While surfing through the views website 'Daily O' I came across a link for an article on the right quad titled 'How Mastram Saved Me and My Generation'. For anyone who grew up in the country’s cow belt during late 60s and in 70s Mastram would definitely ring a bell.
In those days of licence permit raj era, when everything was either rationed or in short supply, erotica and porn were no exception. For coming of age teens, the prevailing uptight society offered little to satiate their newly acquired hormonal surge.
Any mingling with opposite sex was frowned upon and any conversation with them beyond 2-3 sentences (and that too on any topic other than class work and home work) would invite the attention of prying eyes (often of friendly neighbourhood auntyjis) and tongues would wag about a ‘chakkar’ in offing.
Those were pre-television days and the word 'internet' was probably not even coined. Hence, as visual entertainment we had to make do with a monthly or fortnightly visit to the theatres to watch Hindi movies, which of course were laden with the social mores of the 70s (which would make Victorian era prudery appear Bohemian). Coy heroines used to snub their restless, lovelorn heroes, raring to get intimate, with a standard gag ‘Abhi nahin shaadi ke baad’.
Amidst this yawning demand-supply gap functioned some Hindi erotica magazines printed at some underground press and among them novellas (not running to more that 50-60 pages) penned under the pseudonym Mastram enjoyed a best-seller status.
The print and paper quality was very basic. However the paperback size and soft cover proved convenient as they could be snugly rolled into pockets, or even tucked inside socks.
In our godforsaken PSU industrial township, almost 60 km away from nearest full fledged town, they were not available. They were shipped in by those touring cities like Delhi, Agra, Jaipur etc or those pursuing college education in distant towns and staying in hostels. These books were treated like contraband and moved around stealthily to avoid detection of teachers, parents, sisters and younger siblings.
During school intervals or free periods we often used to sit huddled in the remote corners of play ground to have ‘reading sessions’. One guy would read discreetly and others would listen with amusement and suppressed giggles. The plots were contrived and trespass into all possible taboo relationships (mostly of devar-bhabi and jija-saali liaisons) in the society.
The erotica laden prose helped us improve our Hindi vocabulary (at least we got to know various synonyms of private parts in both Sanskritized and Urduized Hindi) and often functioned as a de facto sex educator, though of dubious authenticity.
During conversations with friends one of the topics used to be regarding the authorship and we used to wonder whether it was one person or more. Hence was surprised to hear that there was a movie in 2014 by the name Mastram, but even that was a ‘fictional biography’. So the mystery around the writer/writers lives on.
Also Read: Bangalore Beat
I am one of those who has been labelled as 'also ran' in the currency pantheon and command little respect - either from users or even counterfeiters.
Though I had seen better days in 1970s, when average salaries used to be less than Rs 1,000, or even earlier period when average salaries were few hundred rupees, but all that is history and seems too Harappan to draw any comfort or feel inspired by recalling them.
Ever since I have been smarting under the shadow of my wealthier and much sought after cousins - Rs 500 and Rs 1,000 and relegated to the loose change category, clubbed with lesser mortals like Rs 50 or Rs 10 in the currency hierarchy.
I am not tempting enough to make a policeman wink at traffic infractions nor am I greasy enough for the palms of sundry babus to move files in various government offices.
Thanks to inflationary pressures, my purchasing capacity is so depleted that I cannot help my bearer buy a kilogram of toor dal. Think of it once upon a time (pardon my self pity) I could help a family buy a month's provisions.
However, all changed, changed utterly (my apologies to W.B. Yeats) on November 8. Those who used to hold me reluctantly due to my low denomination and tendency to bloat up their wallets, began to treasure and even hoard me.
On the other hand my wealthier cousins suddenly suffered a total meltdown of their worth. Many of them who were well ensconced in the high security safes and piggy banks for months and years were all hurriedly removed and shipped off to banks and illegal currency changers for exchange or deposit, and ultimately to RBI shredders.
To me it was a mixed feeling. The sudden newfound interest and attention gave me a heady feeling, but I also began feeling sorry for the wealthier peers who got abruptly evicted and packed off to oblivion. It made me feel philosophic about the transitory nature of power and glory.
Though basking in euphoria I was a bit perturbed when I heard about the proposed currency of Rs 2,000 denomination and felt that my new found acceptance would be a short lived one.
My concern got aggravated when TV anchors and WhatsApp forwards started waxing eloquent about some of the never heard of security features of this currency denomination and how it would be a nightmare for counterfeiters.
One of them proclaimed it had a microchip, hitherto found only in ramrod stiff debit and credit cards. Hence it can be tracked by the government using satellites whenever it is stored in bulk.
Another gushed that the embedded nano-GPS chips can provide precise location of the currency and every note can be tracked. The chips are so powerful that even if they are buried 120 metres below the ground they can send signals to satellites.
Hence those looking to stash their fortune underground will have to trade their humble pick axes with borewell drilling machines if they wish to keep their treasure chest away from the long arm of law.
All this information gave me a terrible complex. It was as if the government was letting loose an iPhone 7 into an universe inhabited by telephones of Alexander Graham Bell era.
I waited for the D-day when the banks and ATMs reopened after a day's break to dole out the new currency in exchange of old ones.
At first there were some happy faces of people flaunting their new Rs 2,000 rupee note and soon social media was awash with it.
Look wise I was relieved as it had nothing much to write home about. For some it looked like a glorified version of money used in Monopoly game and for the more plebeian class it was akin to a lottery ticket. For some the pink shade reminded them of Govinda's trousers - which he wore while gyrating to double entendre songs in the 90s.
But amidst all this hilarity I waited with bated breath to know about the much touted chip and its magical qualities. It came as a big anti-climax and relief when the RBI itself put out a statement denying it.
For the the proud owners of the new Rs 2,000 notes, reality began to sink in soon. A few selfies later, when they tried to transact the pink note, they found it had no takers. Even ritzy super markets are refusing to accept them if the bill amount is less than Rs 1,000 or even Rs 1,500 and they are forced to use cards or lower currency denominations.
Thus for me demonetisation has brought back my achche din. Now it has become a national obsession to pine for me and hoard me. And I am really loving it!!
Also Read: Bangalore Beat
"They should include books like Little Women, as it encourages respect towards women at a young age. Even a book like Animal Farm can teach the little ones to love and care for animals,” thus spake Shilpa Shetty, the original leggy lass of Bollywood, until the likes of Deepika Padukone came along.
The winner of Channel 4's Celebrity Big Brother in 2007 was responding to the recent move by the Indian Certificate of Secondary Education students (ICSE) to include Harry Potter, Tintin and Amar Chitra Katha as part of the English syllabus. Lauding the ICSE for the 'great move' she said it would help cultivate imagination and creativity at a young age.
This foot in tonsils remark regarding George Orwell's Animal Farm may or may not have caused a few cracks in the grave of the famous British novelist and short story writer, but for Twitterati it was a mouth watering feast they couldn't resist and #ShilpaShettyReviews was among the top trending hashtags for hours.
Almost every other well known books ranging from classics like Three Musketeers (it's about three Malayalis from Muscat) to bestsellers like Fifty Shades of Grey (It is an amazing coloring book that children will love) were used to troll her. The other worthies were ‘The Hunger Games is a great series on Karwa Chauth’; 'The Fault In Our Stars is a book where two tragic lovers can't marry because of their kundlis' and Point Counter Point: Arnab Goswami makes a point. Then he counters himself. Then he makes another point. Then he pats himself on the back. The interviewee goes home, silently sobbing.
With the country going through a crippling cash crunch following demonetisation (another trending topic) of currency notes of Rs 500 and Rs 1,000 denominations, the Twitterati was quite mindful to bring in that too - "Invisible Man is a searing story about RBI Governor Urjit Patel during demonetisation".
Shilpa Shetty's Phir Milenge co-star Salman Khan too landed at the wrong end of some hastag jousts - 'One Hundred Years of Solitude is basically Salman Khan's life story'; 'Deer Zindagi is about lives of deer in times of Salman Khan' and "Salman Khan calls #ShilpaShetty to see if the black bucks in her Animal Farm are doing okay."
Any discussion on Bollywood airheads is incomplete without reference to Alia Bhatt, who has been portrayed as the ultimate diva of ignorance-is-bliss school of thought. Many now felt Shilpa could take up Alia's mantle.
However, amid this entire Twitterati titter, not many realised that the above news clip actually appeared not in some nondescript newspaper, but in one of the leading English dailies in the country. It needs to be asked why for an issue related to academics and education the publication thought it fit to look for a quote from an actress. Of late quotes from actors and actresses are elicited for almost any topic under the sun to sex up the story.
Secondly the reporter, who recorded the quote and the editor who put it on the page, both sleepwalked through the gaffe and allowed it to appear in print. These two are equally culpable as Shilpa Shetty ... or was it deliberately overlooked to stir up a social media storm? In this era of post-truth we never know.
Also Read: Bangalore Beat
It used to be said that reel life imitates real, then they became our role models and real started aspiring for reel, and now in this era of narcissistic selfie society the reel life stars have become spokespersons on almost anything under the sun.
With the country sabre rattling with Pakistan over terror attacks and aggressive nationalism being the new credo of political correctness, wearing patriotism on one's sleeve is the new normal. The whole country seems to have become a garrison with every citizen being a combatant. And those in the film industry are no way immune to it.
The other day I came across a 'viral' video widely shared and 'liked' on Facebook, whose title if loosely translated from Hindi to English would mean 'Nana Patekar shows Salman Khan his place'.
The video is a rant by the Tiranga star, who initially buttresses his military credentials by claiming that he had served the army for a couple of years and then goes on to say that the soldier was the most important person in the country. The rest of our countrymen are insignificant and he equates his current profession of being a film star as something as inconsequential as bed bugs.
He then goes on to declare that a ‘jung’ was on with the neighbouring country and hence it can't be business as usual. So Pakistani stars acting in Bollywood was not on.
To be fair he was prodded repeatedly by the videographer to decry Salman Khan and the interviewer finally got more than enough sound bites to cobble up a surefire viral video.
Salman Khan has been a trollers’ delight for his usual foot in mouth remarks. However his recent statement on Pakistani actors was actually a huge deviation from status quo. For a change he really sounded sensible when he said Pakistani actors come with valid visas and they cannot be equated with terrorists.
It would have been a perfectly humane remark at normal times, but it touched a raw nerve post-Uri attacks. While TV studios are vying with each other to play high decibel war drums, it was suicidal to say something on those lines. Salman was declared enemy of the state and many of his industry peers too joined the chorus.
The last I heard on Pakistani actors was that Cinema Owners Exhibitors Association of India (COEAI) has decided not to release movies starring them, in Maharashtra, Gujarat, Karnataka and Goa. Thus Karan Johar's Ai Dil He Mushkil (which has Fawad Khan) and Shah Rukh Khan's Raees (Mahira Khan) run the risk of not hitting the cinema theatres of many states.
Cinema, music concerts, cricket matches are very visible symbols and targeting them often satiates the revenge lust of the chest thumping jingoists like the political senas of Mumbai. For them it provides good return on investment in terms of publicity if they storm studios and multiplexes.
Whereas amid all this turmoil the corporate-bania class happily carries out trade with Pakistan. Hence cheap cement from Pakistan continues to land at our ports and various border trading points and exports from India are shipped to Pakistan without any ado.
Same is the case with China. Now Diwali is round the corner and we are being bombarded with messages to boycott Chinese crackers as it always sides with Pakistan. Irony dies thousand deaths because they are tweeted using phones and laptops laden with components made in Chinese manufacturing hubs like Shenzhen.
While we are fed with swadeshi homilies, our captains of industries make fortunes doing business with the very countries we are being told to hate.
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When the first couple of Page 3 universe Brangelina decided to part ways this website of a little known London based free newspaper City A.M. decided to turn much maligned dumbing down on its head.
While the media and blogosphere was awash with the news about this celeb divorce with jazzy headlines and reporters and analysts were busy splitting hairs over the 'other woman' behind this Page 3 show stopper and the number of zeroes in the impending divorce settlement of this Hollywood power couple, City A.M took a different course.
It decided to give a high brow touch with a bland headline "London School of Economics lecturer to divorce actor husband". It brought to the fore a little known fact of Tomb Raider star being a visiting lecturer at a 'respected' London university, a post she took up as recently as May. However it did display her picture prominently in order to ensure that the reader does not forego the story completely.
Wonder how many lecturers get this kind of publicity when they divorce their spouses?
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While the world was observing the 15th anniversary of 9/11 terror attacks, a 92-year-old woman Greta Friedman passed away in the US. The name hardly rang a bell, but the accompanying picture did.
Like the iconic picture of plane crashing into one of the twin towers, which epitomized terrorism in 21st century, her photo of being kissed by a sailor at New York's Times Square went on to acquire an iconic status to evoke the end of a turbulent era in the 20th century.
The photo was taken on Aug. 14, 1945 - the day Japan agreed to surrender and it marked the end of World War II. Known as V-J Day (victory over Japan), it evoked relief and euphoria in the backdrop of cataclysmic events such as Nazi concentration camps and the nuking of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Since then this particular photograph has been a regular fixture at photo exhibitions and photography classes. Apart from those pursuing serious photography, I mean those clicking beyond selfies, not many knew about the photographer or the people featured in the photo.
Photographer Alfred Eisenstaedt randomly clicked the photo amid the crowded revelry in the Times Square and he had little idea who the people were.The photo was first published in Life magazine without much fanfare, in the inside pages, and gained recognition (or 'got viral' to use a social media term) much later. It was widely reproduced by various publications and so did the reader curiosity regarding the couple.
There were many claimants to be the kissing couple and it was only around 1980 it was confirmed that it was George Mendonsa and Greta Friedman, an Austria-born nurse who lost her parents in Nazi concentration camps.
Those days photography was coming of age, stepping out of the shadows of painting to be an art form in itself. The cameras had become less unwieldy and user friendly (though still primitive by current digital standards), but colour photography was still many decades away.
As only black and white photos were possible Eisenstaedt was looking for contrasts. In his book 'Eisenstaedt on Eisenstaedt: A Self-Portrait' he said, “If she [Friedman] had been dressed in a dark dress I would never have taken the picture. If the sailor had worn a white uniform, the same.”
And the rest they say is history.
Also Read: Bangalore Beat
It's now raining awards and other goodies like BMW cars for the three members who tasted some success at Rio Olympics, out of the 119-strong Olympics contingent that returned after an overall disastrous outing. Compared with last Olympics tally of six medals this time it has been much slimmer pickings with just two medals - a silver and bronze.
However it may be argued that the previous outing was an honourable exception than rule. India's Olympic performance is nothing home to write about. Barring hockey in the pre-astroturf days, the country never made any lasting mark in this global sporting extravaganza.
In this medal starved country such accomplishments call for king's reception, something Michael Phelps and Usain Bolt may envy. They may come home with cart loads of gold medals, but I doubt whether they get the kind of reception which say an Indian bronze or silver medallist, or someone who came close to it, may get on arrival at the New Delhi airport.
It is almost as if for this country of billion people, which has little or no sports culture and treats sportspersons with scant respect, organising such a spectacle is its way of atoning for its sins of ignoring these athletes all these years.
For our sports ministry babus and mandarins, it works out perfectly well, as it is much easier to shower awards and goodies, with the procurement department guys pocketing commissions, than suffer the toil of setting up training facilities and maintaining them good enough to churn out world class athletes.
This mindset is very much evident when Indian contingent goes to participate in the Olympics. The number of officials is always higher than that of athletes. It has been our hallowed tradition and no government could ever overturn it. For most of them it is an all expenses paid pleasure trip with shopping for extended family thrown in.
For most athletes and their support staff official high handedness is a professional hazard. The latest story to tumble out this Olympics was of gymnast Dipa Karmarkar's physio being flown to Rio only after she made it to the finals. After every Olympics we get to hear such stories and this one is not going to be the last.
But it would be naive to assume that only bureaucrats and politicians had a good time. Some athletes too have perfected the art of fleecing the system. According to an Indian Express report as per the Target Olympic Podium Scheme (TOPS) some of them tried to claim huge amounts of money ostensibly for training, often in foreign shores, and some even managed to make the government pay for their family members accompanying them to Rio.
Ironically the country’s only two medallists were among those who received the least funding from the government, trained in India and under an Indian coach. Bronze medallist Sakshi Malik took just Rs 12 lakh under TOPS while silver medal-winning shuttler P V Sindhu was allocated Rs 44 lakh. Dipa Karmakar, who lost a medal by whisker, only claimed Rs 2 lakh from the government.
When someone does well in Olympics the state governments too wake up from their reveries and try to play cheer leaders. They loosen purse strings to indulge in competitive populism. After all it is only public money and those making these announcements are not paying from their pockets.
Also Read: Bangalore Beat
