she was 13, and had her hugest crush ever (then!) on Big Crush! It was a slightly complicated situation. She first noticed Big Crush when she accompanied a friend, wanting to meet her brother, to the twelfth class corridor. And Big Crush was said friend’s brother’s best friend. She was smitten! He was the tallest boy in school. He was a tai-kwon-do black belt, captain of the basketball team, played the drums and the guitar and sang beautifully for the school band. And also was the House Captain! He was waaaay up there in the school’s coolness hierarchy and waaay out of her league! All he ever said to her back then was a very patronizing “Hi!” and she cherished the sound of his voice saying that and how his lips had moved to form that word and she couldn’t eat, sleep or finish homework that day.

Bang bang

He shot me down

Bang bang

I hit the ground

Bang bang

My baby shot me down

After that first day, she waited to catch a glimpse of him in the morning assembly, during lunch break and any other random time when she’d be out of class. And then, stepping out of class became a battle strategy to take the extra long detour so she could walk past his class. And this was most complicated. Because her class was on the fourth floor, west wing. His on the first floor, east wing. Now there were times when she’d have to run to the second floor, west wing. So she always ran down to first floor, east wing, up the stairs to the second floor, running across to the west wing, finishing the work, running down to first floor, walking past Big Crush’s class, catching a glimpse of him, running up the stairs to the fourth floor. A bit much, but we shouldn’t forget how we are when we’re 13! That, I think is the only age when you can really, truly do Anything For Love. Anything!
This went on for the longest time and she maintained a record of the Good Days and Bad Days. Bad Days were when he didn’t come to school. Good Days were when he said Hi to her. And there were a couple of miracle days as well. Big Crush shifted house and moved somewhere which made him take the same school bus as she did. Oh what joy! The first day when she saw him on the bus, she almost fainted. That was Miracle Day. He smiled at her as she walked past him to take her seat. He never sat. He was a senior, and a rather cool one at that, which entitled him to stand by the footboard and do his thing! And she was so so jealous of all the girls from his class who shared such cozy familiarity with him, and could talk to him whenever they wanted. Life was so not fair!

Seasons came and changed the time

When I grew up I called him mine

He would always laugh and say

Remember when we used to play

And then came the day her heart broke in two. She’d been hearing rumors of him going out with Deputy Head Girl and she simply filtered them out of her mind and her life. Thinking that denying it would also negate its existence. And then she saw them holding hands in the bus. Taking long walks down a sunlit path in school which ran through a lot of trees and foliage. And on the day before his board exams, she saw them kissing in the library in a corner. And she actually felt her heart snap into two. It was the most terrible thing to happen to a 13 year old. But it did! The board exams came and went and she never saw him after that.

Bang bang

I shot you down

Bang bang

You hit the ground

Bang bang

That awful sound

Bang bang

I used to shoot you down

Life moved on. Eventually. She passed out of school, then college. And one day she caught him playing the drums in a music video. But at that point, she didn’t think of the crush she had on him. Her first thought was what the hell is he doing in that band? An Indi-Pop band she really liked? But she didn’t have much time to ponder over that either and her life continued. Big Crush was forgotten.
Until two weeks back. When he resurfaced at the sound studio, to compose the theme for her show. She was surprised to see him there. He wasn’t. ‘Cos he didn’t remember her from back then. And they had to be introduced. Unable to resist, she told him, “We’re from the same school!”
“Really? Wow! Which batch did you pass out?”
“1996… I was 4 years your junior!”
“You actually remember me from back then?” he seemed surprised and she felt stupid.
“Well, you were my House Captain. It was a big deal then! And you were also my friend’s brother’s best friend. RD, remember?”
“Oh yesss…” he frowned. “I do vaguely remember now… Did you also commute on my bus?”
“Yes,” she tried to suppress a grin. In that moment, she tried to find her good old naïve, love struck self and tried to think what a similar moment would have meant to her 14 years ago.
They chatted animatedly for some time, discussing common friends, teachers, the yummy chocolate brownies they got in school… and then got down to work. That Woman was most amused by this turn of events. Later in the evening, during a coffee break, he asked her about herself. And as she told him, she felt a heady, dizzy rush of euphoria which she desperately tried to transport back over a 14 year long distance.
The next day, he told her about himself. All that he’d done since school. Graduation, followed by an MBA, followed by a corporate job and marriage, both of which felt awful. He got back to music, which he’d always been passionate about. Played with that Great Band, composed music for jingles, went through a bitter divorce, composed the music for the new album…
She admitted she was a fan of the band. He took her for a jam session they were having, gave her an autographed copy of the new CD, let her share a joint with them and in between had long hours of conversation.
It was a dizzying feeling. It was the most unexpected encounter she could have imagined. But the work deadline didn’t allow her the kind of time she’d have loved to have to dwell over the turn of events. She started work at 10AM every day and it went on till 5AM the next day, followed by 4 hours of sleep before the cycle began again.
She was a little late getting to the sound studio on the fourth day. An SMS from Big Crush popped up: Waiting impatiently to add a little music and sweetness to your life… Show up!
This unsettled her a bit. Why exactly? She couldn’t fathom. And then she tried to imagine what that line would have done to her 14 years ago. And how much it would have meant to her. Then. She reached the studio and found Big Crush sitting there with chocolate brownies he’d bought from her from their school canteen. She was stumped! He looked at her and grinned. “Do these ring a bell?”
“Oh dear! Yes!...” she didn’t know how to react really, but there was something odd about that look he gave her and about that whole moment. And since she couldn’t place her finger on it, she decided to do what her mother always told her to. When in doubt, shut up!
So she kept her distance and stayed aloof as they lay the soundtrack on that day’s episode. She suddenly noticed how all his comments and remarks were not only aimed at her and for her in a room full of 5 people but also highly double entendre-ish. He laughed the loudest at her lamest jokes. And he always managed to add in the fact that they were in the same school and commuted in the same bus and she had a crush on him while he had no clue and how they’ve met again after so many years.
They took a coffee and smoke break and all of them stepped outside. It was 3AM. The posh South Delhi colony where the studio was, looked like Sleeping Beauty. Most calm and serene and peaceful, yet so pretty. She took a little stroll down the road to keep herself awake and he followed her. “It all ends on Friday, doesn’t it?” he asked her.
“Yes. It’s been maddening! But great fun!” she smiled.
“Come with me to Kasauli for the weekend then?” he asked bluntly. “I have a place there.”
She looked at him shocked. And appalled. Not believing that he’d just hinted at having a weekend fling.
“Err…no. I’m leaving for Bombay on Sunday,” she lied coolly. Feeling horrible inside and wondering what about her led him to believe she was so available. And suddenly he became a blur as That Woman’s mind drifted off to attend to the million questions that kept popping up in her head.

Now he's gone I don't know why
And till this day sometimes I cry
He didn't even say goodbye
He didn't take the time to lie

She had been emotionally slutty. By revealing too much too soon. And just because she was mad about him 14 years ago didn’t mean she was mad about him even now. And honestly, she wasn’t. But it was enough to give him ideas. And all the wrong ones too. She realized she had been the one to lead him on ‘cos of her past, and a vivid recollection of her thoughts and feelings back then. Yes, she felt nice having this proximity to him now. But she was just trying to take away this moment and give it to the girl who wanted it so bad back in the past. She did find her old optimistic self, and wondered if she wanted to give her a second chance? To reconnect with the first boy she’d ever had a crush on in order to get back in touch with her own dating innocence and joy? To find out what had she picked up along the way other than emotional baggage? Can it be true that all we glean from adult relationships is how to be more guarded and overly analytical? Is it possible that we were better at love and being in love when we knew less, and didn’t analyze things at all?
The answers came at a price that was too high.
If she looked at him objectively now, he was just another guy going through a bad divorce, a fucked up existence, craving for sympathy and company in the form of a quick hook-up with whoever was willing or available. He tried to be overly witty, funny and charming. Tried to use his band and her love for their music as a major USP. Not e wasn’t aknowing that she had seen and worked with enough ‘celebrities’ to be immune to their charms and wiles. Hll that great after all. He was just another regular slimeball in a very attractive package, which was not used to rejection.

Bang bang

That awful sound

Bang bang

I hit the ground

Bang Bang

My baby shot me down!

At the end of the last day working with him, she drove home at 5AM with mixed feelings and a heavy heart. She felt strangely vulnerable but denied it to herself. She felt cheated but didn’t know how. She still believed in happy endings and she surprised herself. After all, what did each encounter of this sort do to a regular single girl? It simply raised the bar on her expectations from future relationships and how she visualized The One. Her Soulmate.
She slowed her car right in the middle of the AIIMS flyover, on her way home, as the skies turned pink at dawn. A most random thought struck her. 14 years ago was also the time when the AIIMS crossing was at its worst, right before the mammoth construction project began. And look at the way it was transformed now. And the way it had transformed the future of commuting and driving in Delhi.
She laughed at herself. At the total madness of that thought. Of Big Crush and his words. Of her own naïveté 14 years back. Of the real meaning of Whatever Happens Happens For The Best. Of placing it in perspective then and now. Whatever happened then and now had indeed been for the best.

She’d completed another circle on a rollercoaster. She’d been on a merry-go-round and through the revolving doors. She had gone so far out on a limb with her feelings that she didn't realize she was standing out there alone.
But she'd still raised the bar another few notches for herself and her Soulmate, who, like the truth was out there. Somewhere.
Stepping away from the mad rush, the frenzy, the career ladder, the daily grind, he would be somebody she would be able to stand still with for a moment. And he would want to step away from the mad rush, the frenzy, the career ladder, the daily grind to stand still with her for a moment. A moment that would last a lifetime.
She knew her Soulmate had to be a man who was done and over with the flings and hook-ups. And had raised the bar a few notches up for himself. Who was confident enough to give himself just to the woman who was worth him. If that woman were her, she would love him completely, truly and forever. For she was done with her share of flings and bad relationships. And she understood what it took to raise the bar.

And to meet that mark.

Sex, Lies and Fashion Week Videotapes! (Fable - Pt 16)

It’s that time of the year again. Yayyyy! The time, most personal floating in great fragments of enigma, when That Woman took stock of the year gone by, met old friends, acquaintances, competitors and rivals…and made new friends, acquaintances etc. But this year proved to be a little different. And this year, like the Lakme India Fashion Week she felt split in two as well.
She had been present at the fashion week since it began, in 2000. As an Asst. Producer with an American TV crew, which was a great thing then ‘cos she was still in college and foreign TV crews paid weekly and in dollars! And when you’re 20, and living on pocket money, $1200 for a week is not a bad deal at all. So That Woman and Best-est Friend moonlighted at the LIFW for an entire week and got badly hooked to the lovely creative energy there. In 2001, they were in film school and LIFW was reason to bunk boring classes for a week. In 2002, the Commies of the class sneered at them for being associated with a frivolous, mindless fashion event for people who didn’t have any real work and real concerns. People like That Woman, who refused to go to a Narmada Bachao dharna for the fashion week and waxed eloquent in its defence here.
2003 was a tough call. They had passed out of film school, and That Woman, as commitment phobic as ever, refused to follow the herd and join one of the various TV channels. She took the plunge, and along with Best-est Friend, formed a tiny company that managed to get a lot of work outsourced to them by various production houses abroad. Being an entrepreneur was fun, and the first assignment they got was to cover the fashion week completely on their own for the same American TV channel! It proved to be a tough task but they pulled it off, with the help of a few friends doubling up as assistants, wanting to be a part of fashion week. The event that year, was at the NCPA in Bombay. 2003 and 2004 were the same, but fashion week happened in Delhi, at the lovely venue The Grand.
Lakme Fashion Week 2006, back at the NCPA and That Woman knew she had come full circle. In more ways than one. She was no longer an assistant with no decision making capacity whatsoever. She was not making shows for an American company either. Instead, she and Best-est Friend were called to join the Big Guys themselves as producers. And from that vantage point, everything looked different.
There’s a most awesome buzz at the Fashion Week. A buzz that’s indescribable. But almost similar to the buzz on a film set, only ten times magnified. The Buzz that happens only when loads of young talented designers, photographers, media people, choreographers, set designers, make-up artists, DJs, buyers and various other “creative types” congregate in the same space-time continuum for a week. And of course the tones of uber-fabulous clothes and accessories! The Buzz can never be captured on the TV cameras, and sadly, those who’ve never been to a fashion week, will always think of it as a frivolous fashion event and keep ignoring the fact that its poised to become a Rs 2000Cr industry!
And for a designer, his show becomes his sacred personal space which allows him to express himself in more ways than one. Manish Arora’s LIFW show in 2003 had stunning clothes and great music. And the last section of the show had a very well done remix of Saare Jahaan Se Achcha by The Midival Punditz. The section was called India Rocks and the motif was a digitally printed black and white image of two young men holding each other and India Rocks written diagonally in corners in bright fluorescent fuchsia. Something happened in the audience as the first 4 models walked on the ramp real fast. The image of the two men and India Rocks was on skirts, tops, bags, corsets… She looked at Pi, who was wiping away tears from his eyes. Suddenly all the gay men in the audience stood up and applauded really loudly for the longest time ever. And That Woman was in awe of that entire moment.
“For the first time, someone’s made a public statement about gay men in India and that they are as much a part of the country as straight men are. Even though they are treated rather harshly, often with no tolerance and moral policing, they are Indians who are proud to be Indians and think India Rocks. No matter what. And they could be accepted here!” Pi told her later, still looking stunned.
Day 1 this year, she noticed The Buzz was completely, mindblowingly different. There were lots of new faces… a whole new crop of assistants. Where were the old ones? All the people she had known for all these years? The Fashion Week buddies she had hung out with at mealtimes, exchanging gossip? …They’d all moved up too! They were now fashion editors at big time magazines like Cosmopolitan, Elle and the soon-to-be-launched Marie Claire. Design assistants were making their fashion week debuts as designers showcasing their collections on the ramp.
Like her, they had all come full circle too. Like her, they too were now grooming a new crop of young assistants how to watch a fashion show. Teaching them what cut, construction and silhouette meant. Teaching them the importance of buyers at the event. Talking of buyers, where were the familiar faces? They didn’t come ‘cos the event and the Indian fashion industry was no longer a distant rumble for them. It had turned into a mega event meant to be noticed. Which explained why stores like Saks Fifth Avenue, Selfridges, Browns, Harrods had sent in their Vice Presidents and C.E.O.’s to check out the event instead of younger executives.
Fashion Week teaches you to be an individual and to assert that individuality. It’s about pursuing your dreams, not being afraid of setbacks and failures, gritting your teeth and standing tall only to return again next year in a new improved avatar! And there’s no glamour. A designer slogs hard with several darzis 6-10 months prior to the event, deals with bank loans and various other mundane issues to come up with a collection, which is worn by top models and is given its 15 minutes of fame and glamour. After which, is the litmus test. Right there and then! If your audience is staring at the models, either all of them are at a fashion show for the first time, or they hate your clothes. But if they’re staring at your clothes, you know you’ve done it! Your success is toasted right away.
And where That Woman was concerned, the highlight of this year’s event were the three new designers, called Gen Next, from the graduating batch of NID who’d been given the chance to participate after a rigorous selection process. She made it a point to attend their show and requested others to do so too. Nothing hurts a first time designer more than seeing a number of empty seats staring back defiantly when he comes on the ramp to take a bow. It’s unfair, to say the least when there were the same old complacent designers trying to hide their mediocrity behind a Bollywood bandwagon, either on the runway or on the front row.
So in her first decision-making moment, she changed the run order of the episodes. Cutting down air time from a few such complacent designers and allocating it to the Gen Next designers, thus giving them an entire section of their own. These were people who’d be waiting to watch the show on air. Waiting to show their friends, family and acquaintances what there moments on the runway were like.
So while an actor or actress on the ramp definitely added the glamour quotient, she added in her Post Show Review section Albert Morris of Browns, London hailing the young Rahul Mishra as “the next Sabyasachi” and how we, as Indians are responsible for ensuring that our talent stays here and doesn’t wither away in the prestigious anonymity that being John Galliano’s assistant would offer. Rahul is off to Milan soon for an internship, Shahzad Kalim is back from one with Versace and good old Sabyasachi was a permanent fixture in the front row of all these shows. Happy to lend his support, advice and infectious laugh. Knowing well, that he had been there and was still doing that. Weaving his magic, in more ways than one. He was an inspiration for young designers like Rahul and Samar to take up the cause for the dying art of weaving in Kerala and Bhagalpur.
And like Albert said, it’s up to us, as Indians, to nurture our talent. And feel extremely proud when these very people represent the country at highly competitive platforms like the London Fashion Week and New York Fashion Week. And watch life come full circle for them as well!
***
That Woman was approached by a magazine editor who wanted her to write a “relationship advice” column in her magazine. “You know, like you use real life examples from your relationship and the lessons you learn from it and how it’s helped you and your boyfriend. Do you get what I’m trying to say?” she asked with the optimism of someone who had too many bright ideas but too few people to comprehend them.
That Woman paused to let the question die a dignified death before telling her, “No, I don’t get that because I have no current real life examples to talk about. Do you get what I’m trying to say?”
“Oh no problem! You can pretend to be in a relationship and go along with the advice bit. How would anybody know?” she persisted.
“Can’t I do it without the ‘being in a relationship’ element?” That Woman asked.
“No, darling! You’d simply sound more credible if the readers thought you were speaking from current experience. They’d relate to you more and identify with your situation to improve theirs! Don’t you get it?”
That Woman really didn’t. She was worried that “the readers” from all around the country were going to figure out and expose her as a fraud. Who was she to be giving relationship advice? If she was so smart, why was she home alone on Saturday night trying to come up with all that bullshit? Would she be a relationship imposter because she was not currently in a relationship, has not been able to maintain a relationship, and does not have any prospects for a new relationship? Nor does she have a funny term for this predicament.
While women are certainly extremely adept at faking it – from faking our hair color, breasts, bodies, we've even faked fur and leather. She couldn’t help but wonder, has fear of being alone suddenly raised the bar on faking? Are we faking more then orgasms? Are we faking entire relationships? Is it better to fake it than be alone? That Woman still believed in love despite all evidence to the contrary, and she believed in soulmates, although lately she’d been wondering if hers just took a wrong turn, got lost and was too stubborn to ask for directions. She was out there, baby. She was looking. But she also had other things to do along with that. Career and such like.
She felt like the tree in the forest. If no one saw it fall, did it really ever fall? In this situation it meant that if a tree falls in the forest and no one makes a movie about it or writes about it, who cares? So she thought of accepting the assignment as a fun thing and maybe her first work of fiction! But that was all it was. A thought.
Awesome to imagine herself in this ideal situation where she had a fling with all the beautiful men she met. Had no career issues, weight issues, wardrobe issues, money issues, maid issues, family issues…Phew! Where she’d get asked out by every man within a 3 feet radius and men would run over each other to buy her a drink at the club. And when she’d dance wearing those killer stilettos, her feet won’t hurt and people around her would stare in awe and might even applaud. Then she’d pick up one of the men and bring him home and have fantastic sex. Always have fantastic sex, because, in a fantasy everything was perfect. And then she’d realize that this random guy from the club turned out to be her soulmate. She’d be madly in love with him and he’d be even more madly in love with her and…
Hello? Where are the relationship issues? Well, there bursts the bubble. If she had to fake a relationship, she’d rather fake one which is perfect. I mean, if she didn’t have dispatch deadlines from channels to deal with in this fantasy, why should she have any other sort of issues at all?
Was she okay with letting “the readers” get a voyeuristic peep into a non-existent life? She knew people out there who were doing it… in magazine columns, in popular blogs. And she’d never figured out how they found validation in the whole world of pretty sounding lies they’d created for themselves. How would it help if she let a bunch of random strangers believe she was this person living this great life where she got over every little relationship hiccup with a smile and a twitch of her nose? Why could she not be the regular, single working girl who concentrated on her career while hoping other pieces of her life would magically fall in place? And doing all this while trying not to hit rock bottom or lowering her standards almost to the point of no return? If it were a blog, she could be anonymous and lie away to glory. But in a popular magazine, which even she was a fan of? And was read by friends, acquiantances etc...? Wouldn't they know, and find her to be slightly weird?
The thought continues to bother her even after a week. She still hasn’t found the answers. And now, she puts it out here for the world to ponder over too as she goes back to the maddest ever dispatch deadline of one episode per day.
The fruits of this labor of love are up on air on Zee Café at 9:30 PM every evening starting April 10th through April 15th.
And ending in a two hour finale on Zee TV at 6:30 PM on April 16th.