Of All the Nobel Gestures!

This Friday morning I woke up to the stunning news - Obama had claimed the biggest prize there is, a Nobel for Peace. A joke, many have called it. But I'm not laughing. Call me foolish, but in my book somehow reward follows action. Awarding great intentions and not much else has pretty much taken the shine out of the Nobels for me.

The story in New York Times summed it up best when it said that the decision caught even the White House off guard.

Sure, there are serious problems facing the world that need addressing, by someone with an eye on the big picture. And maybe, given time and the right advisors, Obama might make major strides in forging peace. But equally important, there exist in the world, pockets of massive strife and unrest. Illness and inequality. Hunger and homelessness. Afghanistan is a small country with big problems. Colombia is dealing with a mountain of an issue. The scale of HIV/ AIDS in China is a cause large enough to demand the world's attention, even without the highly recognizable candidatures. And they picked a man with great ideas but little yet to show for them.

But maybe I shouldn't complain. After all, Gandhi and Churchill missed the final cut (for Peace) but Stalin, Hitler and Mussolini were amongst the nominees.

What next? For 2010, I'm thinking Michael Jackson. Peace, maybe Literature - take your pick. After all, the world is Black or White...

My Plea to Facebook

I like Facebook. No two ways about it.

FB has connected me with friends long lost - at least to me. Their photos and vidoes are great. Messaging and status updates are fun. People post amazing, sometimes insightful stuff picked up elsewhere on the web. A fast, happy way of being in touch.

But here's my problem. Facebook has gone application happy. And guess what, just about everyone with the smarts to write code has taken them up on it. Being bombarded with useless info on who took which quiz is not my idea of connecting.

Don't get me wrong. I'm glad that many of my friends are testing positive for all sorts of things; some are destined for fame and fortune. They resemble no less than the most happening dude (or dudette); others whose karmic soul is calm and blessed. There are vocabulary aces and movie trivia kings. Yay for all of you.

It's just that I don't really need to know all of that. And on any given day when I look up my FB Home page to find out what's going on with my friends, could Facebook please spare me the outcomes of inane tests. Thanks but no thanks. There might be folks who just take a quiz for fun, and don't necessarily want to broadcast the fact to a hundred friends that their lover-like potential was rated way short of Don Juan's. For that matter, a Lazy Mind test I took elsewhere indicated that I use only 8% of my brain, but do you really think I want to advertise that little tit-bit.

Luckily for me, once I discovered the 'Hide' option on FB, things are much improved.

Still, one wonders that with the time and imagination some people have, what might be the next test they could come up with.

Guesses, anyone?

Hello Again!

It's been a long time away. And I have a ready list of excuses too. The muse - such as it is - dried up on me. Or life got in the way. Been too busy.

Happy to say that all of the above were true. Plus, haven't had a whole lot to say, but when has that, you might ask, ever stopped me.

So I guess I'm back. Like they say - for better or worse.

Time will tell.

I Wish, You Wish...

Don't we all want to be in perfect shape, preferably with zilch effort.

No, this is not an idle question.

Ok, I admit it. The sins of the past - or at least the last few weeks, months actually, but who's counting - seem to have caught up with me.

It's like this. The holiday season rolled by like the icing on my cake, and with it came some serious partying. Every manner of indulgence - picture the 30 something family types and their idea of fun. For us that usually means stirring as little as possible; we entertain, but sample all offerings generously beforehand, then there's eating out, take outs, yada, yada. And of course, when other people cook, one eats. Can't disappoint the host now, can you.

Food, drink, snacks, desserts, late nights, no nights, movie marathons, you name it, we did it. Basically, calorie central for the couch cucumbers.

If there's food, can the pounds be far behind? A few weeks of fun and what a price one pays. Eventually, the pinpricks of conscience managed to sting the ever so thickening hide.

Shedding the inertia, and armed with firm resolve, I hit the gym, finally. But the reality check came rather swiftly, and very rudely at that. Thirty elliptical minutes later I was gasping like a beached whale, hoping to be carried, if not to my car then at least the nearest water fountain. The lady at our local Y told me that apparently enrolments and attendance at the fitness center go up hugely every January. Aha! At least I'm not the only guilt-bitten one. Except, in my case, the laziness pre-dates a lot longer.

But never mind that. So thrilled was I by my foray onto the treadmill, I came home and decided not to let the leftover mango pudding go to waste. It tasted great, even if I say so myself.

One measly week into the New Year and I'm feeling philosophical already - frankly, it's no use sweating the small stuff.

Like they say - whatever (flab) will be, will be.

Body & Soul

It's a rare something that will meld both - literally.

I'm talking about the Cirque du Soleil. Suffice to say, it's not another circus. Just like Everest isn't just another bump on the face of the Earth.

I'd tried, unsuccessfully, to see a Cirque performance for many years. The pleasure, when I got my chance, was only made sweeter when K surprised me with great seats to Wintuk, the only show running in the New York area.

Wintuk tells a story. It is the celebration of winter; in a town, with a season incomplete without snow. About a boy and his buddies who set out north to bring it home. But first, they must overcome their inner fears. In its own funny and gravity defying way, this is a tale of personal quests, of magic and marvel. Where the acrobats fly, (human) canines flop with perfect doggy grace, with acts of contortion that often seem unreal. Hoops that hula, jugglers who mesmerize and flirty light poles that come to life at the oddest moments. The stage throbs to the beats of live music and seamless acts of sheer artistry.

There's laughter, there's wonder and every so often gasps of disbelief from the mere mortals. With our eyes darting rapidly from one end of the stage to another - there was so much going on - all we could ask was - did that really just happen?

(Spoiler alert here:)
Yes, the story has a happy ending. With the light, come the tears of the sun - snow to Jamie's town. But it's not just the characters who get their heart's desire.  In the finale, as the drama soars to a crescendo, the entire auditorium is showered with snowflakes. Winter, it seems, is here after all. And with it is self discovery, freedom, and that tiny thing called joy.

We left the show smiling, enthralled with the effortless mastery, clutching our own wisps of snow. The promise of an afternoon's worth of thrills had turned out to be so, so much more.

What more can I say? You had to be there.

To Choose a Star

India seems to have made its pick - Taare Zameen Par (TZP) is its official entry for the Oscars.

That the movie was chosen wasn't really a surprise. And then again it was. The latter first - it's simply that the committee's picks usually look like no-brainers to most. A no-brainer for elimination, that is. Now, maybe not all Bollywood movies are international fare, but come on, every so often the desi directors get it right. So maybe a little less lobbying (by the big banners) and a lot more thought (on the part of the Indian jury) might do the trick.

In all fairness, it's not that good movies haven't made their way to the Foreign Film category. It's the other, rather odd choices that makes one question basic things like the sanity of the selectors. Don't take my word for it - see for yourself.

Right there with superior movies like Manthan and Earth, we have nominated opuses like Paheli and Henna; and can you even believe this - Saagar. Could someone please tell me what part of Dimple's chiffon clad beach number was Oscar worthy? Or how about Kamal Haasan's bout of self-indulgence - Hey Ram. Ack, what a waste. The rules allow just one entry per country, pretty unfair to prolific movie making countries like India and China; France and Italy. I mean, doesn't this put India in the same filmi bracket as Iceland. Or maybe that's why we pick what we do - to keep the others competitive.

TZP seems like a sensible choice in a year with some good options like Black and White and A Wednesday. A simple and solid story with middle-class appeal that addresses a universal issue - our denial of disability. An unusual protagonist. Few we-gotta-fit-these-in songs. Emotions that tug rather than wrench. I loved the fact that Aamir Khan accorded his audience the courtesy of intelligence - we don't really need to be talked down to.

A lot of people liked many different things about the movie, but what especially stayed with me was a dialogue between the Art teacher and the dyslexic boy's father. The teacher - Aamir - mentions that in the Solomon Islands when the tribal folk want to get rid of a tree, instead of cutting it down, they just hurl abuses at it day after day. Within a few weeks, he said, the tree just wilts and dies. The analogy, extended to a child's tender psyche is not hard to grasp. So little said, and yet so much.

And the Oscar goes to..... we won't know for a while. But at least this time around India won't be laughed out of the screening room.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

It was a University of Georgia study that got me thinking. The story claims that Facebook profiles of people can be used to detect narcissism.

The researchers found that the number of Facebook friends and wallposts that individuals have on their profile pages correlates with narcissism. Buffardi said this is consistent with how narcissists behave in the real-world, with numerous yet shallow relationships. Narcissists are also more likely to choose glamorous, self-promoting pictures for their main profile photos, she said, while others are more likely to use snapshots.

More on the study here.

Makes you think, doesn't it. Or cause guilt, outrage, denial, and for some, pride at being above such weakness.

It maybe the truth, but is it the whole truth?

Personal appearances can be important, or they can be an obsession. No wonder cosmetics is a huge industry. Friends in print advertising say that one of the big creative challenges is touching up to perfection, the photographs of supermodels, which were shot by pros to start with.

Well thanks, that's comforting to hear - really, do the rest of the mere mortals even have a chance? Or with standards so impossible is it any wonder that so many of us are killing ourselves to get somewhere in the striking range.

While living in Canada where health-care is state sponsored - a can of worms I shall not touch any more than this veriest mention - we once received the annual health ministry update which indicated that, as a part of cutbacks, Cosmetic Surgery was no longer going to be included in basic benefits.

My first reaction was - whoa, what a blow. Gee, I was so looking forward to going under the knife, till the health department rained on my party. But then I paused to reflect - maybe enough people had felt the need to take advantage of this benefit. And why not - if it works for you, great - revisiting youth or gaining a slimmer self is at least a possibility now.

The question then is - how much is this desire for perfection narcissism and how much is it about self-image.

One might not aspire to beauty crowns, but what's wrong in the wanting to preserve memories of our more beautiful selves. Especially on social network sites like Facebook or Myspace where one might meet friends you haven't seen for a while - is it really a crime to post your best photos?  For most, high school or college reunions are as much about showing off how good they look as it is about how rich or successful they are. And again, why not.

Ok - so narcissim is a dirty word, right there with greed and sloth. Call it what you will, I think some amount of  personal pride is healthy, even inevitable. Which is why portrait studios flourish. Why so many people buy fitness equipment they may not even use much. Why it is a minor tragedy if you're sitting at home on a Saturday night instead of with being out with a dozen friends.

If narcissism exists, it's because we are programmed to think in those terms.

Isn't it natural to foster self-image in a society that tends to evaluate success through social standing, or studies galore that have concluded that better looks will get you hired faster, get you a date more easily, ensure better service, win you more friends.

That said, how far we carry this desire for beauty is up to us entirely.

There's no fairy tale ending here. Whoever has the answers, I'm guessing it's not your mirror.

An Ace deServes

Nothing, they say, succeeds quite like success. Sometimes, the reverse is true too.

Look at all the sporting heroes whose achievements take on  iconic status thanks to the Press. The stars get to feed off the adulation but also need to survive the caustic public glare, should they fall short.

Now, Roger Federer didn't have the best of seasons. Lack of a coach, a bout of mononucleosis and possibly a general ebb in form seem to have contributed. After garnering a string of superlatives that others can only aspire to, the stardust seemed to have deserted him somewhat. In the locker rooms too, his aura has diminished, and pretty much everyone claimed that they had a shot at beating him. And they did too. Complacent fans, concerned off-late, have been cheering him on with anxious frenzy or shaking their heads at losses that used to be a cakewalk in the past. The Press has played its usual will-he or can't-he game, mostly leaning towards the latter.

Sure, he fell short - at least by his past standards. But at the end of the day, it's a matter of perspective. As a bunch of admittedly less successful players have said - we'll take his kind of year, anyday. One semi and 2 grand slam finals ain't no small change.

If you're getting the sense here that I'm a Federer fan, you would be right. Not just for his near legend status, or his elegant stroke play which is a treat to watch, but also the fact that if the off-court stories are to be believed, he is a genuinely nice guy.

But the bottomline is - in popular opinion, you're as good as your latest result, or a string of them.

Of course, the secret of winning lies in talent, form, training. But it's also a great deal about mental strength. Which is where the detractors had a field day. Roger, they said, wasn't tough inside, wasn't strong enough to tide this career setback. He'd cruised while the going was good. But no more. Finito.

Was the golden run over, then? Would the struggling champ rise, ever?

The answer - a decided yes. Risen he has, with a US Open performance that seemed sometimes gritty and effortless at others. And on occasion, even vintage Fedex.

There's no denying that Roger fed off the momentum that came from being at the top of his game. Each win spurred new victories, more confidence. But my question is - didn't it take strength and tenacity to win in the first place; and to sustain those wins. Like everybody else, Federer didn't start out a winner. He had to fight to get there. So why doubt his courage when he encountered a few break points enroute.

It may be early days yet, but it looks like he's still got what it takes. If anything, the past year should prove that not only can he win from the top, but also come back from three slams down. Survive being labeled a has-been. Vulnerable, he might be, but that's a long way from being vanquished.

For every naysayer, there are many who believe he still has many more Slams inside him yet.

Roger that!

Game, Set, Match!

By average standards K & I are what people in polite circles call sports fans.

Don't blame me - years with an ESPN mad spouse rub off. Still, yours truly is a little more tempered in her zeal. But hubby watches the majors and  the minors, tracks everything from college draft picks to league players in cricket. Checks scores and updates about as often as he 'blackberrys'  - basically, every other minute. Heck, he even watches (and I say this with all respect) Lacrosse and Curling.

Given all this, we've managed to surprise ourselves with how few sporting events we've actually seen on location. It's like our friends, fellow Formula One fans - who after living for years in the US, (where there's easy access to 2 GPs at Indy and Montreal), when they actually got to see a race, one was in Australia and the other's catching the action at Singapore.

We, naturally, haven't been to any. Given the karmic logic in these things, I guess, for us it'll be Shanghai.

Not that we don't have a handy list of excuses for our lapses - lack of time, lack of prior planning, event clash... Then there's always the up-close that TV viewing gives you, not to mention the joy of replays and commentary.

But still.

K's madness is relatively universal, but I simply love watching Tennis. Watch most of the majors, eagerly and often bleary-eyed into the wee hours.  But all on TV, except  for a few smaller events.

One fine day though, the dry spell ended. On our visit to London this summer, one of the major trip hightlights was watching Wimbledon. The matches were fun; greater was the thrill of being there - in this case the grass was indeed greener across the pond. We came back happy, determined to mend the error of our ways. So plans were made well in advance - finally - and off we went this week, to watch the early rounds of the US Open. Caught a bunch of fantastic matches, basked in the excitement of being at Flushing and came home oh so content.

The curse, as they say, was over.

But sometimes, even the third time is a charm.

A friend emailed us - he had a couple tickets to the Men's semis next weekend - by any chance would we be interested.

Damn right, my friend! Are we going. Or are we going.

The Politics of Speech

All hype and rhetoric apart, Hillary Clinton's was possibly the most awaited speech of the Democratic Convention. Primarily because of the x-factor at play. No love lost, lots of residual bitterness, a VP nomination that wasn't and twenty six million other reasons. Very simply, everyone wondered what she was going to say.

And Hillary delivered. In style too.

To me what was interesting, even admirable, was the way she finessed this one. Read between the lines. She hit all the right notes. Strong sentiment, a strike-at-the-heart-message and lots of mass appeal.

But nowhere was the ringing candidate endorsement that's typical of such convention speeches. She mentioned Obama exactly once in the beginning and a few times towards the end of her speech. She touched upon the hot topics but most of those were her rather than his manifestos. It was about her campaign, her beliefs and mostly her achievements.

Clinton got the crowds going, no doubt, but she skillfully directed plenty of footage to the podium, actually. A masterstroke, I say. Self-serving, but honest too. If there's no affection between her and Obama, or not much at any rate, why pretend. If Michelle O seemed less than pleased at the proceedings, tough love. Bill Clinton on the other hand, looked both proud and emotional, and with good reason too.

Hillary said:

I haven't spent the past 35 years in the trenches advocating for children, campaigning for universal health care, helping parents balance work and family and fighting for women's rights here at home and around the world . . . to see another Republican in the White House squander our promise of a country that really fulfills the hopes of our people.

(Courtesy: CNN.com)

A fantastic example of getting your point across and yet have people hear what they want to. Even if the two aren't the same.

In a sum, what she endorsed was not Barack Obama, but the Democrat incumbent. Not the best candidate between him and McCain - but the lesser of the two evils.

At the end of it, what stayed in my mind was not how great Obama would be as Prez, but what a pity that she wasn't  the contender - very likely the reaction Clinton was shooting for. If Obama loses, guess who'll be lurking prominently in the trenches. And in people's collective memories.

Moral of the story - sometimes you might not have the cake. But don't lose the chance at a bite.