But they had it all...

The last week saw two celebrity suicides - not one, two. And who! Two extremely popular, successful, accomplished people, revered in their own fields. Kate Spade, the woman who launched the line of bags which every woman had to own one of at least. Anthony Bourdain who gave wanderlusting new meaning - who inspired people to travel and discover local gems that the world has to offer. They had money, love, respect and adulation from even people who did not know them well enough. Yet, in an empty hotel room, in different parts of the world, few days apart, they both hung themselves to death. But,they had everything. That's what the news articles say - They had everything, then why?

It shook me to imagine what they must've felt - when they tied that belt/scarf to end it. What must've been going on in their minds in those last few moments. How irrelevant and inconsequential everything they had earned or achieved must've been. And how an emptiness and a meaningless blankness must've taken over. But, could someone have stopped them? Could someone have changed the music and cheered them up that day? They had people they loved - one phone call, one conversation, could it have helped?

But, they didn't reach out. It is so scary - because whether or not you can call it depression, we all have moments of abject pain and sorrow, where sometimes nothing matters. That's where bad decisions of slitting wrists, running away from home and giving up on life come along. I know I've had many a moment like that while growing up, I still have them sometimes when nothing seems to matter. These are the bad moments when you feel unloved, but also incapable of loving. Where you feel alone, but are unable to reach out to someone. Where you're sinking, but you don't have the drive to grab a hook. But it always passed, someone or the other knowingly or unknowingly staged a rescue. Friends made normal but helpful conversations, forced ice-cream outings (when that was all we could afford as students!), just sat and partook in that hour long stare at the tree in college if that's what it was going to take for this to pass.

It is possible there's many of us who don't reach out even today - We wouldn't even know that someone is hurting to a point of destruction unless it hits us in the face. Because we're busy sorting out our own lives. And because we don't believe it can happen to someone we know. Forget Kate Spade and Anthony, think about the people you know. That friend who works 9-5, complains of the traffic, gulps down 6 cups of coffee with you at the pantry and makes office jokes, who watches some netflix before turning in, who goes on vacation every few months and lives an enviable life on social media. We cannot process that this person could be sad about anything - forget, have suicidal thoughts or be mentally disturbed. If they cry, we may pass it off as an outburst or a vent, nothing else. Who realizes that the afterthought lingers on in their minds for days at end. And it only gets worse. People very conveniently say "This movie is depressing". "I feel depressed today". "The environment here is so depressing". Maybe they mean it, but people use that word so loosely nowadays, you cannot tell the difference anymore if something is truly depressing or merely and temporarily upsetting.

Every bad conversation, every heartless exchange, every family drama, every hypocritical or deprecating comment, takes a toll. And some have been battling demons since we were teenagers. Think about the pile-up! The media sometimes makes it worse - Sensationalizing suicide glorifies it sometimes, rather than discourage it. Imagine someone with a bottle of sleeping pills reading these articles, it will push them over the edge. Did Kate Spade's news push Bourdain over the edge, we'll never know. 

Everyone's not strong enough to always bounce back and always find the silver lining. And I suppose the only thing we can do is be around for someone who's having trouble bouncing back. We can take note of the disturbing signs and if nothing, just be there. Remind that loved one or even colleague you care about that they're stronger and bigger than this. They are valued and precious in the current moment. All these whatsapp forwards and quotations are not going to help, getting up and giving them a hug is what will. I do try my best, because I know people who've done it for me and who still do it - I will listen. I will listen better, more carefully, to what is said and unsaid by the people I love. Because if celebrity deaths shock us this much, be rest assured that a loved one giving up is going to rip us apart. And if you don't know what to do or it seems out of control, call for help, reach out to a helpline. The last thing you want to live with is regretting not making that phone call earlier. 

Because what doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger...

Its constantly amazing, how some people go on and on about all the things that go wrong in their life, how people do not love them, how they are not valued - when they've been guilty of exactly doing the same things in the past! In their movie, where they're the damsels in distress and the protagonists who can do no wrong, who float on magic clouds and ooze joy where they move, there's a villain. Err, in someone else's movie, you're the villain! It’s a strange face of human nature, we have the memory of an elephant for all the bad that has happened to us, but the memory of a goldfish for the ill we've done unto others.

Our moral science lessons in school, our movies and mainstream media and even the bible (come on!) teach us "Do unto others, what you would have done unto yourself". Yet, we sow nails in others' pathways and expect a carpet of roses for ourselves. We forget that at some point, we had the opportunity to make someone happier, make their lives a little bit easier - we didn't take it. We created misunderstandings, because it amused us. We  found flaws with them, because they didn't fit our definition of 'beautiful' or 'normal' or 'fun'. We immediately adjudged them to be inferior, because they had different priorities, they were wired differently. They weren't cross wired, they just weren't like you. They weren't bad, mind you.

This is often contributed by the environment we grow up in. Indian families are perhaps the most loving to their own, but to others - they're the quickest to criticize, quickest to resist change and the slowest to accept differences. When kids from such households grow up, they start meddling in others' lives, giving them a false sense of maturity and adulthood. No, sir. That is called poking your nose where it doesn't belong and handing out advise nobody asked you for. Now, God forbid someone else meddles in their lives, all hell breaks loose. Family committee meetings are convened, friends support groups are recruited, a rescue force is commissioned.

If only, the oppressed could remember how they were the oppressors at a point. Some of us don't have the luxury of family meetings and rescue missions - We're pretty much by ourselves and have been overwhelmed with your insensitivity at times! Yet, you steal our rainbows, but cry yourself a river when you hit a road bump.

But, thank you. Yes, you made us stronger - Yes, we discovered the power of being alone, but not lonely. Maybe that came at the expense of a whole bunch of tears, more than a few pounds, maybe a bottle of vodka, maybe a cocktail of drugs or even lifelong high heart rates. But, we're more evolved than you'll ever be. We'll have more heart than you publicly claim to possess. Today, we'll wish our stolen rainbows brighten up your house, our stolen laughter rings in your ears, our stolen dreams keep you awake at night.

"But, I wasn't so bad ever", you'll say. I agree. No, you were worse.

Kanmi nomi zo shiru... Only sweet Heaven knows!

When a show came about in a corner of the world known as Japan, about a man who changes jobs so he can eat desserts and write about it - I still found out as it launched, though I wasn't on Netflix at the time but I guess it speaks volumes about the kind of pages I follow on social media! The premise kind of hit home hard because it was almost like someone was living my dream onscreen. There's been several occasions and my colleagues would vouch for it, when I've lamented how I'd rather be eating and writing about eating than working excels on profit margins about companies making couplings or airplane parts! So, even though it was in Japanese and I'm not the biggest fan of Foreign language television or cinema because one has to pay real good attention to the subtitles, I figured I was going to watch this show. Torrents failed me (can we please sign a petition to bring back the real Kickasstorrents!), online streaming sites failed me, Hotstar didn't comprehend what I was searching for even! Finally, when I got myself around to be part of my band of friends and also Netflix dacoits using free trials very effectively, it was the first show I watched. So, here's my honest and impressed piece about Kantaro, the sweet tooth salaryman.

  

A 20 odd minutes each episode, a twelve episode season is what we have so far. The protagonist Ametani Kantaro is this smart, professional mid-twenties employee who quits his previous job because it allowed him to only have sweets over the weekend and he wanted to be able to do this all week through. Hence, he finds himself a job as a salesman for a book publishing house in Tokyo. He must make sales visits selling new offerings to book stores across the city and he manages to finish his visits like a ninja, much sooner than others while keeping some time aside to visit a different sweet shop every visit. Later, he blogs about it under the name Sweets Knight. While the premise is fictitious, the sweet shops are real and apparently so are the delicious desserts he eats. So, we go along with him on this journey as each episode is dedicated to one special dish.

He's literally in heaven! Here he's devouring a Kakigori or a dessert of saved ice with freshly scooped melons and melon syrup!

The construct of each episode is quite planned as well (Heck, it’s a Japanese series!), starting with a brief of how he lands up in that district or part of town and oh, the serendipity - the area is famous for XYZ dessert. This is followed by a mini crisis of how to make time for the place, followed by his grand entry into the store, a description of the ambiance along with a brief history of the restaurant, how he orders for the special or signature dish, watches it being made while literally foodgasming as he describes the cooking process. Finally he digs in, devouring his dessert wholesomely, generally ordering for more of the same and then blogging about it immediately after he leaves the store. He finally ends up entering his office like a star who's over-done his job of the day. No one in the office questions him because he meets his targets and slowly becomes salesman of the month, even. Except, well Dobashi. A lady who loves sweets as much and follows Sweets Knight and starts seeing a correlation with a new post to the same location where Kantaro has visited. She spends time figuring how to whistleblow so she can report him playing hooky on the job, purely because she doesn’t believe one can be so perfect. She tries to honey trap him by telling him about a store via a comment she posts as Sweets Princess, then waits for him there. She tries to share some exquisite handmade desserts lying to him that they are from a supermarket - waiting for Kantaro san to explode in her face. But, Kantaro is always one step ahead - always composed, icy exterior and does not crack even though from inside he's a bundle of nerves figuring how close he was to getting busted! I must not forget to mention - in each episode there is 4-5 minute scene where other characters become the dish or generally Kantaro's head becomes the dish and there is a dreamy conversation about life at large. I ended up skipping this mindless part most of the times because I was mainly in a hurry to get to the next episode and discover what beauty is being shot.

The Fruit Parfait <3 <3

The season takes you through some delicious Japanese sweets, that being in India I have had almost NO exposure to, but can still find some familiarity with the ingredients. For instance, the first episode talks about a dessert called Shiratama Anmitsu - which ends up being made of ingredients such as red beans (humble Rajma?), Agar Agar (China grass!), Rice flour dumplings (Modaks?) topped off with a bunch of fruits. It’s a sort of a fruit trifle (I won't say Parfait, because there's a whole episode dedicated to that!).

The chocolate mousse dessert

This bar of perfectly made bean to bar chocolate! 

 The detailed description of the dish, its ingredients, how it tasted always made me drool and I decided to only watch while eating a meal, so I can't end up craving for something and skipping what I'm supposed to eat. Hell, that backfired in the next episode where he was eating shaved ice and I was shoving down Kundroo and roti! But, I'm saying that it the series is less alien than I imagined and slowly grows onto you. By episode 8, it doesn't shock you when a red bean sauce is served with a matcha icecream! 

The Savarin that Kantaro
devours at Cafe Recherche

Also some of the desserts he tries are Western but you realize have a huge popularity in Japan as well - Remember the parfait, then there's eclairs, the Italian Caramel pudding, the French Savarin and then there is ONE WHOLE EPISODE dedicated to Chocolate! Heaven, basically - in Kantaro's words "Sweets Heaven!"

 

Nevertheless, BIG shout-out to the camera work and photography which painstakingly and sometimes in real Slo-mo shoots fruits being scooped or this blast of a soft gelatinous ball of sweet jelly and makes you almost dive into that kitchen and can almost taste the juiciness. I've watched a whole bunch of food shows, no one has shot food better than in Kantaro. Even the pictures he puts up on his blog after the visits, puts an instagram influencer's page to shame. There's utter beauty in each shot that contains food and this has 100% won my heart!

This is the camera work you see to explain how juicy that jelly was! 

 
At 20 minutes per episode, its highly addictive if you're an incorrigible foodie like me. Its one of those shows you can easily binge watch and walk away smiling and not mind-fucked where you're trying to figure what the hell just happened. 

Slightly creepy - Kantaro eating an eclair in front
of his mom, who he's managed to put to bed!

Yes, the ending was a slight let down for me (No spoilers here) but I await the next season because we need  more such offbeat, somewhat creepy at times (the episode where he's eating sweets while his mother is sleeping like a deranged psychopath!), but warm and endearing shows about the things we love. Till then, as I dream about desserts, the next one I have is something "Only sweet heaven knows!".

Kanmi nomi zo shiru! 

Also visit this link if you're interested in a list of the stores he visits and are heading to Tokyo some time soon. I also read about a Kantaro food tour - and I can't wait to visit the city and take it someday!

 

Till death do us apart..

Nowadays there are whatsapp forwards going around about everything – its almost as if all the world’s love lessons and moral science teachings are left to pass on only through whatsapp. All those “Love your daughter”, “A mother is special because…”, blah blah forwards – effectively we’re running our very own versions of Hum saath saath hain on social media (great timing on this reference by the way! *blogger pats self on back*). When it comes to spouses though, there’s just ruthless memes and jokes – either mocking the female partner’s low IQ, or the male’s propensity to drink, or both’s to ignore a child and become phone addicts. Has no one ever wondered to share anything about how important one’s spouse is to one’s life? It is amazing, how the one relationship which we try to pick for ourselves, the one person who we will see for the longest period in our lives, is relegated to the comedy genre in media.

Yes, accept it. In likelihood, you will see your spouse for the longest time in your life (assuming they don’t get fed up of you) – Longer than you’ll probably see your children, longer than you’ll see your parents maybe, longer than you’ll see any friend even. Plus, you’ll see them first thing in the morning, last thing at night.

Spouses are important in more ways than one – Besides the whole fact that they provide you with love and togetherness, they are around for more than you realize. They see you at your worst – literal worst. I mean they can be the ones who can live with you even if you’ve grown an upper lip worthy of competing with Shikhar Dhawan. And vice versa, you live with them if they’ve not shaved in days and celebrate No-shave November even in June; if they grow beer bellies, or lose hair. Spouses are around for the after-show; after all the lights go off and the make-up comes off. They’re around for the real deal and they stay. They don’t have an exit pass or a pack-up time. Besides dealing with replusive physical appearances sometimes, they also deal with you when you’re most vulnerable. They’re around to see that despite the fact that you may be this corporate gladiator, fighting board room wars, cutting winning deals, getting everything broken fixed, you might be scared of thunder; or a lizard. They deal with your squeals when you spot that ugly creature crawling on the wall in front of you; But they also deal with your insecurities when you pour your heart out about how work is getting to you. Sometimes, they even let you use them as a punching bag when you need to vent and be a completely selfish alligator.

They’re with you when you get that dreaded phone call that tells you someone in the family passed away. They hold you, sit with you and let you cry till it is time to get up and go to the funeral. And they come with you. They don’t get to say No, or distance themselves from a tragedy. Your sorrow is their sorrow. They hang around for all the tears, pain and heartbreak – always.

They act as great priests hearing out your confessions if you did something wrong and making you feel ridiculously guilty about it – but then in the bargain making sure you fix it and do the right thing. I think my morality tree has grown manifold like a successful Farmville piece of land might, thanks to the mister.        

Its not just these really large and mighty things that they’re around for. They do the little things as well – basically the whole deal. Whether it is bringing thermometer at 2 am to check why you’re warm, or whether it is finishing off that really bad piece of apple pie the host forced on to your plate at the party, or whether it is meeting your friends on your birthday when they’d much rather just chill. They’re around for all things good and bad. It is despicable that all we choose to share when we talk about spouses is about them forgetting anniversaries, or becoming fat, or showing the wives throw money on clothes and jewelry while the men are getting drunk. We need to stop the hypocrisy and misrepresentation – not all parents are perfect, not all children are perfect and God’s gifts and not all married relationships are irreparable and imperfect. They deserve much more than memes and laughs.

13th March - My favourite day of the year!

It’s that time of the year again – March 13^th is literally around the corner. The one time of the year my friends see the Birthdayzilla version of me, strutting around the day like I’m walking on a cloud. My mother dresses up in a new dress all excited for dinner herself. The husband hits his head, because this single day is the most challenging for the sober and inexpressive person that he is. I’m doing countdowns from months and weeks running up to this day, but this year is somehow different. Work is crazy, I almost didn’t realize it was a week to go last Tuesday, till one of my besties pointed it out (see how well they’ve paid attention at orientation programme?). I’ve made the smallest deal possible, told everyone to chill and not hassle much this year round. I don’t know what I want for a birthday gift and I don’t know yet when I will get off work. It’s very different but maybe I’m getting old enough to in some years start saying “It’s just another day in the year”.

But this year more than every other – I’ve been reminiscing how birthdays in childhood used to be. May be we should spend time to remember how the past was, so it doesn’t slip by our mind. I’d be devastated if some day I wake up and cannot remember how those favorite days in my childhood were. And birthdays were right up there in the list.

There were always cakes to be cut – which my dad used to take me to Nilgiris to order. The same Mickey Mouse cake was picked which would get delivered by the evening of the birthday. I don’t know how but Dad always managed to come home by the time the cake had to be cut. For a man who came home at 9 and 10 pm every other day, he never let my birthday slip by - He always made it! He’d have taken me to Commercial street one day before if not sooner but make sure I have something new to wear for my birthday, sometimes at the expense of homework not being done! So we’d all dress up and go somewhere for dinner – there’d be times we’d have some of his work friends or some of his pathetic relatives tag along and I’d lose all attention for that outing, but then he’d say bye to everyone and take us for ice-cream to Richie Rich and life would be good again as we slobbered up on that Gadbad icecream.

After he left, the years Mum and I spent birthdays alone were still special – My friends from college used to make a huge deal of my birthday and indulge me during the day, while in the evening we’d cut a cake and my relatives would visit. Dinners were generally the evening snack indulgences with lots of cake and a sugar high making it hard to sleep and those glances at the clock counting down to how much of the birthday is left. Super low key from the years before, but never unfulfilling or unsatisfying.

Birthdays in the MBA days were super special too – The dirty Geeta bakery cake was bought to smash on our face and hair. At  Rs.65 for the ½ kg, it was an amazing hair spa treatment at least! My roommate made the cutest video, sometimes managing to convince Vivek he has a moral duty to contribute as well – I knew they used to fight on the sidelines about this! Dinners were organized, my friends would plan the number of bikes and the whole plan and we’d go indulge as much as possible for that night. I'd pray from a few days before that we don't have visiting faculty classes and there's no assignment due. Heck, there was a Brandmaps team submission due but my team let me off. 

I don’t vividly remember ever getting something as a birthday gift at home – there wasn’t ever a token saying this is for your birthday. Much like today, the people around me love me enough to put up with my demands and spoil me the whole year through, it isn’t even possible to find something to demand shamelessly any more for that specific day.

I have a Mr. who reminds me more than ever of my dad in terms of how he behaves around my favorite day of the year. The last minute Birthday cake orders which I generally go along for, last minute clothes being bought, that shocking early return from work when otherwise he’s moping around about his evening meetings. I grow older, but more loved and more cared for as every year passes. May be it isn't about an obvious celebration any more, but more about knowing that there's people who'll always remember your special day and hearing from everyone on the same day is enough. Its more about chocolate cake than its ever been - its more about getting away with tantrums but knowing everyone's making an effort to make you smile all day through. And you know what, its more than enough. 

The Hunger Games - India edition - My 6th!

It’s that time of the year again, when I start monitoring the moon rise for a few days before the D-day hits. I have no astronomical interests and neither have I ever had the patience to sit tight and wait for a star to come up - Ask my mother, I barely have the patience for the rotis to be done! Anyhow, so here it arrives, Karva Chauth – India’s annual edition of the Hunger Games, with just one difference. There’s no winning for us Katniss Everdeens in this version. We aren’t mobilizing armies, saving the world or winning conquests – we’re barely winning that day and making it through sane. 

In true keeping with fan-girl tradition, I read and re-read Twinkle Khanna’s piece on Karva Chauth as we neared this date and ended up doing a bit of research on my own. Karva Chauth originated in the North Western part of India where women fasted for the safe return of their husbands who would leave their families and go to war. Umm, we stay in Bengaluru – the only war we’re facing is Marathalli bridge or Silk Board traffic. The only other thing stopping us from our safe return home is an Ola cab who cancels after calling to check the destination or ridiculous surge-pricing on Uber (Take my kidney also – would you be happy then, Uber?)

Another version of the origin says that way long ago, in the pre-kitty party era, girls who married young and had to live with their in laws in other villages and towns would tend to feel lonely at times – hence, during the wedding ceremony, the bride would befriend another woman of similar age or in the ballpark who would play her sister for life. Hence, a festival named Karva Chauth was devised to celebrate this relationship. Now, how going without food or water for the husband came into the picture is anybody’s guess, but silent cheer to those soul sisters we have who we can crib to about everything including this day at times, in excruciating detail! 

Karva Chauth in the recent times has become an opportunity for jewelry stores to capitalize on, Ekta Kapoor shows to host specials on, News channels to go completely berserk with live sightings and KJo music in the background as women break their fasts. A company like DeBeers was smart to capitalize on proposals and came up with the Diamond engagement rings concept; it’s only a matter of time before someone realizes the potential of Karva Chauth to match up – plus, it is an annual event! Also, good luck getting a parlor appointment this day, even if all you need is someone to pluck the hair off your moustache. Though I myself get no gifts that day and end up indulging in more-limited-than-ever socializing that day, I always remember my first time. 

I still vividly remember that October day in 2011, I wasn’t married and we were doing the “taara dekh ke todo” version of the fast. This is like the internship version of the full fast – As a reward for landing this true-blue Punjabi man, I get to starve the whole day, wait for a star to come out and then break my fast. It was promised to be a much faster sighting, apparently like reaching for the moon but landing among the stars. A philosophy which can work only in performance appraisal discussions because frankly, I discovered that the stars rise almost pretty much at the same time that the moon does. However, I remember that day clearly – And the discussions which led up to that day. The mister telling me that I don’t need to if I don’t want to, the mother in liaw sending us subtle hints that I should, my mother generally not following what is going on, my friends finding it fairly Awww but also laughing their heads off about it. In the days leading up to this, I was asked by the mother in law to buy a particular sweet to be consumed a day before Karva Chauth and was also asked to go shopping and buy something nice – Little bonuses! 

Down to the day – It was a Saturday and I remember figuring out a plan by exactly Friday night – Lay in bed for as long as you can, wake up at 2 pm (Liberties you can afford when you’re not married and staying at your mother’s). Then watch a movie and get through 3 more hours, then get ready and go to a temple and meet the man for dinner. I had just gotten my license and was new to driving, though Bengaluru in 2011 wasn’t really the Lego version of Fast & Furious as it is now. It was fairly humanly possible to drive from Indiranagar to Vasanthnagar at 5 pm, without getting killed or hitting high blood pressure. So I got dressed in my finery, sent by the mother in law and waited downstairs for the man to meet me. In sauntered the person for whom this fast was, for his long life and well-being and what not. I remembered the DDLJ scene of Karva Chauth and whatever else I’ve learnt in KJo’s induction classes for beginners to married life. And I tried my best to remember that this should be an emotion of overwhelming love and a little bit of coyness. Funny, but at that moment all I could think of was to kill this very man. This very man, who’s been my best friend from college has to suddenly become this object of worship, while I give up what’s very dear to me – Food! My room doesn’t get cleaned without my consent, the ketchup brand at home doesn’t change without my consent, but my priorities were being reprioritized without my consent! 

Moving on – I wanted to get on with this and get some food, so we got into the car, as I stayed quieter than usual and tried my best to avoid the million dollar question – where is my gift? We had argued several rupees of talk-time (Pre Jio days!) on this precious topic and it was made very clear to me, that I can be taken shopping but he can’t find me a gift independently. He asked me what I had brought to break the fast – I had some laddoos his mum had made and sent, I thought it most fitting to close the Hunger games with them. He then suddenly exclaimed that “Even he is waiting to eat them”. A little gasp and a little more back and forth later, at a traffic signal, I realized that he hadn’t eaten or drunk water since morning either. He said this is the least he could do and at least this way I wouldn’t be alone. In my head flashed KJo’s face and some K3G music played in the background – all the love came back! I hadn’t asked him to do this and I sure felt a little bad. But, then I saw the silver lining – we were miserable, hungry, grumpy and sore – but we weren’t alone. We were never going to be. 

And its exactly the same till date – we both don’t eat or drink. We know the drill – Wake up exactly at 3 am and nudge the other one awake; gulp a liter of water down; sigh and go back to sleep; try to work from home or go to the office for some time; be back by at least 5 pm; read the story of Rani Veervati and her dedication to keep this fast; get the Puja thali ready by 8 pm consisting of a diya made of Atta, the Karva full of water to drink, the Chhanni and some sweets to eat; turn on Aaj Tak who reports moon-sightings like they’re UFO sightings, nowadays replete with mushy music as well. Till two years ago, I never saw the moon. I always saw what seemed to be the moon behind a thicket of clouds – that’s Bengaluru. No clear skies, when you really need them! Yet, the man would drive me around the block, to see if it was visible from another angle. Then when we would spot it, he’d stand patiently holding my thali while I’d struggle to get a good click on the phone. 

Karva Chauth has now come to mean a lot more than just the hunger games to me. It’s one of those yearly adventures where it is just the two of us – just us to look over each other, just us to make sure we’re okay, just us to mock each other as we stuff ourselves with food. We don’t have anything remotely filmy about it, I’m rarely in anything more than pyjamas when we actually see the moon finally nowadays, but it’s still romantic and it’s still special – it’s our moment and though we’re waiting to head downstairs and chomp on food, we still find those several seconds to look at each other and giggle when we do the seeing through the chhanni routine. On that thought, I guess I declare my sixth edition of the Indian Hunger Games open – May we survive, may we triumph, may we see the moon at 6 pm tonight!  

Big Little Lies - My small little thoughts

While growing up, I watched a movie called a Walk to Remember and cried my eyes out. A bit more recently, a movie on similar lines namely The Fault in our stars found its way on my laptop and I watched Hazel Grace and Augustus in bated anticipation of that moment I would tear up and feel the way I did with a Walk to Remember. I didn't. I wrote off the movie and its stars. Until last week. Augustus from the movie I found oh-so-faulty stunned me with his ever so subtle yet adorable acting in Baby Driver. I wasn't even done raving over that, as I started to watch something called Big Little lies on TV. An HBO presentation, with a 92% Rotten Tomatoes rating and an 8.7 on IMDB, it had all the signs of being a great show. As I sat and watched in patience, it was now Hazel Grace's turn to stun – As Jane Chapman in a series which also happens to star the ever popular Nicole Kidman and Reese Witherspoon. To be the one you remember from this ensemble, is quite amazing – so I’m taking back my opinion of the stars of the erstwhile mentioned faulty movie! But coming to Big Little Lies, here's my few cents on this drama sans spoilers, I'll try.

The series begins with a bunch of Moms dropping off their children to school for orientation and the good and the bad sparks that start flying. Through the almost-hour long each of the seven episodes, you see everything a drama about Moms and their families might contain – domestic violence, Stay-at home moms pitted against working moms, single motherhood challenges, divorced parents trying to do what’s best for their kids, the works. The first episode almost threatens to be like a Desperate Housewives episode, but takes flight to be something way more meaningful almost as instantly. Because what sets this apart is how this storyline is in flashback as its interlaced with witness statements in a murder investigation, in present. There's a certain sense of mystery as threads slowly unravel from Episode 1 onwards. Eg: The woman in the blue dress, how she turns out to be Jane, how she wound up in that situation, What happened that night, etc. Though it is a flashback, it is unraveled in small pieces cutting time and again between witness accounts of what they think happened that night and what they think of each of the suspects – this is one awesome win for viewer engagement.

Madeleine (Reese Witherspoon), the most popular mom with the most popular kid Chloe is basically the charm of the town. She is empathetic to a fault, still a little legally blonde at times, a little imperfect, yet absolutely gorgeous and endearing all at once. Her relationship with Abigail, a teenage daughter she has with her ex is challenging from the word 'go' though her current husband Ed makes you often wonder that she's lucked out second time round at least. Celeste (Nicole Kidman), a mother of two boys, is the always in place, perfect looking, with well-manicured nails, always cautious about what she says and looks like, wife of super young and rich lawyer Perry Wright. Her seemingly perfect life is almost grudged by the town, leaving her quite a small social circle barring her best friend Madeleine. Jane Chapman, (previously introduced stunner) played by Shailene Woodley is a single mom who's moved to Monterey for some great schooling for her son, Ziggy. She doesn't ever tell him who his father is and you discover through the series that she honestly doesn't know either and is as clueless as you or me. Jane swings between being someone you pity to someone you would worry about when you see her gun. Because in the plain Jane sense, you don't want this one getting hurt.

Madeleine befriends Jane and adds this third musketeer to the equation and completes the protagonist gang – Celeste, Jane and Madeleine soon begin to bond. In the midst of this bonding, Jane has to constantly deal with accusations of Ziggy attacking and being violent with another kid in school, Amabella. The victim, turns out to be the daughter of a very successful business woman, also head of the anatagonist gang - Renata, who's recently among many other corporate achievements, also made it to the Board of Paypal. Annoying as you would expect her to be, she is. But does end up shocking you when she needs to play nice and have a heart. The bickering over who attacked Amabella continues till the last episode in fact, which ends up serving as a fitting closure to all the characters and storylines. The climax by itself isn't entirely shocking if you pay attention to some very subtle and intelligent hints through the episodes, but it does make you appreciate the genius of the storytelling.

The climax is a fitting tribute to women in Big Little Lies, in real life, everywhere. Despite all the scandals, all the allegations that they'll never get along, all the back biting, there's a sense of one-for-all that these characters portray when faced with a common enemy. It is truly amazing to see that though Madeleine's character is the one who's empathetic and helpful always, when necessary all women can be a parachute to other women. They may never speak of it, or boast of it. But will selflessly help each other and move on like nothing ever happened.

There's also of course another life lesson vividly on display – all that glitters is not gold. Women living in large, white mansions by the beach can have problems too – emotional breakdowns, broken relationships, failed parenting experiences and domestic abuse. Case in point – Celeste’s journey is from a housewife seemingly in golden bracelets, to one with golden handcuffs gradually turning into one who’s in denial but then comes to terms with reality and how she plans to combat it for her children's future.You’d hardly imagine when you see her in Episode 1 that life can be so challenging for her.

The cinematography is brilliant though it has limited scope since the series is all about the people. Yet, those shots of the bridge in the opening credits, of the waves hitting the shores as we cut between some scenes, the cozy café amongst the yachts – there's beauty in pretty much every shot in Monterey.

I can't say it enough- we need more shows like this – succinct yet powerful, about simple things yet emotionally tangled people, mysterious but not frightening, hard-hitting but not preachy.