Shroud of a Shawl
Can we allow an endangered species to succumb to political rhetoric

(column by Indira Parthasarathy)

Politicians and promises. However many number of times you may have cracked up at the amnesic unattainability of the latter by the former, you’ll now fervently wish it possessed some element of actuality, if only for the sake of some soft -haired, shy antelopes. For, along with the drive to mobilise more “agencies for urban employment generation programs” in J&K is being touted a frighteningly preposterous prospect of lifting the ban on the literal died-in-the-wool Frankenstein of a fabric, shahtoosh.

Whether in a fit of rhetoric-rush or a grossly miscalculated measure to map the favour of minority vote banks, Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) president Mehbooba Mufti declared that the sanctions on shahtoosh had only served to render the weaver class resourceless, and thus be emoved. The suggestion, obviously, was ade with little regard for the non-voter dwellers of the high-altitude (14,000 to 18,000 ft ) terrains of Tibet, China and India the Chiru or the Tibetan Antelope.

Bestowed with underfur-so-fine – approximately one-sixth of the human hair – the Chiru’s pelt is highly coveted for weaving shawls which drape the so-called cognoscenti crowd of the society. Procured not by shearing but killing, the wool of a minimum of three antelopes is required to create the softest and warmest of winter wraps costing an average of five lakhs! Given its disconcerting status in CITES pointing to its numbered few existence, it would not take rocket science to prove that the plight of the weaver community, who the honourable Member of Parliament sure means well for, would relapse to no better than it is now, were she to have her way. Says fashion designer Jattinn Kochhar, “Though I feel that the shawls, now in the heirlooms of some, must be preserved as precious souvenirs, there is just no fashion which mandates such merciless bloodshed.”

It might thus do well to get our facts right before the ministration of such self-defeating drills.

(End of Indira Parthasarathy column)

Teleshopping cuts a sorry ‘figure’!
Telly talismans to better health? ‘Remote’ are the possibilities!

(column by Karan Karayi)

Couch potatoes inclined to shopping at the flick of a button would do well to rechristen themselves ‘ouch’ potatoes instead. That’s because they can’t lounge around and say “sofa, so good” any more. After all, the digital life is by no means entirely the good life, as shopaholics punch drunk on the prospect of lapping up products offering grandiose promises of fitness via the idiot box have discovered, much to their chagrin.

The buzz of snaring a bargain buy at reduced prices from teleshopping channels is only a pyrrhic victory, for customers egged on by their illusion (or delusion, if you would!) find themselves dealing with more than they hankered for. Take, for instance, an abdominal belt peddled by a ubiquitous network that (supposedly) helps you whip that beer belly into shape. But actually, besides helping you burn (an infinitesimal amount of) calories, it also sears a crater into the wallet and, at times, into unsuspecting victims themselves. These wanton weapons of mass (know pun intended!) mayhem have kindred souls in other creative contraptions such as a sauna belt (say what?!), a stationary morning walker(!) and a magnetic eye patch (the marvels of modern technology... Einstein would be proud!)

As for their effectiveness and reliability in contributing towards the cause of physical conditioning, Professional Trainer Swapnil at Mumbai-based Talwalkar’s chain of fitness centres states it best, “I think it’s obvious enough that no product can work as a substitute for a clearcut workout regime in the gym. For the utility of wares endorsed by teleshopping networks, it’s anybody’s guess!”

These oddball tools are good for the health, not necessarily the consumer's, but of certain bank accounts instead! If ever the cliché of "shop till you drop” were propounded, it would be for this circumstance, though the user is likely to drop for every (im)plausible reason except genuine workout exertion!

(End of Karan Karayi column)

Rival alter egos
Mirror, mirror on the wall; can you choose between the two at all?!

(column by Pooja Priyadarshini)

Amidst a thunderous roar of applause and an assemblage of sirens from all across the country, there’s always a deserving dark horse who comes out trumps – the mistress of the glittering tiara! But when there happens to be more than just one powerful contender to possess that covetous crown, history is created… somewhat like one craft ed way back in 1994, when equal degrees of intelligence, poise, allure and confi dence walked down the ramp; when the two mesmerising maidens stung glory with their elegance extraordinaire!

Grace knowing no bounds in our cultural ambassadors, the Scorpion duo of Sushmita Sen and Aishwarya Rai (November 19 and November 1 respectively) have landed many a conventionalist’s foot in the mouth who seconded “in youth and beauty, wisdom is but rare,” as remarked Alexander Pope. Where Ash stole away a million hearts and the Miss World crown at Suncity in 1994, looking the fl awless nymph that she is, the very dynamic Titu (as Sen is lovingly addressed) repeated the feat at Manila the same year, albeit for a different crown, and together redefined the eminence of beauty pageants for Indians altogether…

Hailing from very humble backgrounds, their journey towards becoming citizens of the world was all about a beautiful amalgamation of beauty, opportunity, luck and hard work. In fact, the beauty queens showed early signs of sharp intellect too, when their arguments would leave most around them agape. And a good academic record only conditioned their calibre further and stood them in good stead at occasions like the momentous pageants where they bore the expectations of nearly a billion-strong population back home.

Before arriving at the very beautiful turning points in their lives, Aishwarya was already pursuing professional modeling while also nursing aspirations to become an architect. Sushmita, with more poetic inclinations, studied English literature, with a desire to take up the job of a journalist. That was the time when forms for the Miss India contest were released – and the rest is history!

World peace and women’s emancipation well-worded and behind them, both Sen and Rai made their way into movies. And quite interestingly, both made their foray into Tamil films first – Sush in Ratchakan and Ash in Iruvar. Although their debut work did not get them astounding acclaim, it definitely did open further avenues to Bollywood – somehow that worked wonders for the blueeyed Mangalorean more than it did for the ebullient Bengali. However, where Ash aka Gullu has tasted grand commercial success having worked with some great banners and directors, Sushmita manages to rub off instant charm on all she comes across despite a not-too-great box-office repertoire. Though, of late, Sush has not only broken the jinx with rave reviews for Zindaggi Rocks but also brought to light a hidden talent – her paintings were auctioned for Rs. 25 lacs to raise funds for Imran Khan's cancer hospital – philanthropy at its beauteous best!

Shattering the cherished conformist beliefs, the two have emerged as true iconoclasts in their own right, embodying till, the middle class values, replete with traditional femininity and poise. Without any qualms in being a single mother or unattached, they’ve once too oft en proved that it is anything but a woman’s world! To us, they are the indigenous, real world women, reposed with splendour and surrealism that will always remain…

(End of Pooja Priyadarshini column)

Hello Hawaii! Hello Hawaii!
Flying over to the land of the hula…

(column by Anu Gulmohar)

Relaxing in a hammock in Hawaii, a bright Aloha shirt on you, a fragrant lei of fresh flowers dangling around your neck, the breeze carrying with it the soft murmur of the breaking of the waves and the even more mesmerising songs of the Hawaiian houris, whose graceful movements gently rustle their grass skirts… These chants trace their origins to ages ago, when natives sought inspiration from nature and for expressing their emotions, they wove a harmony out of the sounds surrounding them – of the sea, of the wind in the leaves, of the rain pouring from the skies – and synchronised the same with graceful frolic as well...

Between November 9 and 11, the breathtaking locales of Waikiki will play host to the 15th World Invitational Hula Festival, a celebration of Hawaiian culture, art, history, language and well, all things Hawaiian! With 21 judges presiding over the largest of such Hawaiian competitions, participants from Japan, Mexico, USA, Philippines, Spain, Holland etc will come and share their passion for hula.

The deeply-ingrained respect for the environment in the Hawaiians manifests as they adopt nature's four elements as the festival theme. Messengers of Aloha Aina (love of the land), they believe that defiling any inch of Hawaii is akin to doing the same to themselves! While Hula kahiko stresses upon discipline and the correctness of the chants and movements, Hula ‘auana, is the modern version influenced by western soul! Either way, dance along...

(End of Anu Gulmohar column)

Dallying with Dylan
If Bacchus were a poet…

(column by Anu Gulmohar)

A life doused in drinks, buried in financial woes, scarred by infidelities infinite, and blessed with a talent, which chiselled to perfection yielded verses both forceful and profound. Dylan Thomas, an irrepressible romantic, dug deep into his world to bring to life poesies that sung of his childhood days, of religion, of war, of relationships and responsibilities and of the shadow of death that mars our carefree lives.

Considered amongst the greatest of 20th century poets, Dylan’s art is annually celebrated at the Dylan Thomas Festival beginning his birth date, October 27. To continue till November 9 at the Dylan Thomas Centre, the Festival will be held across several venues in his native city, Swansea in Wales, with two weeks dedicated to his poetry, his contemporaries and for the first time, the Dylan Thomas Prize worth £60,000 for an original published work by an author under 30.

Dylan’s skills as a wordsmith were largely fuelled by his father's zeal for the English language and his unfulfilled dream of becoming a poet. Dylan’s first poem was published in his school magazine at the age of 11 and some eight years later, one of his poems was even read out on BBC Radio. Soon after, he moved to London where his reputation with alcohol preceded him at parties; even believed to have been bawdy and unruly at times.

Ultimately, it was his romance with liquor that robbed him of his life. His last words would be, “After 39 years, this is all I've done”. Poems, short stories, plays, zillions of words, hundreds of compositions, inspiration to generations as they took to heart his poems like And Death Shall Have No Dominion and Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night… A life littered with messed up relationships and intoxicating poems… Dylan Thomas, a paragon of paradox, a legend of passion...

(End of Anu Gulmohar column)