Not Fat. Not Skinny.

Kartikeya and I have been planning a trip to Greece for a while now. We’ve been saving up, by bits and pieces, at the beginning of each month—when we are both flush with salaried money—and deposit a quarter of the same into a separate savings account. I, for one, have been thoroughly excited because I claim I can finally do what I’ve wanted to do for ages—don a bikini! So, I’ve taken the bull by the horns and have already, rather avidly, started dissecting the internet for every potential swimsuit style. I’ve been looking for the right colours, shapes, sizes and textures, scouting for images for what might look best. Etc., etc. And then it hit me. Each time I typed in any of these search items: Different ways to wear a bikini / Bikini Styles in Fashion / Swimwear 2014… some of the first few articles that show up in that frenzied search are: 10 ways to get a bikini body, OR even: A bikini Boot Camp.

I’m sorry? Bikini Body? Er, bikini boot camp ? I fail to comprehend what comprises one. The idea that in order to don ‘succesfully’ (yes, that was another of the adverbs thrown casually around) a two-piece outfit that helps you preen, pout and laze on a sun-kissed beach (somewhere in Mykonos, in my case), you needed to look a certain way is preposterous. I mean, one of these articles actually claim to turn your body bikini-worthy! What, pray, is a bikini-worthy body? These articles rattle on, supremely unconcerned for arguments of body politics that might be leveraged against them, and talk happily about exercises you must do to tuck your tummy in, sometimes panning the magical eight-week mark—while some go a higher and more ambitious route by announcing a two-week mark, which includes tons of watercress, grapefruit and not much else. These are, of course, accompanied by images of women with long, shapely legs and perfectly concave stomachs with beautifully flowing tresses falling down lithe shoulders. One wonders about the massive female population that must exist—for we know them as friends, colleagues or otherwise—who do not look that flawless, some of whom have post-delivery stretch marks, or simply big-boned genes. One wonders where all this population has amazingly disappeared to.

Don’t get me wrong. There is NOTHING wrong with being healthy. Nothing wrong with a run, a swim, an aerobics class, a Zumba lesson. Nothing wrong either with preferring tomatoes to tortillas, or side salads to Big Macs. What incenses me is the machinery of social body constructs that seem to be functioning all around us, the horrific idea that these articles pose as normal. It is ‘normal’ to post such articles, normal to encourage aspirations to become ‘bikini-worthy’.  What is even horrifying is that the circle itself is a vicious one. While ‘fat-shaming’ (as torchbearers like Cosmo have called it) ruled the roost of cruelty for decades, people picking on pictures of thighs, cellulite and muffin tops showing, today that has quickly been replaced by an equally shocking trend of ‘skinny-shaming’, almost as though someone turned the wheel back around. The same cruel jokes abound, the same Facebook comments which this time, herald the rule of the ‘FAT’ and ruthlessly bring down the ‘THIN’. One does not eat enough, one is told; it is shameful to look that skinny; one must know one is making the other feel bad by looking the way he/she does. Is there no end? The cycle is tiring; we cannot succumb to cyber revenge each time, to lash out at decades of body shaming injustice that have happened before us.

I was once rejected a date by a boy in the eleventh standard, who told my friend to pass on the information to me, that I was ‘too fat’ to be dated. It had crushed and broken the heart of the sixteen-year-old in me. But it had not made me think he was right. Or even comfort myself with the delusion that he was an exception. Years later, when my body reached the opposite side of the spectrum—so to speak—with tons of happy yoga and gym sessions and an active life, away from my family, living in another city—I was shown the light of the other half of comments. I am NOT saying that they are all unfair or cruel, or that a friend may not gently let you know if she thinks you look unfit. But can we restrict it to just that, please? Can UNFIT or UNHEALTHY be our new paradigms, which stand, simply, for people who are above or under their BMIs thus jeopardizing their health, and be allowed the choice to work on it themselves? Can we ban the use of socially scathing words such as fat and skinny for good, and simply be accepting. Yes, they are both just two words. But they are packed and laden with much more power—often unjust power—than we can possibly imagine, and may permanently bruise much more than the body. They may bruise the soul.

---Urmi

Since When Did ‘Kejriwal’ Become a Swear Word?

A most interesting happened to me today while travelling on a Delhi Transport Authority (DTC) bus today.

 

Here I was, on my way to office, when an irate man entered the bus and started yelling at the driver. This man, who I shall name Tweedledum (because I am an English Literature kid) was about 60 years old, and he started yelling at the driver because apparently the driver had started moving the bus when Tweedledum had only kept one foot on the bus. “With great danger to his life” (as he put it), he entered the bus.

 

Now the problem is, both Tweedledum and the driver were at fault. Till a moment ago, the driver was merrily gossiping on his mobile with what seemed like an endless succession of friends. With much, much more than half his attention diverted, and DTC buses being the behemoths that they are, it was a surprise that the bus wasn’t bouncing off the edges of the narrow road we were on.

 

 

 

 

Tweedledum, on the other hand, took his merry time in getting on to the bus, mainly because this 60 year old man was ogling at what were clearly school girls. Or maybe the middle-aged woman sitting next to them. We’ll give him the benefit of doubt on that respect.

 

Anyway, coming to the crux of the matter. Tweedledum started yelling at the driver and the driver calmly ended his call (“Oy yaar, main tujhko thodi der mein call karta hu”) and proceeded to yell back. This went on for a good 5 minutes. Us other passengers, we were terrified. At least when the driver was talking on his phone, he was still looking at the road. Now he kept turning back to yell at Tweedledum, the road be damned.

 

In all of this, Tweedledum started threatening to call the cops (with half the bus groaning, me included, and one cheeky “Arrai uncle, kudi nu dekh na!” coming from somewhere behind me).

 

And that is when the driver gave his pièce de résistance. When Tweedledum threatened to call the cops, he went silent for a moment, gathered his most scornful voice and said, “Kyu bey, Kejriwal hai kya tu? (Why, are you Kejriwal?)”

 

Well, the whole bus (me included) burst out laughing, but what is funny is, it actually worked. Tweedledum got so worked up, he was so indignant at being called ‘Kejriwal’, that he stopped yelling at the driver. He sat in the seat in front of me, kept muttering “Kejriwal kisko bulata hai (How dare he call me Kejriwal)” and that was it. No further reference to his “great danger to his life” was made. It was all lost in affronted at being referred to as ‘Kejriwal’.

 

Which makes me wonder… since when did ‘Kejriwal’ become a swear word?

---Kartikeya

The Grand Old Man of Mexico: Rafa Marquez

Mexico beat Croatia 3-1 in Racife in a thrilling encounter, enabling the North Americans to set up a mouth-watering Round of 16 clash with The Netherlands. A game that only came to life in the second half, both teams controlled the game at regular intervals, yet with Croatia chasing the game all the time – Mexico needed just a draw to qualify as runners-up of Group A – the Balkan country ultimately capitulated in the face of Mexican pressure.

The first half was a half of contradictions. Croatia had clearly more of the ball and had El Tri chasing shadows for most of the half, with the possession stats indicating the European nation had almost 63% of the ball with half an hour played, yet it was Mexico that came closest to scoring. The first chance was a piledriver of a shot from Hector Herrera that beat Croatia ‘keeper Pletikosa completely beaten, only for the ball to bounce off the crossbar. The second chance saw Peralta burst through the Croatian defence with the ball, only to slip on the greasy pitch just as he was about to pull the trigger.

However, the second half was when the game exploded into life. Mexican ‘keeper Ochoa, their saviour in the previous match, had to play the role of the saviour again, denying Mario Manzukic and Ivica Olic in quick succession.

However, a quick break down the right hand flank for Mexico resulted in Peralta sliding the ball for Guardado. Which is when all hell broke loose, the Mexican winger’s shot blocked by Croatian skipper Dario Srna’s arm in the box, yet the Uzbek referee waved the penalty appeals away, instead pointing for a corner. Mexico thought poor refereeing decisions were going to affect their game again. But one man stood strong. The Grand Old Man of Mexico, their captain. Up stepped Rafa Marquez.

As the ball swung in, Marquez leaped as he has never leaped before, all 35 years of him. He planted his head firmly on the ball, guiding it past a despairing Pletikosa. Cue a green explosion at Racife asth eMexican crowd went wild. Guardado and Chicharito added their goals in quick succession as Croatian coach Niko Kovac could only stare in disbelief at the way his team capitulated.

Ivan Perisic thought he had restored some pride by becoming the first player at this World Cup to beat Ochoa, starting and ending a sublime move that came a little too late. But even that consolation goal was spoilt by a reckless lunge by Ante Ravic on the outstanding Moreno, getting the Croatian midfielder sent-off, ending what was an exciting match on a sour note.

“To watch highlights, video on demand, fun moments, skills & dribbles, and live streams of the FIFA World Cup 2014 visitwww.livsports.in now!”

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The Great Wall of Mexico

Guillermo Ochoa had the game of his life as Brazil and Mexico played out a 0-0 draw at Fortaleza tonight. Repeatedly frustrating the Brazilians, Ochoa, along with his central defenders Rafael Marquez and Rodriguez shut out the threat of the home side’s attacks.

Ochoa has had to wait for his turn to don the ‘keepers gloves in the World Cup. Twice previously he had travelled with his country’s contingent – to Germany in 2006 and to South Africa in 2010; both times he was kept warming the bench. Yet the Mexican goalkeeper is very highly regarded in his country, especially by coach Miguel Herrera, and tonight he showed why he is.

Twice in either half he was forced to pull off a stunning save to keep his side in the game, yet by his own reactions and by that of his teammates, he was not doing something extraordinary – he was merely pulling off what for him were routine saves on the biggest stage of them all – at the World Cup in Brazil, against Brazil.

The first save came halfway in the first half, when a cross from Dani Alves found a carelessly marked Neymar at the penalty spot. The Barcelona attacker directed his header at the near post, and on any other day, it would have been a certain goal. But Ochoa had other ideas, leaping sharply to his right and clawing the \ball away from the goal. Later, replays showed how close it was to being a goal –cameras showed that had the ball travelled even a few centimetres more, it would have been a goal. 

The second save came towards the end of the first half, as a cross by Alves was chested down by Thiago Silva, breaking free for Paulinho, who, with the goal at his mercy, suddenly was confronted by the sight of Ochoa bearing down on him. The Tottenham midfielder tried to smash the ball past the keeper but Ochoa stayed strong and the resultant ricochet was cleared easily.

The third save made by Ochoa was probably the best of the lot. A cross in by Bernard from the left was superbly controlled by Neymar, who then shot at goal on the half-volley, yet the Mexican keeper was at hand to deny him again.

Finally the fourth save, around the 80 minute mark, was when a Neymar freekick from near the corner flag was superbly met by Silva, yet Ochoa was able to pull off a reflex save from point blank range.

But it was not all an Ochoa show. Marquez and Rodriguez time and again were there to close down the Brazillian attack, playing a highline which caused Fred to drift offside more often than not. Thursday’s hero Oscar was harried and bullied mercilessly by fullback Moreno and finally Giovani dos Santos, Peralta and later Javier Hernandes and Raul Jiminez, though unable to really cause a lot of problems for Brazil ‘keeper Julio Cesar, kept the former QPR man guessing with potshots from all over the pitch.

At the end of the day, Brazil will reflect on the match as 2 points dropped, with Mexico will be more than happy with the night’s result. All eyes will be on tomorrow’s game between Croatia and Cameroon. If Cameroon wins, Mexico are virtually guaranteed a place in the next round as Cameroon’s final game is against Brazil. If Croatia wins, Mexico just need a draw to see them to the round of 16.

“To watch highlights, video on demand, fun moments, skills & dribbles, and live streams of the FIFA World Cup 2014 visitwww.livsports.in now!” 

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Fingers pointed at refereeing as Mexico beat Cameroon

Mexico beat Cameroon 1-0 in what was ultimately a close encounter in a crucial Group A game of the World Cup. A drenched afternoon in Natal, which saw tropic storm-like conditions, proved to have a very exciting game, where the ball was pinged from end to end.

Poor refereeing decisions plagued the first game between Brazil and Croatia and this game was no different, which saw 3 goals being chalked off in the first half, arguably two incorrectly. Mexico was livid to see two legitimate goals chalked out and seeing the ultimate scoreline of 1-0 in favour of the North American country must have come as a relief to Fifa most of all in what is supposed to be their showpiece tournament.

It was a bittersweet day for Giovani dos Santos. He may have ended up on the winning side but at a personal level, he has every right to feel aggrieved. Twice the ex-Barcelona player managed to get beyond his marker and twice the referee chalked off the effort. Mexico coach Miguel Herrera was apoplectic with the Columbian referees, but kept on urging his team forward, using their energy to break down what was at best a shaky Cameroon defence.

While the first disallowed goal was touch and go, with dos Santos just being onside but the second goal chalked off was a farce. A Mexico corner was headed on by Cameroon’s Eric Chupa-Moting to dos Santos, who managed to twist his body midair to head the ball into the net. Yet for reasons unknown, the Columbian referee deemed it offside.

Ultimately though, Mexico managed to get a breakthrough via Peralta, latching on to the ball after dos Santos's effort was merely parried by the keeper Charles Itanje. He lurked just behind the defence as dos Santos sashayed his way through the Cameroon defence, and though his shot was straight at Itanje, the America striker was at hand to fire the ball into an empty net.

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Pain for Spain as Netherlands score five

The Netherlands crushed Spain in their opening World Cup game as a brace apiece from Robin van Persie and Arjen Robben helped the Dutch come from behind to win 5-1 at the Arena Fonte Nova in Salvador.

Spain, the defending champions were attempting to do what the previous three winners of the World Cup had not been able to do – win the first match of the next edition. They were, or rather are, an experienced lot. Seven of the starting eleven played in last edition’s final in Johannesburg and between them, they boasted an impressive 862 caps, with only Cesar Azpelacueta and Diego Costa having played less than 10 games for their country.

In contrast, the Dutch team had been completely revamped from the brutal final four years ago. Only four players – van Persie, Robben, Wesley Sneijder and Nigel de Jong still survived from that team. The team had 422 caps between them; cut out the aforementioned four, and that figure would drop to a meagre 88 caps.

The game started off in typical fashion, with Spain dominating possession while the Dutch, in remembrance of Johannesburg, still seemed to harbour a fondness for Spanish heels and shins. It seemed only a matter of time before the breakthrough would come, and it finally did, through a soft penalty.

Costa raced to a through ball from Xavi and finding himself all alone, conned Dutch defender Steven De Vrij to give away a foul, collapsing almost theatrically. Referee Nicola Rozzi had no choice but to point to the spot, much to the chargin of the Oranje and of the spectators, who were booing Costa for choosing Spain over his native Brazil.

Up stepped Xabi Alonso to take the penalty, and despite Robben’s hastily whispered instructions to his ‘keeper Cillessen, the ex-Liverpool player tucked away his shot with ease. 1-0 to Spain.

They almost doubled their lead when an Andres Iniesta pass sliced open the Dutch defence, with David Silva racing onto the ball, but the Manchester City maestro was unable to score. And that perhaps was the turning point of the game.

Towards the end of the half, the Spanish perhaps became a little lax, allowing Danny Blind too much time and space as he pinged a ball forward. No one was marking van Persie as he launched himself in the air before looping a beautiful header over the stranded Spanish ‘keeper Iker Casillas and into the net.

Not that the Spanish learned from their mistake. Less than 10 minutes into the second half, another long ball by Blind found Robben, who beautifully controlled the ball  before taking both centre halves out of the game, shooting past Casillas and putting Holland into the lead.

After that it was all Oranje. A silly freekick near the corner allowed Sniejder to float a ball to the far post where De Vrij bundled it home for his first ever international goal, before a backpass from Ramos found Casillas napping – he took a heavy touch, allowing the ball to bounce away from him and to a gleaming van Persie, who toe-poked into the net for his second and his country’s fourth.

Towards the end, Iker Casillas cast a forlorn figure. One of the most respected goalkeepers in world football, he was made to look silly by Robben, a player that his club, Real Madrid had cast off years ago. His central defenders Sergio Ramos and Gerard Pique were in shock: Ramos looked like he wanted to just sink into the ground while Pique looked longingly towards the tunnel – anything to get off the pitch. The scoreboard read 5-1, the clock 80 minutes. A ball from Blind inside his own penalty area found Robben near the halfway mark, he beat three Spanish defenders for pace before toying with Casillas, gyrating this way and that way before slaloming the ball into the net.

The game was summed up when substitute Fernando Torres found himself in space towards the 90 minute mark. He was in acres of space, with only the goalkeeper to beat, but waited so long that defender Ron Vlaar managed to poke the ball away. Spain could not even score another consolation goal.

Spain will need a miracle to recover from this shock. They next face Chile, which will be a tricky tie at the best of times. And with a fiercely partisan crowd to be expected, lets hope they don’t suffer another shocker.

“To watch highlights, video on demand, fun moments, skills & dribbles, and live streams of the FIFA World Cup 2014 visit www.livsports.in now!”

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When Delhi sang in Kannada

It happened on a whim. We just happened to be hanging around on a Sunday evening when one of our friends, Prasid, happened to call us to ask whether we want to go for a gig. Now, this being the final day of the Delhi leg of the NH7 festival, I was feeling slightly guilty because I didn’t go (even though all this time I was adamant I didn’t want to go because of the poor quality of the line-ups). Thus when Prasid asked us if we wanted to go, I didn’t need much convincing and ‘persuaded’ Urmi to come along.

The gig was the final day of the SAARC music festival, held at the Purana Qila. We were a little bit late because we stopped on our way for late lunch/early dinner at Flaming Wok, CR Park (a brilliant, brilliant meal, but that’s another story!) so by the time we reached the venue, it was already quite dark and the gig was in its third act – The Susmit Sen Chronicles.

Dark. That is what the venue was. Good luck to all of you with night blindness. Ask me if there were 500 people there or 2500. Go on, ask me! I literally have no clue. Sitting in office on Monday, I found out that there were at least 2 of my colleagues who had also attended the concert, and they probably passed within a few feet of me, but I had no idea. Running into Prasid was pure fluke.

But enough of my bitching. Back to the concert.

To be fair, I probably expected a little too much from Susmit Sen Chronicles. The ex-Indian Ocean guitarist was quite brilliant with his old band, but he seemed poor, almost – dare I use the word – hesitant, on stage. The vocalist sang alright I suppose, but his was a voice “to lead a chorus”, as Urmi put it, not to stand out, to make one stop and really listen. But then again, I am a biased observer, at least as far as this topic is concerned.

Next up was Nepali rock band, Albatross. Singing in their native tongue, the crowd nevertheless enjoyed their songs quite a lot, pumping their fists at some of their heavier riffs and humming along with their softer tunes – obviously, hardly anyone knew the lyrics. However, it did prove that age-old saying about music transcending all boundaries – everyone pretty much seemed to enjoy their music. One of the most memorable moments of the evening was when the vocalist of Albatross, Sirish, requested the organisers to switch off the stage lights. He then asked everyone to light their mobile screens and wave their mobiles at the stage. It was breathtakingly beautiful, made all the better by the slow melody that the
band was playing.

And finally the last act – Raghu Dixit. I am ashamed to admit that this was my first ever time at a Raghu Dixit concert. Yes, yes, I know, it’s despicable and I should probably give up my right to call myself a music aficionado. But still, the important point is that I finally broke my duck and went for a Raghu Dixit concert. And. It. Was. So. Worth. It!

I won’t go into the nitty-gritty of it... just believe me when I say that it was a superb concert. The way Raghu Dixit engages his audience is brilliant! There is one particular song of his that he sings in Kannada, Lokada Kalaji, that basically translates to “don’t worry, be happy, but if you worry, I won’t give a damn!” It is this with this song that he really engaged with the crowd, making them sing in Kannada and basically joking about how he should be made the Karnataka CM because he made a whole group of Delhites speak in Kannada.

Jokes apart though, it was a fun night. And Raghu Dixit has, in Urmi and me, gained two fans for life!

---Kartikeya