Encore, One More! Modi Obliges. What Does Heaven Say?

Narendra Modi is back again and the Bible affirms that God is responsible for the victory

I am Christian and I’m real happy that Narendra Modi has won. POTUS is used for ‘President Of The United States.’ I would like to use LOTUS for ‘Law Of Twice Underscores Success.’

I am dancing as David did in Jehovah’s sight; dancing and dancing with all my might. Join in! Praise God with the trumpet, the cymbal, and harp. Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God alone.

Scripture has always exhorted us to pray for those in authority. Paul advises his young disciple Timothy and those fellowshipping with him to: “make supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings for everyone, for kings and for all who are in authority, that we may lead a quiet and peaceful life in all godliness and honesty, for this is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Savior” (1 TIMOTHY 2:1-3).

Apostle Peter instructs his readers, on this thoughtful Thursday, to submit to every human authority for the Lord’s sake, whether it be to Prime Minister Modi, as supreme, or to governors, as sent by him for the punishment of evildoers and to praise those who do right….Honour all people. Love the brotherhood. Fear God, honour Prime Minister Modi. (Modi-fied from 1 PETER 2:13-14, 17).

It’s a biblical command

When we stop to realize what sort of rulers Paul and Peter lived under, we realize that we don’t have to agree with the BJP or RSS, or wait until they become believers to pray for them.

The early Christians had to live under rulers like Nero. Theirs was no democratic state. Yet they recognized that government was a God-given institution necessary for the upholding of justice and order, and the limitation of evil.

We may disagree with the judgment and policies of the BJP or Congress, and wish for greater character in all politicians as persons. But we are still exhorted to pray for them.

While developing our own Christian character, which is far from what our God desires it to be.

How should we now pray for the BJP?

First and foremost, should we not thank God for the peace and security we in India do enjoy today, for the stability that we so often take for granted?

I am able to go to church every Sunday, worship my Lord with the congregation sans any fear, any threat.

If you have taken time to glimpse into history right back to the earliest times, you will discover our participatory democracy is a recent development and those of us who live in democracies have benefited greatly from the influence of biblical ideas in the formation of the government of some countries.

What kind of people are we anyway?

Too often as Christians we have opted out of the political world wanting to “separate ourselves from the world” and have failed to be the salt and light the world needs.

Secondly, let us pray every morning for the Government to execute justice well and for wisdom in this task. Learn the names of the ministers of various departments. Pray for them, by name, and for God to equip them with every grace they need to execute their difficult duty. Actress Zarina Wahab once put it beautifully this way: “You should sympathize with the government that comes into power. It’s like a mother having to cope with 29 spoilt children and 7 pampered ones!”

Pray, pray, pray

The state’s duty is to honour and protect those living decently and productively and punish those who do wrong (ROMANS 13:3-4). Pray for that and also they would govern with wisdom for the common good, or the “welfare of the city” (JEREMIAH 29:7), not for personal gain, or under the pressure of lobby groups, or for the advantage of a favoured few. Their concern must be for the wellbeing of all.

FOR THE MAN OF THE HOUR

On the felt board before your work desk, put a nice picture of the victorious Narendra Modi and tailor your prayers for him every day from this list of power-packed Scriptures to choose from: ACTS 9; Colossians 1:13; ROMANS 5:17; IPeter 2:9.

If you are unable to pray these prayers to meet the moment, remember it’s nobody else’s fault. Blame yourself … not the prayer-answering God you serve.

 

Why Some People (like me) Suffer

The author facilitates at “Developing a Strong Work Ethic” at the LIFE SPHERE Communication for Success seminar at Chennai

It seems so unfair.

I have just returned to my home in Bangalore after two successful seminars I was called to facilitate at Chennai.

Instead of rejoicing, my heart is heavy, my tears are spilling over, and I am in deep, excruciating physical pain.

First, about the successful seminars.

In the first one (which was on COMMUNICATION FOR SUCCESS IN THE MARKETPLACE), participants were surprised when I emphasized that today companies and hiring managers are looking for employees who are not just skilled, talented, or have high educational qualifications. They are looking for persons with ‘soft skills’ which go by a number of names but basically deal with the personality traits, interpersonal skills and how a person communicates these.

Leadership Guru P.K.D.Lee introduces facilitator to the participants

For instance, you may be a computer whiz, or the best graphic designer, or an excellent software developer, but employers and hiring managers are looking for the next level. They are watchful about what kind of team member are you, how will you relate to the project sponsor, the SMEs (subject matter experts), the product owner, the project manager, the technical lead, the software tester, and user acceptance testers… You may be a great teacher or professor in academia, but what do students and their parents think of how you communicate with them in and out of the class?

In a sentence, your qualification and professional abilities (aka “hard skills”) may get you the job. However, your “soft skills” will get you along, ahead, and atop others, and make you a FIRST among EQUALS so to say.

The five “companies” participants divided themselves into (each one gave a reflective brand name for itself) were called to focus on what is their STRONG WORK ETHIC. Apart from one computer professional from Kolkata called Biswajeet, no one else had heard of that ethic before. So now they learned. It embraced: meeting deadline (doing things at once, not procrastinating); Reliability and dependability (punctuality and keeping to your word); Dedication to the job (avoiding sloppiness, typos etc); Perseverance (not quitting until it is completed); Undivided focus (No distractions; putting off FB and WA notifications during work hours); Cooperation (team work).

There were no lectures, or long bhashans. Through role-play and debate, we discussed actual situations, especially dealing with relationship complications. Wisdom regarding: office romances, boss-team-remember romances, how to relate homosexuals in the workplace, other stuff like that. We dug deep to find out what lies within each of us. Then, in Indian preamble style (“We the people of India solemnly resolve…etc”—remember? ), before they left for the day, each etched out a personal preamble with “workplace morals” they would now stand by. This STRONG WORK ETHIC they would print and stick on their bathroom mirror and adhere to all the days of their working life. They knew that thereon, nothing would stop their headway.

(2) The next day was a workshop on COMMUNICATING FOR CHRIST done for a church. The brief was: “We have a website and we want them to write blogs, devotionals, reports…but they feel it is beyond them.” Persons who’d never put pen to paper or finger to key board before, learnt how to integrate JESUS’s three important words (GO…SHARE…LOVE) … with JOURNALISM SCHOOL’S five important words (WHO, WHAT, WHEN, WHY, WHERE) and start writing. (They were advised to leave out the HOW – “leave it for the scandal rags” –lots of humor in the workshop) They began to write during-the-workshop pieces that will touch and transform readers’ lives. Before I left to catch the return flight to Bangalore, many had written one devotional, and also their first blog. I spent personal time with each participant, and the church now has enough stuff for the next six months.

So if all was so hunky dory with the seminars, why is the heart heavy, tears spilling over, and why am I in deep, excruciating physical pain?

Because there is no health in my bones. For years I have been overweight despite God speaking to me directly through His Word (1 Corinthians 10:7. Ezekiel 16:49. Genesis 3:6. Philippians 3:19. Proverbs 23:2 among other parts of the Bible), through many well-wishers, friends, and relatives (including my mother and sister, both medical doctors), I let myself go. I put on, then lost weight many times, and then put it on again; it became a bit of a vicious cycle. (Spiritually, it was like I was deceiving myself and mocking God who cannot be mocked, for whatever one sows, that the person will reap.) Finally came a day, after a certain age, when it became a problem to lose the weight, no matter what the exercise or diet.

That’s where I am at now. At the end of any 9 to 5 seminar or workshop, my feet give way, and I go through a real tough time.
A friend asks why God cannot forgive (in the Bible, overeating is a sin like any other major sin) and restore me to good health, especially since I am through all my work, serving Him alone. Does He not have any grace to resolve my dilemma?

Welcome to POWERHOUSE Church

I believe God has forgiven me and His grace is all over me. His forgiveness is displayed in the fact that despite the very evident severe health struggle, I get media assignments right across the range. I also have a full-time job with an extraordinary organization expecting very high standards of performance. The job He provided because He is aware that as a single mom, I have to see to my own future needs, even after my children are wed and in their own homes.

Writing comes from “heart overflow” as participants discover

His grace He shows me by empowering my work, giving me the energy to see through my assignments … and sending more my way.

The pain is there as a reminder of the consequences of wrong-doing. The God of the Bible loved King David most in all creation. However, after David committed the wrong-doing of adultery and then murder, he lost the son he and Bathsheba conceived in sin … and his other children had no peace; there was rape, murder, and hatred among them. This though God continued to love David, be with him, and kept to the promise that Jesus Christ would be born through his lineage.

If God had made restoration too easy for David, then Bathsheba may not have been his final lady lover, and the world may never have got Solomon, created in legal love and with powerful genes from both parents.

David himself acknowledged that the one who did (what he did) deserved to die. He had ‘utterly scorned God” by what he did (as I did through my stubborn food disorders), so though God forgave him, and even allowed him to marry Bathsheba later, the penalty for the sin remained (their first child died). We must learn that what divinity occasionally deals us is “disciplinary consequences.” They are not part of condemnation.

Retributive justice which condemns and consigns people to eternal damnation is different from the God-sent consequences of forgiven faults, which linger around the wrong-doer (like my suffering limbs) to remind us of the ugliness of continued disobedience, to show that the Master does not overlook lapses lightly even when He has laid aside punishment. Somewhere He is looking for more humility and transformation in the forgiven person.

Despite the agonizing spasms and acute discomfort I am going through as I write this, I cherish the tough and tender truth of the Divine One.

Makes sense?

CRAVING SMUT -What do we do in the dark when we think no one can know?

This one is about hidden flaws, inspired by something less than pleasant I discovered about myself a couple of days ago.

Dear Reader, Trash makes cash. The question is, why should you subscribe to it?

I was checking my WA messages, when suddenly one of them opened to a video recording about Meghan Markle.

Maybe we should not act so familiar with her now. After all, on the morning of the royal wedding, social media joyfully tweeted that the Queen was “pleased to confer a Dukedom on Prince Harry of Wales. His titles will be Duke of Sussex, Earl of Dumbarton, and Baron Kilkeel (they sound awesome even though I don’t have the foggiest notion what comes along with each title).” Meghan’s new title is Her Royal Highness –The Duchess of Sussex. She is the first woman to be known as the Duchess of Sussex. Prince Harry is the second Duke of Sussex. Prince Augustus Fredrick, who campaigned against slavery, was the only other person to hold the title.

Anyway, let us get back to the video recording on the Duchess of Sussex. The pictures were startling, and the narrator was a deeply disappointed British “voice” speaking with great condemnation about the Duchess, how she deceived the naïve Henry Charles Albert David, familiarly known as Prince Harry. (Henry Charles Albert David was born into the House of Windsor and his last name is technically Mountbatten-Windsor – as is the case for all royal males who are descended from Queen Elizabeth II.)

The narrator said that royal family was extremely embarrassed and secretly furious at the “ride” they had been taken for and the shame that had been smuggled into the royal family, that too, through the front door. The narrative included juicy details of the Duchess’ past; specially her film career … her first marriage … her parents, their divorce … her brother, and lots of other stuff like that. There were firsthand witnesses, and photographic evidence of all reported.

Absorbed and interested, I had been glued to the video for around twenty minutes before I realized what I was doing. I was CRAVING SLEAZE –  there are no other words to describe the fallen nature in us humans that explains our preoccupation with celebrity scandal. The sordid sagas fill a gaping hole in our uneventful boring everyday routines. They do all the things which we can never even think of doing – they cheat on their spouses, they have multiple marriages, they kill and compromise, they marry millionaires or princes, most of them seem to get away with it. And here we are stuck with the mundane and a backpack of nothingness.

Strange that I should have lapped up so hungrily, the degenerative tales about the Duchess of Sussex because I am at a joyful place in my life now and so have no excuse. I am the first to confess I have played my own significant part in the scurrilous history of celebrity scandal mongering. I may be pardoned for the pine for polluting paparazzi decades ago, with the protest that it was merely a professional hazard, since I was a cub reporter for consumer magazines like STARDUST, SAVVY, ISLAND, and SOCIETY. The fact that I turned from cub to pack leader, to editor and then finally to editorial director of the company is proof of how good I was at Bad.

We made a living out of celebrity scandal, and such a prosperous living it turned out to be that the entire media in India forgot what it learnt in journalism school and tried to beat us pathetic pioneers at our creepy, cloying game. That is how the cult of celebrity began to take the place of organized religion and decent media, as we fed the public with minutiae of misdemeanors about the rich and famous, endlessly fascinating and terribly sordid and occasionally (as in the Sridevi story) morbid.

Why blame just my own sweet magazines (which I have gained so much from; in fact, many of you who may be reading this will probably remember me from what I wrote those days)? The back-beat to celebrity scandal started decades before we came on the scene … in the West, being richly provided by the whiplash world of drug-elevated pop. When Presley first swiveled his pelvis, elderly aunties and Christians grumbled to all (who would not lend their ears for such criticism), that Elvis had dragged cheerful music to the lowest depths of grunt and groin. So as the King of Rock & Roll (and goodness knows what else) ground his hips and drowned his ships, and finally died heavily drugged, the public obsession with celebrity bad behavior began and has been ceaselessly escalating since. And why not? As an arrogant Beatle John Lennon once said (not entirely untrue), “We’re more popular than Jesus now.” (For which he was shot and killed, but that’s another story.)

I may have continued to delight in and justify participation in junk journalism, the kind that made Joseph Pulitzer (U.S. newspaper editor and one of the most powerful journalists in the nineteenth century) say, “A cynical, mercenary, demagogic, corrupt press will produce in its time a people as base as itself.” (That’s a direct warning to those who allow smut in their gut, dear reader) Oscar Wilde too breathed fire against the “excesses of brutality” of the press. “The private lives of men and women should not be told to the public. The public have nothing to do with them at all.” He is right, you know. How will it benefit a reader if ‘A’ who was married to ‘B’ slept with ‘R’ who once dated ‘G’ who had an illegitimate child through ‘L’ who is now sleeping with ‘B’?

It is sheer pornography fed into the spirit, nothing else.

And the veil was removed from my face in October 1990 when I had a spiritual encounter with changed my life and mind completely. I realized what a misuse it was of a God-given ability – instead of writing to give “life”, I often contributed to the death of relationships and goodwill between people through articles that sold the magazine. (Now this does not mean that I stopped writing about film stars, savvy women, and rich and famous people after I met with Christ and began to live for Him alone.) I had spent a very large part of my life and career with them befriending them, interviewing them, persuading them to share their deepest secrets with me, and occasionally stabbing them in the back.

However, what I began to write – post-transformation  has been positive and compassionate things about them which inspire others (and which I would not have dreamed of writing earlier for we only saw them with yellow eyes). I have obliterated smut and sleaze from my treasure chest, no matter what its value in the mercenary marketplace. As an editor, conscious of sales and TRPs, I  had defended my work saying that it is the public that likes juicy scoops and exclusives, even if they are not kosher. Today, I have realized that it should be the writer and the editor that influences the readers and not the other way around. I agree with whoever it was who said that these sort of stories when written, define the writer, not the persons they are writing about.

Therefore, it was difficult but not impossible, to switch off the demeaning video on the Duchess of Sussex. This is how my conversation with self went:

Why are you watching this?
It’s just time-pass, there is nothing sinful in watching it, is there?
What will you gain by watching it?
Nothing, like I said, it’s time-pass, millions must be watching it.
Are you feeling a better person, a holier-than-Meghan person by watching it? Are you jealous of her?
Rubbish, I don’t know her from a hole in the ground. Why should I be jealous of her? I am quite happy with my own life.
Are you aware that everything you take in, finds it’s place within you, gets processed and comes out in your character? And that it gradually begins to chip away any nobility you have. Ask the computer community – it’s called GIGO (garbage in, garbage out).
Don’t be melodramatic. I’m just watching it; I will forget it when I put it off.
Will you? Won’t you be tempted to forward this video to others on WA, just as it was forwarded to you, to show you’re in touch with the latest scoop? Then you will want to chat about it with family and casual visitors. See how much space you are giving it in your life. Can that space not be occupied, and those conversations be carried on with something more fruitful?
Okay, okay. I get the point. I don’t know whether there will be greater fruit in it … I will simply switch off this video … and see the IPL final instead.

WOMEN I WILL LOVE FOREVER (and I cannot say the same about the men who have dotted my lifescape)

“A woman is a tiny divine spark in a timeless sisterhood tapestry collective” – you are so right when you say that, dear Jan Porter. And to that, I add, put together those divine sparks, and what you get is a forest fire of unputoutable flames. These are the women I love, along with several others (no photographs available), who have loved and encouraged me beyond what human scales can measure. Have the happiest day ladies, as I praise God and tell the world what you mean to me.

ESME MEHTA ENTERED MY LIFE: And heaven and earth met. She is a pastor’s wife, but what I cherish about her is that she is not “too good” to be true. She is full of mischief and fun, and as much as we enjoy our prayer times together, we have memorable heart to merry heart meetings which have lifted our spirit no end…

A FRIEND FOR EVERY SEASON: There is something about Sharon that sets her apart – you cannot tie her to any particular country, or quality, or moment in time. She is here one minute, and vanished the next, but our moments together, whether in Maui or Thailand, have been indelibly printed on our respective ‘forever-s’. The blood in her veins (or should that be arteries?) is liberally mixed with encouragement, and no soul that steps in her path is allowed to stay down for more than a minute…

IN DISTRESS, DIAL DEIRDRE: And you have always been there for me, dearest Deirdre Inamdar, sometimes past midnight. I often come to you with a laden heart, then leave with aching sides – so much do we laugh together, and that, I am told, is God’s special gift to a friendship. You are the best! If there are any counselors better than you in Bangalore, I have yet to meet them…

YO YO RELATIONSHIP: Sisters can be loving, but can often give you the most searing blisters too. That just about sums up the relationship I share with my ‘didi’ Charmion Eleanor Marie Albuquerque-Fernandes. She remains fixated about our hometown Ajmer and insists on remaining aradite-bonded to that one horse town, even though all in her family – immediate and extended, have moved to different parts of the nation, and world. So our connection is executed through the phone. This is the passage of an average call between us: tring-tring-tring: warm hello, very nice howdees, exchange of births and deaths (more of the latter) news from both sides, then we mistakenly get on to a contentious (any contentious) issue, scream, shout, fight, SLAM. Many moons later, again tring-tring-tring, warm hello etc.

FAN-TASTIC FERVOR: At one time, she professed to be my fan (“Not fan,” says her husband. “She did not want to be ‘like’ you –she wanted to be you!”) … then I became hers. Esther Chandy and I have an ‘eternity bond’ that nothing and no one can take from us. Even when her moody and temperamental husband and I have one of our showdowns and remain katti for months, sometimes years, I know I am always safely hidden in Esther’s heart. I even named my most precious African love bird after her (those who know me, will testify what a great privilege that is)…

GOOD, BETTER, AND BEYOND: Once in a lifetime, a human being gets a friend like Urvashi Thacker, Indian Queen of Bonsai cultivation. and she came into my life from the faraway galaxies. My staunchest ally (dare you not say a word against me in her presence or you might get a black eye), we have worked mutually at the fine art of putting finesse to character. She has made me a better person, and I believe, I have done the same for her. Our friendship is based on life-values…

LOVE ME, LOVE MY LYDIA: Yes she is the d-i-l…expand that to stand for daughter I love. She has brought a lot of love, laughter, style, music, and (why be hypocritical?) occasional tears too, in my life. However, I do not know how I existed before her advent into our home. She is my son Johann’s greatest gift to me, but don’t tell him that (sons can be so insufferable as some mothers may know)…

OPPOSITES STAY ATTACHED: I am more Joyce Premila’s friend than she is mine. But that’s okay, life’s like that. Sometimes you just can’t help loving and feeling for certain people. All I want for my dear friend is for her to one day meet the right man, (are men blind or what?) marry him, and settle down to a happy-ever-after saga. But to do that darling Joyce, you have to move on. Mountains will show up, valleys will suddenly cave in – but I KNOW you have in you the strength to pick yourself up and march firmly on. Believe me, I can see the rainbow in your cloud.

LIKE TO BE LIKE HER: Usually, I have tried to remain happy within my own skin. However, if compelled to go in for a skin transfer, I would vote for an exchange with the skin of Indonesia’s Maimunah Natasha, and this has nothing to do with her many industries, her verve, or her inexhaustible energy! My close friend and I went through the same major crossroad in life, but she handled the transition and “the life after…’ much better than I did, and is today full of wisdom, compassion, and a heart of service. She gets exasperated and wild at my laziness and negligence, but it doesn’t lessen her love and firm friendship…

MY FOUR EYES: Once I looked at the world through the eyes that resided behind my rose-tinted glasses. They have been replaced by the eyes of these two young ladies who incidentally and inaccurately are called my daughters – truth is, today, I am the daughter with two mothers, and I am ever grateful for the role reversal . I love you to crazy heights and depths and widths, dear Jackie Olivia and Janet Lucinda, and all I pray for you is that you fulfill your destiny in Christ. You make me so deliriously happy to be alive (here are we with a Kerala tan, in God’s own country)…

TRUE, STRONG & EVERLASTING: If I haven’t committed more sins than I had, and am not yet consigned to the pit of fire,the credit goes to this lady guru who goes by the name of Lalitha Lee, who became my conscience-keeper from the day we met and became friends. Thank you, Lady L, for never letting me compromise, and living an inspiring life of integrity and service which I would dearly love to emulate…

PRIDE OF BARABADOS: One Veronica wiped the face of Jesus during His Calvary walk. My friend Veronica Evelyn from Barbados is attempting the same in her nation, as she battles with governments and forces to remove moral compromise and social degradation. Proud to have her as my friend, and one of our happiest times together was when she made the trip to Bangalore to spend some days with me here. Though she calls a spade a spade when I’m not walking straight, she is also my angel of encouragement, and takes time off from her hectic world travel (of conferences for social and moral improvement in the world) to reply in detail to every letter I write her…

MY VALENTINE LOVE: Zizou Zelda Solomon, the pub, was born on 14 February, came into my home, and enthroned herself in my heart forever. We are moving toward a decade relationship anniversary, and she understands me best, second only to that man whose initials are JC…

THOSE MISSING EVERLASTING ARMS

Earnestly searching for an emotional anchor in her turbulent career, Sridevi settled for already-married Boney Kapoor, and they bore two daughters, Janvi and Khushi

I did not know Sridevi,  though she and I share the date (if not the year) of our birth. I never met her even once during a 2-decade career as a film journalist with STARDUST magazine (which typically named her ‘thunder thighs’ in its irrepressible, incomparable Neeta’s Natter).

However, I had very close encounters and precious relationships with others listed in the category of actors she belonged to. Category: leading Bollywood women whose lives entangled with a married man with adoring wife and children.
Hema Malini, Rekha, Sarika, Sridevi, Zeenat Aman, Shabana Azmi, Smita Patil, to name just a few of them.
I have been with some of them through poignant personal situations, and firsthand I can report that the one thing they have in common is a warm and loving heart, which simply yearned for a resting place for their spirit from very early in their lives. That is why each made the decision she did. This reflection in this blog is not on the women but on their parents.

We need to look at the Big Picture.

Dysfunctional Background…

Most of those mentioned came from a dysfunctional background, and were thrust into the film industry long before puberty; Sridevi when she was barely four. Due to having to see to several other children, Rekha’s mother launched her in the Hindi film industry, but could not be permanently around in Bombay to attend to her. She would leave her 13-14 year old child in hotels, in the care of specially assigned waiters that they would look after Rekha like she was their own daughter. I leave you to imagine how they cared for her.

It is very possible that far from being greedy and exploitative, the parents in question recognized they’d birthed a child prodigy. In fact, some of the parents endeavored to give the child a ‘normal upbringing’ by bringing in tutors to keep her on level with academics. Others kept a hawk-like vigilant eye to ensure there was no ‘hanky panky’ stuff happening behind the scenes.

Major lack and slack…

The one thing that was lacking in the lives of these women was a moral upbringing. They got expertise in how to handle roles, producers, fans, financial transactions, and a host of other things. What happened to morals and values? The Cambridge dictionary emphasizes that a moral upbringing is one in which “you are treated and educated when young, especially by your parents, especially in relation to the effect that this has on how you behave and make moral decisions.”

What moral principles reigned in their respective families?

Baby Sarika blindly obeyed her mother

Domineering Mother…

Zeenat, Rekha, Sarika – grew up without a father in the house which left within them an eternal ache for those important under-girding, everlasting arms of God’s earthly representative in a home. They got into relationships early in life not because they were promiscuous but because of a craving for those missing arms. Rekha’s famous father, Gemini Ganesan, did not even acknowledge she was his daughter until she became a superstar herself. As infants, we take in a

South Indian actor Gemini Ganesan finally acknowledges Bollywood star Rekha as his daughter

complete sensory experience of our everyday surroundings and this shapes our perception of normalcy, I am sure we do not need the Journal of Genetic Psychology to show the influence of father on daughter’s relationships with other men in her life. Our parents shape and color the lens through which we see and organize meaning about other human interactions, of what we can expect, and what is acceptable in a romantic partner.

God’s created order of man first, never intended a woman to be head of the family. God could have made a woman as physically strong as a man; He did not do so for a reason. The man had to be breadwinner and protector of his wife and children; whereas women are to leave all else and focus on keeping the children on the right track.  Whenever roles were reversed, there has been the inevitable imbalance.

In Hema Malini and Sridevi’s cases, there was a father somewhere in the background; kept firmly there by a domineering mother who met producers and demanded exorbitant prices for the daughter’s signing the dotted line for a film. Would you blame the daughter’s distaste for the goings-on related to her career, and longing for a way out; add this to the already-existent thirst for the missing arms of an abdicating father. Undiluted vulnerability!

Hema Malini liked (best actor in the Indian subcontinent) Sanjeev Kumar, may have even married him, but her Amma said No. Mrs. Chakravorthy wanted her daughter to enjoy more of her career success.

Only later, when she found Hema getting involved with Dharmendra, did Amma tell me, in private, to convey to Sanjeev that it was Amma and not Hema who had said No, and that Amma was now ready to consider his proposal. When I passed on the whispered message to Sanjeev, he gave me a look that would have annihilated me if he had not toned it down in consideration of my eighth-month pregnant state at that time. By then, the world knew Hema and Dharmendra were seriously involved.

The ones who bear the brunt …

Dharmendra and Hema Malini married in 1979 under Islamic laws. They had an Iyengar ceremony too on May 2, 1980.

After a lot of family opposition, Hema Malini became the second wife of father-of-four, Dharmendra, in 1980, after converting to Islam. Hema became Aisha Bi R. Chakravarthy and Dharam became Dilawar Khan Kewal Krishn. In an attempt to get public acceptance, the Chakravorthys organized a Hindu ceremony too. Hema was thrilled to have two daughters Esha and Ahana … and continued to love them unconditionally, even though both reportedly survived adolescence only due to chemical dependence. Finally, they  married  businessmen who came in from the cold.

That is the problem – because of their own impeded background, the women made their sanity-saving choices, not realizing that one day, their children would bear the consequences of their decision.

Smita’s son Prateik is finding it enormously difficult to get a grip on his life

Prateik Babbar, who lost his mother actress Smita Patil, a few days after his birth in 1986, suffered more than the other children-of-the-second-wife-syndrome. Hear his pain in his own words: ”My first real drug was a disturbed childhood. Constantly faced with internal dilemma, and the (unrelenting) voices in my head debating who I am and where I belong, drugs came as a welcomed escape. I got acquainted with the narcotic underbelly, which led me to my first run-in with drugs when I was 13.”

After going into serious rehab, he has now been clean for over a year, but still alert to the enemy within. “I am certain that I will wrestle my need for drugs even on my best days, but the only way to keep cynicism at bay is by sharing the emotions that fueled my addiction in the first place.”

Throwing wisdom to the winds…

In Shabana’s case, at least there are no children from her side to consider (the adult children from his side and first wife Honey, went through hell as they can tell you).

She married Javed despite her better judgment – Shabana takes the plunge

I am surprised Shabana Azmi made the decision she did with regard to Javed Akhtar. Her poet, philosopher, mentor father, Kaifi Azmi, did not even believe fully in marriage, and went to the extent of prophesying (in an exclusive interview with this writer) a day would come when the institution of marriage would be wiped out, and children would be “the responsibility of the state.” When Shabana and Javed began to get involved, she informed her father, and asked him, “Is he (Javed) wrong for me?” Kaifi said, “He is not wrong, but the circumstances are wrong.” To that, she asked her father, “What if I change the circumstances?” Kaifi Azmi said,” Then it will be okay.”

Despite that, Shabana agonized for many seasons over her decision. Despite their being screen rivals, she had met Smita Patil after the latter married Raj Babbar. She got a firsthand report of how torturous the situation is when there is a first wife still alive, and children to consider. I met her once at her quaint and lovely place Janki Kutir, at our pre-arranged time of 7.30 AM and found her in total disarray. Javed and she had been walking the whole night on Juhu Beach trying to sort out the dilemma of their relationship. I asked her what she was going to do. She put her hands in her head and said, “I don’t think I can go ahead with it. There is too much suffering involved. I can’t go through what Smita is going through.”

Ultimately, her emotions got the better of her. Since Javed had reportedly had an irreversible operation, there was no question of children. Sad that a brilliant actor of Shabana’s caliber leaves us with no legacy of a child who could take forward her brilliant talent.

O Sridevi…

Let’s get back to where we started out – the actor of the hour, the queen of our hurting hearts, Sridevi.

A great actress, a warm and shy human being – Sridevi was the best, no two opinions

India (if the prime news channels can be said to reflect the country) stood still for the days following the unexpected death, as her mortal remains were withheld by the authorities in Dubai where she passed away in not an ordinary situation. Every channel and newspaper hailed her as India’s first superstar, packed with talent that put her head and lovely shoulders above every other Bollywood heroine of her generation.

They are 200% correct, that is beyond debate.

Like every actress named above, Sridevi too was a good girl in every sense of the word – loyal to her parents, faithful to her craft, and her work. When she and Mithun Chakraborty got romantically drawn to each other, it had nothing to do with an affair, or a fling. She really wanted to marry him and make a home for him and settle down. And he, with her. Only problem is he was already married to Yogita, and they were parenting three really cute children. Yogita, who is as sweet and naïve as they come, said, “I will not leave my husband whatever he does, I will always be his wife; he can take on a second wife if he wants, I will not object.”

That sealed the matter, as far as Mithun was concerned. The relationship with Sridevi was switched off with immediate effect, and first husband and first wife had a fourth child to seal their marriage forever.

In Boney Kapoor’s case, he was the one who pursued Sridevi. She resisted, but then suddenly, her father died, and during those heartbroken days, Boney showed up in trumps, and that pulled the rug out of her resistance. He coaxed his wife Mona that they needed to show kindness to Sridevi in her hour of need, and even brought her to live in his home. Mona permitted it because she was told Sridevi once tied a raakhi on Boney Kapoor and the wife believed that to be their relationship until the husband finally revealed he was in love with Sridevi.

The rest is history. The lesson to learn is that the home, and marriage space, is a sacred sanctuary, which should never allow a third person of either gender into its holy territory. It does not make God happy. It allows elements from evil quarters to enter the scene to devour.

Why bring it up now?

If not now, then when? When ‘love stories’ are crested in stone, etching them out to be inspirational duets (to romantic generations that follow) ?… which they are not. If Nargis Dutt were alive, she would testify how after the Hema-Dharam marriage in 1980, MP Mrs. Dutt was accosted in Parliament by other MPs who demanded from her an explanation on the Dharmendra-Hema marriage and the bad effect it would have on the nation by inspiring middle-class movie star worshippers to emulate their favorite couple. Before she could investigate to reply to Parliament, Nargis was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and she died a year later.

(A suggestion: Can our current Prime Minister use his Aadhaar network to find out how many middle class couples, in the year 1980, had men taking on second wives or sweethearts, damning the consequences, and impacting their children forever (who in turn, will do things that will subsequently impact their children and the generations that follow). There were thousands! I was a columnist in MID-DAY at that time and had a firsthand news byte from the newspaper that one of the staff members had married his wife’s younger sister, and brought her to live in the home with his first wife and children.)

Hema on the warpath…

It was with all that in mind, many years ago, I spoke to Ms. Malini, when we met in the beautiful bungalow she lived in with her two school-going daughters. The meeting was to discuss her becoming the next SAVVY Woman of the Month – it was a pedestal (first person, beginning to end) the magazine accorded to a woman who can change life for the better of other women in India. Hema got the mistaken notion that the magazine would project her as a woman who has ‘eaten her cake and has it too’. (The proverb actually means you cannot simultaneously retain your cake and eat it too, and means that one cannot or should not try to have two incompatible things at the same time.)

She was flabbergasted when I informed her that we would only carry her “I Believe” (the title name of the feature) if the ‘hook’ of the story would see her admitting that she had made a mistake by marrying a married man, and she would advise other women in the country to never make the same error. She was furious, and said she did not think it was a mistake. I said it may appear she has got away with it, but pointed her to Smita Patil, and several other film as well as middle-class persons who were suffering the consequences of following in the Hema-Dharam footsteps.

She tilted her nose upwards in that style that is typically Malini, and said stubbornly, “I did what was right for me.” Then sorry, there would be no cover, no story. At least not during my tenure. The journalist who accompanied me, was shocked by my stand because she felt a story would be a story no matter what the celebrity came out with.

That, I would say, is what has gone wrong with the world. Commerce is rated higher than Morality in particular with the media.

In conclusion …

All the women in this article, I repeat, were decent girls, with character, and commitment, and would have made A-1+ wives to first-time husbands. However, due to the emotional deprivation of their childhood, because of little moral upbringing and no true relationship with God encouraged, they made the decisions they did, and things worked out the way they have, in many cases, tragically.

The Kamal Hassan-Vani Ganpathi marriage broke up when Sarika came on the scene. Sarika took her liberation further: her daughter Shruti was born in 1986, out of marriage. So she married Kamal only after their second daughter Akshara was born five years later. She wanted both children to have the same birth status

Do you believe God created the world? Then you will note some traits of His character in the earth we live in: it’s a world of perfect order – day follows night, seasons follow each others, the sun never goes on strike, the earth is governed by natural laws.

Well, if God has been so particular and specific about the natural laws of the universe, imagine how stringent He is about the moral laws that govern the hearts lives of human beings who are created in His image and which have to be lived according to the divinely-inspired rules of civilization.

Twist the rules, and what is likely to happen?

I love the way novelist Wallace Stegner puts it in his novel, All the Little Live Things: “It is the beginning of wisdom when you recognize that the best you can do is choose which rules you want to live by.” He added: “It is persistent and aggravated imbecility to pretend you can live without any.”

 

COMES WITH THE PERKS, YOU JERK!

Savvy Editor (in front) with her very first editorial team before she took the songs and sins of the Savvy Women of India on her weak and frail shoulders (Thanks Anil Singh for the pic.)

Think of it as the earth suddenly switching sides and beginning to rotate from west to east.

Can a person who at one time received a national award for pioneering journalism that chartered a “brave new course for women”… at another time be arrested for pornography?

I was.

Today, I look at all these persons – heroes and trend-setters one day, and scamsters the next – and I wonder, ‘How much of it is genuine dishonesty, and how much a terrible conspiracy of circumstances and rivals?’

I tasted of that bitter gall when I was somewhere near the pinnacle of career success. ABC figures had just been released to reveal that the magazine I was editing – SAVVY – had crossed the circulation figures of the then leading women’s magazine FEMINA.

My team and I, heads swollen and hearts dizzy, we were soaring, and when you soar, you dare. My Assistant Editor Shrikala asked if she could have a go at our newly-launched Photo-Fiction series, I readily gave her the green signal. I would have said Yes to anything in the mood of the season.

Photo-Fiction was exactly what its name suggests – fiction told in good photographs. Srikala’s script was about rape and life after rape. She got a small-time Marathi film actress to play the lead role, and took our best photographer to capture moments that told her story poignantly. One of the pictures on the story board was a bit graphic – it displayed the villain atop the heroine; I thought it looked a little “down-market”; however, Srikala argued passionately, ‘A rape is a down-market episode, who expects it to be elite or classy?’ I liked my staffers to have spunk. When they exhibited spirit – they won. The down-market picture went to the press with everything and everyone else and won the heart of readers.

Two days after that issue of the magazine was released, a few hours after it had sold out, the evening tabloid – MID-DAY – carried a front-page story titled, ‘Editor of SAVVY in trouble’. I was on my editor’s desk, and before I could get to the ‘body copy’ of the article, my direct phone line shrilled me out of the shock that had made my ears drum.

The Assistant Police Commissioner was on the line. He invited me over to his office immediately for a cup of tea.

The publisher of the company I worked for was in another country; the administrative manager was nowhere to be found. I took one of the floating non-descript administrative juniors with me and went to the police official’s chamber. He was super-friendly, told me how crazy his wife was about SAVVY, and how they had serious quarrels when he forgot to take it home on the very day it was released. He gave me the promised cup of tea, then read me the Miranda Rights, told me to pay Rs 99 or Rs 999 or something like that. I suddenly realized we had walked straight into a trap, I began to tremble from head to foot, I wanted to scream, protest, but no words were being released out of my stuck jaws. The administrative junior who had come along with me was floating somewhere in the dark shadows. Ironically, the police official was very kind. He said to me in undertones, “Don’t take this seriously. This is just a formality. Sign this document and go home and forget about everything.”

Forget? Next minute – since pornography is a criminal offence –the police staff photographer proceeded to take my picture from different angles. My thumb imprint in black ink was taken. Then miraculously, we were told we could go.  My family was out of town enjoying a holiday I’d had to skip because of my never-ending work commitments. I was on my own.

Everything around me turned sepia-toned and there was a buzzing in my head, a terrible tightness in my throat. Other journalists and editors from the organization began to drift into my cabin, wanting to know full details of what had transpired. Nobody was really sorry. Just like I had never been sorry about the people whose lives had got impacted by the many stories I wrote day in and day out.

The truth must be told, was the dictum of the game.

Well, here was another truth. It may have been Srikala’s photo-fiction, her design and layout; however, I was the editor of the magazine and this was the point at which I was meant to really earn my salary. Raps came along with perks. I went to an empty house that night; the shadows had never seemed so elongated. It was the kind of night you realized why the last word in lonesome is me.

Many publications carried the story* – dog delightfully ate dog – and the cruelest cut was the one in which actress Shabana Azmi, who’d helped me start SAVVY, gave a gleeful comment indicating that it was good it had happened. Dully, I dialed her number, asked her why she had said such things. “Because I mean them,” she said with her famous sting, “with what noble intentions we had started out on this magazine, and just look at what it has degenerated into.”

The loneliness then began to impede normal breathing.

In the days that followed, I became quiet and subdued, a shadow of my old self. Editorial colleagues suggested I was taking the whole thing far too seriously, and one of the other women editors even called me stupid. She explained why: “If I were in your place, I would have made a new wardrobe, gone for parties, and capitalized on it, turned it to my advantage.”

May I be excused for not seeing any advantage in that worst nightmare of my existence? All I could see was the black bleakness of disgrace.

However, like Scripture promises, “Weeping may be there in the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” The day did dawn when I could hear the birds singing again, realize that the public had forgotten and so could I.

I did not quit. One has got to stand up where one falls. I continued to enjoy work, but I did not let it consume me like a demanding mistress as it did before. I spent a lot of “quiet time” with the Lord who proved to me that He was, He is, and will always be the Only One there when the music fades and all is swept away. I began to spend quality and quantity time with my children; helping them in the studies; singing and dancing with them as and when their spirits were stirred; going on the most pleasurable family trips.

At some point, it got revealed that the police action had been prompted by a rival magazine. In an attempt to milk the situation for all it was worth, my publishing company experts wanted to counter-file so that they could extract maximum publicity out of it.

I said, ‘Thank you but no thank you.’

Like some old wise guy said, ‘A war does not determine who’s right. A war determines who’s left.’

You did not die. You are alive. Have learnt what you were meant to. Now move on, stupid, and fast!

(This article first appeared in CHICKEN SOUP FOR THE SOUL, Workplace Edition)

*The INDIA TODAY write-up following the incident:

https://www.indiatoday.in/magazine/crime/story/19880615-uproar-over-obscene-writings-editors-of-savvy-and-marathi-tabloid-gaganbhedi-hauled-up-797368-1988-06-15

 

 

THE BIG FAT BANGALORE WEDDING

The Wedding of the Season – Rumela Ann Badra and Samuel Alfred Mathison with friends

It was an epiphanic moment during a heart-capturing, mind-numbing, heart-squeezing, and feet-killing wedding festival to celebrate the marriage of Rumela Ann Bhadra to Samuel Alfred Mathison.

However, before we get to the epiphany, let me talk about another ‘e’ word – extravagance, of which I have always been skeptical.

The special logo designed for the couple was used on all the wedding stationary

This extravaganza went on for several days and the guests were literally soaked in emotional and lavish mornings, afternoons, evenings, and nights. It was a luxurious soiree. The bride’s family arranged for guests from different corners of the world and India to be picked up from the “out of town” Bangalore international airport and subsequently deposited in luxurious homes and hotels all over the city. Many of these guests were from the US of A, which was not surprising since both Rumela and her brother Aaron (who had brought along his American fiancé) have gone to University there and have now made Trump-land their home.

Just before setting out – Deirdre, son Aaron, his American fiance, Rumela and their father Swapan

The Gaye Holud (or haldi) ritual had almost all guests in breath-taking Bengali (Rumela is part Bengali) matching attire, and the foreigners sported their saris to perfection, the men their dhotis and the little girls their ghagra-cholis. The bride-to-be was carried majestically on a throne like chair to the pandal were she sat as haldi was applied and blessings were showered upon her. The significance of the haldi was to ward off the evil eye, and protect the bride and groom from any bad omen that might harm them before their big day. It was also a symbol of blessings and purification. In a spiritual burst of creativity, Deirdre, mother of the bride, had requested friends and relatives to write out their blessings in biblical verses to be put in an album along with the wedding pictures and preserved for posterity.

A beautiful Indian ritual – the cleansing and purifying Halud ceremony

The event was replete with lots of music, fun and tasty food, and then SPLASH! the madness of the wedding festivities began. There was a dizzying low-light evening at an Italian restaurant where pop and romantic songs were crooned late into the night. Evidently, energies were being reserved for the sangeet held next day at the luxurious Gayatri Vihar where one could see the most exquisite designer wear under one roof. More than the Indian guests, once more, the ‘furriners’ were the ones who sported the right attire of ghararas, shararas, sherwanis and what have you. At the entrance were specialists assigned to dress the men in turbans. There were on-the-spot bangle-making artisans, henna appliers, and a photo booth for all to take home beautiful photo souvenirs of the occasion.

A moment together at the Sangeet – the couple get some fresh air

The Americans were simply delighted! The sporting bridegroom-to-be allowed himself to be mounted on a ghodi to enter the venue. The drums in double base, burst into a crescendo, as the bride-to-be was later floated in on large princess type lower half of a palanquin.
In a super high glam quotient of an Indian wedding, the Rumela-Sam sangeet ceremony evolved into the focal point of the pre-wedding ceremony. The days of singing simple, traditional songs with dolaks, spoons, and harmonium, are history. This was a meticulously planned event put together by wedding planners and event managers to provide a seamless experience that transported everyone into a frenzy of dancing, delight, eating, more dancing, more eating, and more delight.
The next evening, thousands of kilos of flowers and exquisite centerpieces and keepsakes went into the decoration of the wedding venue at Botania, in Gardenia. The theme (at last) is Western.

Great moment for a father, greatest for his daughter –Swapan Badra leads Rumela up the aisle

Finally, Americans are looking like Americans! On her smashing-looker father Swapan Batra’s arm, Rumela slow-walked up the aisle regally, like she was created for this day. I wanted to ask my neighbor whether the diamonds in her tiara were real, then I decided to quietly swallow my ignorance instead. The masti was over, now was the sobering moment of reality. Rumela, daughter of Deirdre and Swapan was signing off daughterhood, and becoming Sam’s wife. I had trouble remembering that the Pastor conducting the marital vows was Henry D’Souza and not Sourav Ganguly, but most of all I was enraptured by Duncan Watkinson’s wedding message. Appropriate, light, humorous but with an unmissable message that marriage (especially in today’s times) has trouble succeeding if Christ is not accepted as the third person in the marriage. A Punjabi couple sitting in front took in every word he said; and later, I heard others discussing it. Duncan should send a copy of the message to some other pastors who would benefit greatly by it. But then, Duncan has the advantage of knowing Rumela from her early years.

The Bridal Team are all aglow after the service proclaiming Sam and Rumela “man & wife”

Actually, Rumela may never have been born. Her mother hand several miscarriages, and even during this pregnancy, the problems were acute. Friends, consultants, and medical know-alls seriously wanted Deirdre to abort the child. Deirdre clung to a Scriptural verse (Matthew 9:20-22) and chose life. God’s gift to her – Rumela.

After the toast was raised and the bridegroom Sam responded to it, he passed on the mic to his new wife. Rumela made an eloquent speech, and broke down a bit as she tried to thank her parents for her life all they had done for her. Then she said simply: “Marrying Sam is the second-best decision of my life. The first was the one I made when I accepted Jesus as my Savior and Lord. It is He who has made me who I am and brought me to where I am today.”

Epiphany!

Strangely, the nuptials were on 6 January, which in many countries is celebrated as the day of Epiphany when wise men came to visit the child Jesus.

“I knew her first,” says Rumela’s pet dog at the entrance to The Mysore Room at Gardenia

However, I use the word epiphany more as the literary term popularized by James Joyce to convey an illuminating discovery or insight or moment, which changes perspective forever.
Did I call this wedding an “extravagance.” My apologies.The Big Fat Bangalore Wedding has been provided for by The Father above Rumela openly honors and serves. Swapan, Deirdre and all those involved in the process have been mere channels of provision from God for His princess Rumela; and He who is debtor to no man will reimburse every payment in double, not forgetting GST.

BEYOND JINGLE IS CHRISTINGLE -The Coat of Peace to Take Your through 2018

The Feasting after the Fasting – Hostess Priscilla D’Gama with her MasterChef son, Stanley, and his gorgeous wife, Rochelle

May I invite you to join me as I relive a Christingle New Year Service I attended recently which has filled me with peace and confidence to take on an enigmatic 2018 that has just walked in the door.

The venue is a devout Catholic household in East Bangalore. Our hostess is a popular social worker of God, who looks like a fountain of ever-flowing joy; no wonder she was once introduced by a priest to the Bishop as “laughing Priscilla.” Her smile is warm, wide, and welcoming. There are around a dozen of us, and catching the tingle (read that as Christingle) of joy in the air, I am suddenly filled with anticipation about what is to follow.

Without further ado, each one gets a ‘Christingle symbol’ (an orange with a red ribbon around its expansive waste, and a candle dug deep into its gullet) and Lady P. explains the proceedings: “This orange represents the world; the red ribbon wrapped around it represents Christ’s blood; and into the orange a candle is inserted and lit to represent the light Christ brought to the world, according to the Bible.” The gathering then joined holy voices to sing the popular chorus, “Light of the world, you stepped down into darkness.”

A guest with a firm and clear voice read a passage from Isaiah which proclaimed that the preserved ones of Israel would be restored, and “I will also give you as a light to the Gentiles, That You should be My salvation to the ends of the earth.” Our hostess’s voice turns solemn as she reminds us, “Like Jesus has been light to us, we need to be a light to one another, and to those who live around us. Just like Jesus and The Father are One, we have to be One – only then can we impact our families, our cities, our country, and then the world.”

Setting foot into 2018 with a Coat of Peace – a beautiful service organized by Priscilla D’gama

By then, the living room is pulsating with life and light, and the peace we are covered with is so tangible, one can reach out and touch it. Then, as an act of thanksgiving, as well as an attitude-shaper to guide us into the year ahead, we sing one of the most beautiful choruses ever composed: “Thank You Lord, for Your blessings on me.” As we sing the chorus again and again, I know that most eyes have turn moist:
There’s a roof up above me
I’ve a good place to sleep
There’s food on my table
And shoes on my feet
You gave me your love Lord
And a fine family
Thank you Lord, for your blessings on me

The service ends but I can see it has actually only begun in our hearts. Through the indescribably delicious and sumptuous meal set and served to perfection by Lady P’s MasterChef son (who, it was once prophesied, would one day serve Kings and Emperors!) and stunning wife, each guest repeats again and again, “What a wonderful way to start the year.” My heart meanwhile is humming softly the lyrics of the second verse of the ‘thank you’ song:

Now I know I’m not wealthy, and these clothes , they’re not new
I don’t have much money, but Lord I have you
And to me that’s all that matters, though the world cannot see
Thank you Lord, for your blessings on me.

Let’s take a minute to look around us and see how much we have been blessed. In a society that is constantly cribbing and grasping for more, this little service has turned us inward so that we can see the light and reflect a positive attitude to those around us. If you have not been to a Christingle service, organize one in your home, and do your bit to light the flames of love and gratitude in other hearts – that’s what Jesus came to train us for

FYI, the Christingle tradition has been upheld in the UK for nearly 50 years, though its origin is much older. At a children’s service held at the Moravian Church in Germany in 1747, the minister, Bishop Johannes de Watteville used it to explain Jesus’ significance to the young in a simple manner. Handing each of them a Christingle orange, wrapped in red, with a lighted candle, he would say the prayer: “Lord Jesus, kindle a flame in these children’s hearts that theirs like thine become.”

Ours too, Lord please.

SHASHI NOW … ME NEXT?

The late star Shashi Kapoor was as good as they get, and his backbone was his English wife Jennifer without whom both he and the family disintegrated

Shashi Kapoor has made a graceful exit, is being deeply mourned by genuine filmgoers, and I can’t help wondering who will be next. If it is going to be me, I still have a lot to do before I will be considered worthy to participate in the Rapture and meet Jesus in the clouds.

I was not close to “Shashi-baba” as we called him at STARDUST but I knew him. We were four reporters and a fascinating and wise editor called Shobha (then not De or Kilachand, but Rajayadaksha). She divided the stars between the reporters, personality-wise, so each reporter could establish a good working relationship with the stars in his or her quota. The best writer (and noblest human being I might add) was a smart and quick-on-the-uptake reporter called Uma Rao. She got all the stylish and upmarket stars like Shashi Kapoor, Sharmila Tagore, Simi Garewal, Feroz Khan, Rajesh Khanna, Zeenat Aman, and Amitabh Bachchan.

Since I was a village bumpkin fresh from Ajmer in Rajasthan, my collection included Dharmendra (from Nasrali, Ludhiana), Vinod Khanna (from Peshawar), Rekha from I don’t-know-where, Neetu Singh also-not-known-from-where-by me, Hema Malini (ditto) and the Kapoor Khandaan (who may have built studios and made many films but basically remained desi, with Papa Prithviraj hailing from Samundri,Punjab).

Poor reporter Binoy Thomas (who subsequently became editor of SOCIETY magazine) got those that were leftover, including stars from Sunil Dutt, Jayapradha, lovely Lakshmi, to Shakti Kapoor. Shakti’s name was actually Sunil, but he changed it to Shakti in respect for Sunil Dutt who, after all, was launching him in the film industry. Binoy truly appreciated Dutt saab but could never understand why the star would say to him, “I will kaal you to my foam”and not “I will call you to my farm.”

That left the bade-ghar-ki-beti Vanita Bakshi-Ghosh (subsequently editor of STARDUST, a close friend of mine, and chief bridesmaid at my wedding) with stars like Asha Parekh, Padmini Kolhapure, Mithun Chakraborty, wagera.

Anyway, let’s get back to my memorial on Shashi Kapoor. I kept a distance from him for he was far too stylish and smart for me and I feared I might say the wrong thing. But he would still seek me out and turn me beetroot red whenever he could. The first time we met was on the sets of the muhurat of Paap Aur Punya (I forgot to mention my quota of work included all the muhurats and film parties; Binoy was made to accompany me, a task he hated). Shashi looked at me and said to his co-star Sharmila, “Just look at her, isn’t she cute?” Sharmila Tagore looked at me closely and said as only Sharmila Tagore could say (no other woman in the world can be like Sharmila Tagore, don’t you agree), “Well, I think she has got a very average-looking face, but I guess she is okay.”

We met again, the three of us, when I was invited to the Paap Aur Punya shooting at Jaipur. I was thrilled to be going there since the thought of Jaipur being next to Ajmer my hometown was comforting. Imagine my surprise, nay delight, when Gopal Pandey (the PRO of the film) called me in my 5-star room that night to tell me that “Shashi saab” had arranged for a Mercedes car to arrive early morning to take me to Ajmer to visit my parents. I was so glad that I got this call late at night. This meant there was no way of calling my editor to check whether I could go or not; she would positively have said “No” since STARDUST had a strict policy of us not accepting anything from the stars.

When the Mercedes stopped before my parents house in Ajmer, people came running around the car thinking somebody famous had come. When they saw who emerged, they were a little annoyed, “Arrey, yeh to chhoti didi hi hai.”

The next  memory I have of Shashi-baba is the night I returned to Jaipur after the Ajmer trip. The producer of the film had invited the press for a lavish dinner at some big hotel. A huge crowd had collected outside the hotel to see the stars, and cheered madly for Shashi and Sharmila. And can you imagine this, when I got out of the lowly ambassador along with my press colleagues, suddenly the crowd surged towards us, shouting, “Dimple Kapadia, Dimple Kapadia” (Bobby had been released a couple of weeks before that). I did not know what to do. Shashi quickly came to us, and put his arm around me, protectively, saying, “They are thinking you are Dimple.”

I was on two clouds of nine for ten days after; for being mistaken for Dimple and also at the romantic thought of Shashi Kapoor’s protective arm around me. Thank You, God, for these memories for a lifetime.

The fourth and final memory I have is of the press show of Paap Aur Punya at what was then the Blaze Mini Theatre; the stars graced the presence too. After the movie, when high tea was being served, director Prayag Raj asked me whether I would have tea, coffee, or soft drink, Shashi-baba (who was in another group but overheard), shouted, “Give her a glass of milk.” I turned crimson while others who heard laughed. Later, my colleague Uma Rao told me that instead of smarting, I should have shot back, “Don’t forget the sugar and one teaspoon of Bournvita.” But then Uma was ultra smart, and I could never come back like her, despite practicing and rehearsing before a mirror.

One of the TV obits of Shashi called him “the only star who never got into controversies.” Wrong, wrong. He did feature in one rather sad one. Nobody would have ever known about it. But then, nothing on earth could prevent our magazine STARDUST from getting to know all these dark and deep secrets. And carry it we did (despite the fact that he was a favorite of the magazine and everyone in it).

Don’t you dare wait for me to tell you what that controversy was! I was secretly against us carrying it then, and I certainly will not dig up the dust now when  all traces of files and reports have mysteriously vanished even from Breach Candy Hospital.

A man who was kind enough to send me in a Mercedes to visit my parents did not deserve that.

JESUS IN THE LATEST BOLLYWOOD HIT FILM

IMAGINE  getting a Biblical solution to a current Church problem bang in the middle of a Bollywood film! 

I would advise Christians as well as future Christians (I never dare to call persons non-Christians or unbelievers. Everybody believes in something. “Non” on the other hand, negates existence itself) to see the recently released ‘Newton.’ This is not a film review, and I am not going to waste bytes and pieces telling you the story of the film that is India’s official entry for the Oscars. I will simply take you to the Jesus parts of the film.

First, just a few words about the backdrop and the central character: Newton (Yeshua?) Kumar, rookie government clerk, finds himself in the conflict-ridden, Maoists-infected jungles of Chattisgarh. 3 pieces of information you can bank in your knowledge chamber of mind:

 The actual election officer feigned ‘heart problem’ at the last moment since the previous election in that region had seen 19 deaths. Nobody else wanted to go; so Newton got the assignment.
 Maoists or Naxalites? Could be either since the terms are used inter-changeably. Naxalism originated in 1967 as a rebellion against marginalization of poor forest development and grew as a movement against lack of development and poverty in the region. Naxal’ was the name of the village. Maoism was the fruit of the original uprising; Maoists work with an agenda and use weapons to get what they want. Naxalism focuses on the original theme and focuses on mass organization.
 Chhattisgarh is been named so because of 36 forts or else the 36 feudal territories it comprises. Divided opinion, but it must be true. Why else would anyone call a place Chhattisgarh?

Newton baba (get set to make him your favorite hero; he is mine already) is faced with total non-cooperation from the police officials of the region and has also to bear with lack of enthusiasm from his own team subordinates. However, despite there being abs nothing in favor of him and his assignment, Newton Kumar tries everything within his power to conduct a fair voting process in the region.

I know many Christians – including Catholics and Protestants – who do not want to go to Church today. They love the Lord sincerely and want to live for Him and perhaps even die for Him, but not within the portals of the local or worldwide church. I will quote author Peggy Wells who encapsulates the reasons best. She says, “We come to church desiring to connect and belong. In the spiritual family setting, we do not expect to get hurt. However, many of us get shot, not in the foot, but in the heart. Church has been reduced to a social clique I don’t feel part of because it’s being run like a corporate company today.” The Church was supposed to go into the World and affect it for Christ. Instead, the World has come into Church and transformed it and consumed it until you cannot recognize it anymore. Why would you want to be part of it? This is the general feeling of those who have stopped going to church.

In the same vein, look at the election process and democracy in India which is viewed as a stunt show and have stopped exercising their ballot right. As writer, Anil puts it, “A gigantic farce on the people of the country at huge cost… Never has the electoral process been as vulgar, degenerate and cheap…” We are aware, for instance, that after the dissolution of the Parliament, the BJP spent 400 crores on its advertising campaign alone. He says passionately, “Rs 400 crores could have fed millions of starving families for months. Now, film stars pose with politicians, and sell themselves to the criminal political mafia in return for favors.”

Scams after scams are soaking the news channels today prove that all expenses are recovered with extra taxes after the elections. So, why vote?  Yet, there are also die-hard optimists who continue to participate in elections, believing it to be a genuine democratic process, in the biggest democracy of the world. Their reason is, “One needs to choose the better of the two evils, with whatever flaws at least there is some democracy.”

So there is the similarity between the Church and the democratic process

Both are going to seed, and those who participate do so with helpless resignation or indifference … while some prefer to stay away.

What is a genuine believer  meant to do in such a despairing situation?

What this sensational actor, Rajkumar Rao, does in Newton. As a ‘type of Christ’, with endearing simplicity and blinking innocence in every expression, he does what he has to, what has been assigned to him. He is idealistic and committed; ready to have his face shoved in the dust if necessary, but will fulfill his duty at any cost.

We may have started out the same way in our faith walk. Initially, we wanted to change the world, our evangelical souls were on fire. Then, due to all we encountered, personally and impersonally, we allowed ourselves to be tainted by the corruption, injustice, wrongdoing, and cynicism that have become a second skin to the people in this country, including the precious souls in the church.

Through Newton Kumar, I learnt it is possible to keep yourself pure even amid a soaking environment of compromise and immorality. Think about changing the world later; first keep to the biblical brief given to you. I know Jesus wants me to be part of the His Body (the Church, its people), the Word of God clearly instructs (Hebrews 10:24-25) that being an active (not an indifferent, uninvolved) part of a church is mandatory.

The naïve Newton, like down to earth Jesus, executed his assignment, without any great fuss and drama, simply doing what he was called to do. Galilee and regions around it were hardly known globally then, and when Jesus died, only a few hundred people may have known Him or about Him. Today, Christianity is the world’s largest religion, with 2.2 billion adherents (31% of the total) of the 6.9 billion people on Earth. All because of one Man following His calling and doing His work diligently.

Let us keep our sights and energies to help us focus on doing our own job, rather than spending a lot of time analyzing those around us, then the church and the country will be a better place to live in.

BTW, there is a reason why he is called Newton. Do not expect me to reveal that to you. Stop tried to see the movie from over my shoulder.

Buy your own ticket.

This article first appeared in Indian Catholic Matters https://indiancatholicmatters.org/