On a little finger

The little fingers…
The loveliest and cutest among your ten fingers…
How much do you care for them?

You put your thumbs up to cheer a friend. Your pointing finger, as the name shows, helps you point at something. These two along with the middle finger help you write. The fourth one is your ring finger (precious indeed) which along with the previous ones helps you do a variety of tasks.
But what is the little finger good for? Haven’t you ever thought that it is some unnecessary organ like the Appendix, which doesn’t make any difference even if cut off?
Hence, you have never given much of a consideration for your cute little fingers. Moreover you associated it with silliness at times.
“Oh I just need to move my little finger for that”, you say when you are assigned a difficult task and want to express how easy it is for you.
But believe me, moving your little finger is not a silly task as it may seem to be. Those two cute fingers are capable of stealing your sleep off you.

My encounter with the little fingers started with a feeble, unrecognizable pain at the joints while moving them. I never took it seriously as it didn’t affect my day to day activities. One fine morning my right little finger developed an unbearable pain. My experiment with a pain killer cum anti inflammatory tablet failed and the pain stopped me from writing or typing any more (means for daily bread!).
My medical interne room mate stretched her helping hands by providing some self prescribed medicines in the evening (she rarely gets a good specimen to experiment!!), regardless of which the pain intensified during the night, smartly snatching my sleep away from me.
My roommate, awakened by my cries in the morning was alarmed at the sight of my swollen hand passed a comment that it might be rheumatoid arthritis and referred me to her professor in the medical college!!!
I never wanted to meet a doctor. My room mate said that one need to test the blood from the joint in case of the above mentioned problem (still scared of the needle, isn’t it better not to meet a doc?). But this one is a homeopath (the sweetness of all those tiny medicine balls I had in the childhood rush into the memory) and is rather safe, I thought.

After an hour long wait in the corridor and the question answer session with the would-be docs, I was introduced to a panel consisting of both veterans and ‘kutty’ doctors. The panel investigated for 10 minutes and prescribed a few desirably sweet medicines, but leaving me clueless of what the problem is. By the time the condition had worsened to such an extend that I couldn’t even move my hand for six days.

Temporarily crippled and unable to perform basic day to day activities from brushing the teeth to taking bath to changing the dress, I decided to go back home (to the care and comfort of mommy). Helped by the good old room mate in packing, I set out to the railway station early the next morning. With the pain mounting, even hiring a vehicle and purchasing the tickets were like visits to hell (Well I haven’t seen one, have you?). Comfortably seated near the window I had time enough (five long hours) to care and caress my little finger (in clear view of the fellow passengers who had plenty of sympathy in stock).

Rushing back from her duties at her office, Mommy’s attempts to take me to the family doctor failed (No..it will be ok for tomorrow.. I’ve met a doctor… He’ll ask me to do the blood test…ha ha ha) and thankfully the pain subsided by evening.

No…the story isn’t over…
As the right hand is immovable, all the activities were done with the left hand. While lending a formal helping hand to mommy in kitchen (believe it or not) the left little finger accidentally hit the kitchen slab opening a new episode of the fingery tale.
Following the footsteps of its predecessor, this finger too developed a severe ache for the next day.

Being a master in attracting attention and sympathy, I could easily get hold of mommy’s attention with my caressing, massaging and little shrieks occasionally. At last she made up her mind to take the matter seriously.
Mom: Show it. Let me see how it looks like.
Me: That’s fine, but don’t touch.
Mom: How can I examine it without touching (hey, she isn’t a doc, mind it…)
Me: No, you tell me what to do. I’ll do it myself (trying to be brave)
Mom: Ok then, show me the gap between the little finger and the ring finger. Let me see how much the slab has hurt you (Ehm…)
Me: I told you no? It’s very painful to move, let alone separating the fingers! (smart eh?)
Mom: See, this wont work, show me your hand (pulling in forcefully towards her)
Me: Please, please, don’t do anything, its very painful (serious this time)
Mom: Let me see what will happen (separates the two fingers, but carefully)

What followed was beyond the descriptive limits of my language. Both of us wondered where that shrill, loud shriek (or yell) came from. Tears flowed out of my eyes like rivers, beyond control. I had just experienced the greatest pain in my life.
Mommy didn’t know what to do for a while. On the other hand, I was trying to control the cry fruitlessly, at the same time thinking how to bring down the unimaginable pain triggered by the separation of the fingers. But mommy didn’t think much.
“Get ready, let’s go to the hospital”, the order was passed, with no opposition this time.

The good old lady doctor was pretty jovial and prescribed some tablets followed by a comment: “It’s better to get some painkiller injected if the pain is too much”. Think of devil and devil is here. What to do now? My efforts to object failed and the deed was decided to be done with mommy’s assistance.
I closed my eyes at the very sight of the big needle; despite the subsided giggles of the nurses (well…it’s their birth right, why should I mind?). The closing became airtight when the needle touched the skin of the outer palm. It pierced in slowly forming a realization that it’s not as painful as an ant bite. But why are they not taking it away?
“Hasn’t she had any food today?” that’s the nurse’s voice.
“Oh yes! She has had enough at noon”, mommy’s reply.
“Then why isn’t the medicine going in?”

You guessed right…My veins had stopped functioning out of fear.
Somehow, the nurse managed to send the medicine into my circulatory system and the pain subsided in an hour.

* * *
Back at office after a long vacation (as I never used to take leave for more than three days consecutively), there were a number of admirers waiting to see those two little fingers that taught me a hard lesson not to under estimate even your little finger. So, next time when you have a light task to do, seek something else for help, but not the little fingers.

Descendants of Holmes

Agurchand Mansion on the Mount Road, Chennai is an ancient-looking building in polished red brick that on-look a busy junction. A flight of stairs, amidst a row of artifact and electronic equipment shops, takes you to a narrow corridor that branches out in four directions. Any first time visitor to this place will be perplexed to see a variety of pointers that welcomes you to the security, recruitment or investigation wings of several detective agencies.

Once you push open one of the half doors, you are in an air-conditioned small room where an ever smiling young lady usually welcomes you with a “May I help you sir/ madam?” She asks for the purpose of your visit, shows you to a chair if you need to wait, brings you coffee or tea (needn’t expect anything else)....Hello! You are in a detective agency! At least three of them work from these dark corridors.

Unless you have a previous association with detectives, you may expect to meet a brainy man, who doesn’t care to keep himself clean, but extracts all secrets through your eyes. But the person you’ll be meeting here is a clean professional, at your service, whether it is a case of your teenager son not attending his school or minor thefts in your neighbourhood.

But most ‘detective agencies’ in the city are actually agencies that recruit and post industrial security guards on contract basis. “The employees are recruited on the basis of just willingness and are given a weeklong training, usually on the type of work they have to do, how to deal with particular circumstances, etc. They further have an on job training after which they are given identity cards and are posted at some industry or corporate office”, says Anthony Amalraj, Manager, Operations, Raj Detective Agency.

However, some of them have investigation wings too, usually handled by experienced detectives, ex- military or police officers. Major Pattabhiraman of Globe Detective Agency and Benjamin Theogaraj of Raj DetectiveAgency are two major players in the field. Private Investigation & Surveillance, Asset Verification, Pre / Post Matrimonial Enquiry, Pre / Post Employment Screening, Industrial Thefts / Frauds, Infringement of Trade Marks, Market Survey, Investigation into While Collar Crimes, Competitors’ Activity...reads the list posted on the walls of most receptions. Globe also has a special wing that deals with Burglar Alarm Systems, Fire Alarm Systems, Access Control Systems and Fire Fighting Systems.

Star detective Agency is reputed to have an exclusive women’s wing of detectives led by A.M. Malathy, South India’s first woman detective. An engineering graduate, she started doing it for fun and later became a full time detective. “A woman has access to many areas where men are forbidden. You can even pass off as an ordinary house wife”, she said when asked about the advantages of being a woman. Globe too has a good number of lady detectives working for it in its various branches around the country. Investigation is no more a monopoly of men!

Gender, family and caste

Family plays a major role in defining a person’s gender. It starts from childhood when we dress up boys and girls differently. Children are raised in such a way that they are conscious of their gender in every phase of their life. The difference is pronounced from the way a girl and a boy dress to the way they behave, walk or speak.
A girl child is brought up with certain norms of femininity and female sexuality injected to her. She covers her body parts, sits, walks and speaks in a so called gentle manner and maintains a distance while dealing with men. This is not done intentionally to confine themselves to the gender norms, but is a way of asserting themselves as respectable women. On the other hand, boys are expected to be brave and tough. They are to be the bosses at home and the qualities required are nourished in them from the childhood. While the girl child helps the mother in the kitchen, a boy goes out and fetches necessary articles, even escorts his mother at times. However, as the family has its influence on a person’s gender identity, this identity in turn influences the familial practices.
A family’s anxiety begins before a child is born; whether it is a boy or a girl. If it is a boy, he’ll be the heir to the family name and property. He’ll only inherit the traditional skills of the family. He’s the one who’s going to protect the parents when they are old and is the one who does their death-related rituals. Hindu scriptures say that a person who doesn’t have a son to perform his rituals will not gain heaven. Hence the urge for a boy child in a family is immense.
On the other hand, a girl child is a huge responsibility to the other members of the family (reason for female foeticide). The mother is concerned in inducing the expected feminine qualities in her and preparing her mentally and physically to become part of another household. She teaches her the household duties like cooking and cleaning. On the other hand, the father and brother (particularly if he is elder to the girl) are concerned about finding a suitable man for her. Most religions pronounce that the father’s soul will not rest in peace if he dies before marrying off his daughter. The elder brother similarly has a very high responsibility on her life. Many a time, brothers don’t get married if their sisters are still at home.
The institution of marriage is very central in building up the kin network. The larger one’s kin network, the higher the person’s status in that particular circle. Relations are created using women at home. Here, women are objects manipulated by the men to expand their kin network. Any action by the women against this manipulation is viewed as one against the ‘family good’. Thus, a woman marries not just a man, but a whole family and a kin network through him. Her every action in the marital household influences the familial relationships and it is her duty to preserve the integrity and pride of her parental household by means of her fair dealings with the in-laws.
A popular Malayalam proverb says, “Wars are plenty in this world due to two reasons- woman and gold”. What if both are equivalent? In most civilizations, women are considered wealth. They can be gifted to some one whose favour you seek and can be looted or kidnapped when you invade a place. In all myths, conflicts of clans are due to women.
On the other hand, the chastity of a woman is very central to the integrity of the family as well as the clan/kin network. In the fishing communities of the south there is a myth that it is a woman’s chastity that keeps her man safe out in the sea and that once she loses it, the whole community will have to suffer the wrath of the sea goddess. This is why communities chose molestation of woman of other communities (for example during the partition) as a weapon to induce shame on the other. A lower caste man’s elopement with an upper caste woman is a great shame to both the castes, especially to the girl’s family and badly affects its status in the kin and caste network. The ultimate attempt of a family to avenge such a humiliation is what usually results in honour killings.
Woman’s social status is defined only on the basis of marriage. Women are considered guardians of family and community order, purity and status in all South Asian religions. The control of marriage, particularly of girls, is central in bounding and saving the community. But working women usually cause a problem in these bindings. Their urge for higher education is viewed with suspicion in the kin network.
In north India, marriages are usually made to far away places and hence the woman is geographically separated from her near and dear and thus gets incorporated in the husband’s family in a more intense fashion. But in the south, marriages usually occur within one’s own family or village and this strengthens the kin network more. Here the women have a greater chance to negotiate her rights since her parental household is geographically close enough to support her in need. But in certain brahminical households, though the couple stay at the wife’s kin circle, when there is a problem, it is the man’s voice that gets prominence.
The kinship and caste networks usually overlap. The married woman’s nature is central to the existence of both. They are very hard to maintain and at anytime may be disrupted by a divorce. Another factor that disrupts it is Similarly, a marriage can also create a hierarchy even between close cross kin who had been social equals. For example, marrying daughters to a superior family upgrades a family in the network.
However, most norms regarding one’s gender identity undergoes changes with respect to the class and caste. For example, the chastity is an ideal for only the upper caste women while the lower caste is always vulnerable to sexual atrocities of the upper caste men. In certain clans, a lower caste woman accompanies a bride to her marital household and is bound to serve the sexual needs of the men there. It is this class of women who usually form the category of Ganikas or Devadasis who are actually women of art, but usually misinterpreted as sexually available women. Thus a family frames a person’s gender while the gender in turn influences the very existence of the family and others related to it. Class and caste add to the complexities to manipulate and make women’s life miserable. All these complexities together exerts a huge burden of understanding and responsibility on the women (for which she is not of course acknowledged) which she is often unable to fulfil resulting in problems sometimes beyond one’s imagination

Journalism in Bollywood

Journalism is not a highly sought after career in Bollywood. Hence, even when movies about journalism were flourishing in Hollywood, Bollywood didn’t show much of a concern for it. Most Bollywood protagonists choose to be business magnets, singers/dancers or rather a student than a journalist. Rarely are they concerned about something other than their love affairs, family feuds and property rights. Hence, journalists are a rare species in Bollywood.
Though traditional Indian society still doesn’t allow women to work outside their houses, most journalists in Bollywood are females. They are usually the most versatile sort - often extremely glamorous - who do everything but journalism. Sridevi in Mr India spends her time singing, dancing, pouting, throwing tantrums and fantasising about her invisible hero. Preity Zinta in Mission Kashmir does everything from giving dance performances to counseling a tortured hero to deciphering top-secret terrorist plans and yet finds time to run ‘Srinagar TV’ almost single-handedly! Other examples are Madhuri Dixit in Wajood and Meenakshi Sheshadri in Sache Ka Bol Bala who preferred breaking into a song and dance to breaking a story.
Another major purpose of our female journalist is to fall in love with the brave hero who takes her along to fight the underworld, where she does some sort of spy work singing, dancing and charming the villain. Sridevi’s ‘Hawa Hawai’ in Mr. India and Raveena Tandon’s ‘Mei cheez badi hoon’ in Mohra are examples of such performances –item numbers, as they are popularly known. However, her attempts to divert attention from the hero often goes in vain and becomes herself a prisoner whom the hero has to rescue ultimately. Amisha Patel in Ealan did follow the hero in his hunt of the evil, but brought in a change by taking up the gun instead of dancing.
Male journalists are not very common in Bollywood. A popular category is the star reporter for whom, scoops are readily available all the time. He falls in love, sings and dances, fights the baddies and plays savior to the poor. Aamir Khan played such a smart scribe in Dil Hai Ki Maanta Nahin, who gallantly overcomes all the odds in his path to fulfill the noble mission of taking the heroine safely home to daddy. In his spare moments, he thought up ground-breaking stories about poor little rich girls, who run away from home. The heroine here is just a subject of news for the talented reporter at the beginning, but later turns out to be his sweetheart. The hero of Rain is a reporter who interviews a blind writer, but later falls in love with his subject. In Dil Se the reporter falls in love with a human bomb, a member of the terrorist group on which he is investigating. In all these cases, the reporter ends up as the hero of a sensational love story.
These are just the cases when a prominent actor plays a journalist. But most often we find journalists in Bollywood when a group of them swarm around celebrities with their ‘silly’ questions. In such cases they are often considered troublemakers and irrelevant characters. They are often disdainfully shrugged off with retorts.
This doesn’t mean that the daring and the adventurous have no role in Bollywood. The most common category of journalists in Bollywood is the crusading type who finds out the truth but often loses his/her life. Examples are Madan Jain in Pratibandh who is killed inside a car, Shekhar Suman in Tridev who is poisoned and Dimple Kapadia in Krantiveer who is raped. Then there are the ones who are idealistic. Jesse Randhawa’s fearless TV reporter in Chot is an attempt to reveal the Hindi film heroine as the workingwoman in her post-domestic avatar. Anil Kapoor in Nayak is that kind of journalist who doesn’t lose the courage and temper during an adverse situation and takes up any challenge –even if it is to become the chief minister for a day.
Only a few offbeat films have shown journalists as they are — corruptible, vulnerable or partisan: Phir Bhi Dil Hai Hindustani, for instance. Shah Rukh Khan and Juhi Chawla as two wily, smooth talking and street-smart television reporters, constantly engaged in a game of one-upmanship with each other, offered an interesting glimpse into the ‘channel eats channel’ world of television news. Both exclaimed "I’m the best" while hunting frantically for scoops, but ultimately joined hands to save an innocent man from the gallows.
The most prominent movie in this category is the recent Page 3, which charts the troubled journey of a reporter, played by Konkana Sen Sharma, covering the metro party culture. Enthusiastic and still unversed in the ways of the wicked world, she yearns to work on meaningful stories. She gets her chance, uncovers a child abuse racket involving the mighty of the society, only to be mercilessly dismissed by her employers. Life comes full circle when she joins another newspaper, once again as a Page 3 correspondent, realizing painfully that there is no place for a crusader in the world of ridiculously commercial journalism.
Editors in Bollywood, unlike reporters are usually down to earth and sometimes revolutionary if we set apart Tiku Talsania in Dil Hai Ki Manta Nahin, Anu Kapoor in Mr India and Dev Anand in Sache Ka Bol Bala. In Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro, a tabloid editor uses two struggling photographers to get evidence against corrupt officials. Gripping New Delhi Times painted a credible picture of the futile struggle of an editor to publish the murky truth. Shashi Kapoor, in New Delhi Times depicted the external and internal pressures faced by an editor while exposing a criminal-politician nexus quite authentically. Boman Irani in Page 3 is the editor who emotionally supports the reporter, but dismisses her due to commercial pressure. Jeetendra in New Delhi depicted the ways in which press can be misused for personal reasons of the editor.
There are some movies that revealed the usual popularity tricks. Juhi Chawla in Phir Bhi Dil Hai Hindustani acts out a fake reporting of a cyclone and its effects, live from the spot, which is actually being shot in the studio under a fake cyclone. The protagonists intentionally create a bad impression of the other so as to popularize their shows. Shabana Azmi made immortal the opportunistic columnist who creates a ‘man of the masses’ to increase the circulation in Main Azaad Hoon.
There are very few journalists in Bollywood who were designed after a real life character or incident. Preity Zinta in Lakshya is a take on Barkha Dutt of NDTV, who reported live from the warfront in Kargil. Many others were associated with sting operations. Kamla is a movie based on a real sting operation executed by an Indian Express reporter to reveal a flesh trade racket. He pretended as a customer to buy a tribal girl from the racket and thus exposed it. Priyanka Chopra plays a bubbly investigative journalist in the forthcoming Krrish; a role inspired by India TV sting girl Ruchi.
Cinema captures the activities of the press usually when there is something interesting happening or when it does exceedingly well. As per the standards of Bollywood, the plot requires enormous drama and a love story mixed up with it to succeed in the box office. But there aren’t many such instances in the history of Indian press that could capture the attention of a lay audience. This may be one reason Bollywood couldn’t do much in bringing out journalism as a prominent theme.
However, Phir Bhi Dil Hai Hindustani has proven that even journalism can interest Indian audience if the necessary ingredients like song and dance is properly mixed with it. In future, sting operations seems to have the potential to become the darlings of Bollywood since many media houses in India have now started to adopt it as a means of exposing top level corruption. The success of Page 3 is clearly a good sign.

At last

Yee hah....
I've created by own blog. I've been brooding over it for over a week now. Lack of enough materials belated the birth of this baby. Now watch on...