The Four Candles

A Tender Moment- When Chuppy met Mom

A hospital discharge is always testing. In Mom’s case, recovery still remained largely uncertain. It was as though one battle had been won but the war was still imminent. There was still a lot of fighting to be done. There was still a lot more to overcome and a lot more to endure. The big difference was that the turf had changed. She was now home. How that will change the equation remains to be seen but what is known is that she will have her favourite team of warriors by her side. This team is quite similar to the one that has been with her all along in the hospital i.e My brother and I coupled with the love and support of all our family, friends and well-wishers but there was one little warrior who’s absence was always notable.

As we settled mom into her room, which now looked more like a hospital room than her bedroom, we ran through the list of all the equipment/medicines as well as disposables. Everything seemed to be in place so it was time now. I took the stairs down to my friend’s place and rang the bell. The sniffs and snorts began to get louder as the maid came closer towards the door. By the time she had reached the door, the snorts had turned into an all-familiar squeal. But this time, it almost seemed like she knew that there was something different. As the door opened, there she was prancing around, expressing her excitement in a way that only she could. ‘Yay, you’ve come to take me home. Woo hooo’ would be my guess as to what she was implying.  This time, however, Chuppy’s greeting was different. It was accompanied by an unusual sense of urgency to go home. Could she sense that mom was home? After nearly four months? If her non-stop plea to get home as fast as we could was any indication, the answer would be a resounding YES. She knew. Somehow, she knew that she was going to see Mom when she went home.

Despite all the love and affection that we have for her, letting her go to Mom was a catch-22 situation. ‘Keep her away from possible sources of infection’ was the clear instruction given unanimously by all the Doctors. And quite obviously, that was the way to go. But, what about Chuppy? Should we prevent her from being with mom? Is it even fair? After all, Chuppy’s connection with Mom is beyond explanation. Predicaments such as these tend to evoke strong opinions that sometimes lead to difficult decisions. But none of that would be so in this case. As I let her loose when we entered the house, she went straight into mom’s room and stopped in her tracks. Mom’s severe health condition meant that she cannot react or respond to most things around her and Chuppy entering the room was no exception. Disappointingly, there were no Bollywood moments where someone magically gets better upon seeing a dearly loved one. That was reserved strictly for the Yash Raj Films I guess.

What I did, however, witness, was something else altogether. This is normally the kind of stuff you see on Facebook ,courtesy videos that are shared by various people titled ‘What this dog did next will blow your mind’.

Very slowly, Chuppy made her way to mom’s bed. Uncertain about what to do next she turned around to look at me. I didn’t say a word. She continued to go around Mom’s bed slowly inspecting as it were some type of cage that was preventing her from reaching out to Mom. She then put her two feet on the bed and sniffed around a little and again looked at me. I remained silent. As did the Nurse and the housemaid. This was Chuppy’s moment with Mom and none of us were going to interfere. She slowly moved away from the bed and sat down beside it. Quiet, sober and yet it was a statement made by her- “I am here by your side, I won’t let you go this time” Mom could not react but I know deep down inside she was delighted to have her little Direwolf right beside her. That in itself is one more battle won thanks to her composure. It was a tender moment yet it showed just how strong the bonds of love are between two beings. And it was cherished by all who were present J J J

Oh My God, It’s PK

My most recent and rather annoying experience with imbeciles relates to a delightfully sensible and sensitive (yep, that’s the order in which the two ‘sens’ follow) called PK. PK is about an alien that visits our planet, and more specifically our country. His mission is to study the people of this planet and report back to his own. The key to his return is a homing/tracking device that is stolen from him. Without this device, his mother ship cannot pick him up. Thus begins his journey towards finding this lost device which leads him to unravel the misgivings of self-styled God men proclaiming to be direct ‘connections’ with God. I won’t delve much more into the story, as that is not the purpose of this article. What I do intend to do, is to vent my anger and frustration on the anti-social elements that feels that this simple film is an insult to their religion.

What PK does is simple:

It exposes self-styled fraudulent God men who influence the gullible masses with religious hokum. What I find hard to believe is that a fairly large number of these followers are well educated people. Now, one can and will argue that education has nothing to do with the fact that one believes in a power higher than one’s self. That is a valid argument as even some of the greatest minds of our times like Thomas Edison and Albert Einstein believed in the Divine as well as in the concept of Miracles. BUT, BUT, BUT. None of these great minds ever believed that a single individual could be their ticket to ridding themselves of their problems once and for all. None of these people were influenced into ‘donating generously’ to attain Nirvana.

PK has many simple messages but the most powerful message is that of helping one another live through life’s challenges rather than putting all your Faith and Money into a never-ending abyss of lies and deceit. God wanted us to look after each other and that’s why he made us. It reminds me of another movie that deeply influenced my own beliefs about God and our ways of worship. That film was called ‘OMG! Oh My God!’ There is a beautiful song in the film which is sung soulfully by Kailesh Kher called ‘Mere Nishaan’. The song is God’s lament about how human beings have made it a business. Some of the lines in the song (translated below) are very similar to the message PK has for us:

I no longer live in the hearts of my people,

instead I am sold everywhere in the markets…

…I made this world with my own hands

not out of soil but out of emotions

yet, here I am looking for myself

OMG took a hard-hitting stand towards some of the ludicrous beliefs that religions inculcate. Like instead of wasting a liter of milk on an stone idol, why not give it to a poor person who hasn’t eaten for days? PK makes a far more subtle statement about trying to build your own connection to the divine by helping one another. About finding your own path and not giving in to the devious and divisive ideologies that are communicated through god-men. Oh My God openly mocks at Priests by rating their IQ equivalent to the temperature of a room. The protagonist goes on to state God has become a business and that this business is rampant owing to a constant state of fear that is instilled into followers. Do this or you will go to Hell. Do that and a place for you in Heaven is guaranteed. PK does the same. There are of course, many more similarities between the two films but the biggest difference between the two is this. PK at heart is a sensitive film that is centered around loving, caring, and looking out for one another (just like PK and Jaggu and even Bhairon Singh do in the fim). OMG scarcely relies on any of the qualities or emotions that PK does. Instead, it takes the proverbial ‘bull by the horns’ approach in dealing with Religion as a form of Crony Capitalism.

But what exactly seems to be the problem with Religious extremist groups that want PK to be banned??? Well, it’s not difficult to decipher (even for a person with the IQ of my bedroom). PK is enacted by a Muslim- Aamir Khan. It’s funny how a large percentage of this country nodded in agreement as Aamir, through his Television programme, ‘Satyamev Jayate’ tackled one taboo topic after another. Most of these were some form of social evil, Malpractice, Corruption or any other pressing Social need of the country. The armchair activists of this country, from their higher moral ground, applauded most of his efforts to bring these issues to the forefront. So what was he then, An Indian or a Muslim? If he was an Indian trying to do his bit to improve the world that we live in the TV programme, then how come they have a problem against the same Indian trying to dispel the shroud of darkness that has a sinister effect on the overall well-being of the nation, through his film?

The problem does not lie in the Religious prejudices. The problem lies in the fact that these Religious Extremists wait for an opportunity to strike a soft target and therefore attract publicity. They like to see the effect that the film has on the masses and then decide whether it is in their best vested interests to ban the film or not.

The problem lies with the fact that these groups will always prefer it if the larger population remains uneducated and continue to be governed by completely irrational claims of individuals being God’s favoured messengers. If the masses wake up to this fact that God has indeed given us the opportunity to empower ourselves and carve our paths, these organizations wouldn’t survive leave alone thrive. 

The problem lies with the fact that these extremists (and I include ALL religious extremist outfits) really have absolutely nothing to do with Religion. It is a business that thrives on a constant state of fear. Their highly treasured investments (God Men) won’t get them the votes they so badly need to keep them in Power.

Last but not the least, nobody will hear what they have to say because people will keep themselves busy by helping each other out irrespective of their caste, creed or religion. And then maybe we won’t find God, but we will for sure have more people say to us ‘Thank God, for sending you J ‘ See you all in the New Year. And if you haven’t seen PK yet, then do yourselves a big favour by watching the film. And do watch OMG! Oh My God as well. 

Superwoman

Seven days ago, my mother was rushed into the Intensive Care Unit following a violent attack of seizures which led her into a semi-comatose state. This wasn’t the first time she was admitted into a hospital, but this indeed was the first time I was closest to losing her. Forever!!! As the Doctors here at the Apollo Specialty Hospital, Jayanagar 3^rd Block, worked tirelessly to revive her, there were many flashes that returned to my memory. As I write this article, she is still here however she is on the road to recovery.In this article, I’m going to share some of those moments that left an indelible mark in my life and in more ways than one changed it. 

It was the year 2002. My first two months in Southampton were traumatic. I was struggling to understand the intricacies of the MBA programme since it had been five years since I had passed out of college. Trying to make sense of ‘their’ style of administering courses means unlearning what you have already learnt in ‘our’ style. And trust me, it wasn’t easy. Research-based methods had to take precedence over rote-based methods. Questioning was more important than agreeing. And unlike what we are taught here in India, there is no right or wrong answer; just perspectives. Justify it with relevant academic and real-life theories and instances and you get your grade.

Then there was the guilt, bitterness and sorrow of a break-up. Not that I want to give that too much of importance here but it was my first break-up (at the age of 24). What added to my woes was the accommodation. It wasn’t bad, not at all but I simply was not prepared for living in a room that was the size of a matchbox. How was I going to spend an entire year in an 8X6 Room??? Add to that, some terribly noisy neighbours and ,therefore, sleepless nights, and you have a perfect recipe for depression. Oh and I forgot (how could I)!!!!! I had to wake up at 5 in the morning every day, to carry a 20-kg mail bag around a distant neighbourhood to deliver mail. I had to complete the entire delivery within the hour (else, I would miss my pick-up) and then report back to the Post office.

From a Course viewpoint, my first assignment at class was nothing short of disaster. I had failed. And badly. The tutors found my language to be a notch or two better than the rest of the class but I wasn’t here to demonstrate my grip on English. I needed to change the way thought about assignments;  and the first one was a grim warning of what lay ahead.  Ever since I landed in the United Kingdom in September 2002, I was in for one rude shock after another (thankfully, racism wasn’t one of them).  It was around the first week of November (closer to my Birthday) that everything changed. And there was just one person responsible for it. No prizes for guessing who it was. 

I was in the library looking for some research material for my next assignment when I received a call from one of my newly formed friends, “ JD! there’s a packet that’s come for you from India. It reads from Sheila Gandhi and it’s quite big. You might wanna come and take a look” I was elated. A packet from home meant goodies. And if this friend of mine said it was quite big then it meant loads of goodies. Some respite, I smiled to myself. And knowing my mom, she would have packed it immaculately. She has always been brilliant at gift wrapping; so much so that you wouldn’t feel like opening the gift. I had no idea whatsoever about what lay ahead. As I opened the door to the lobby of my apartment there stood two of my friends beaming smiles and next to them she stood. I screamed “ MOM” and gave her the tightest hug I’ve ever given anybody ever in my life. I didn’t say a word for as long as I can remember; Neither did she. Tears flowed freely. That moment moved even my friends and I was tempted to give them a hug as well but NO. This moment was fiercely MINE and MINE alone.

She had taken on travel assignment from her employer (the British Deputy High Commission) despite having had a Kidney Transplant Operation a few months ago. Her Doctors has advised against long distance travel for at least a year since she was prone to infection which could easily be transmitted in Public areas such as Airports. A new country also meant she could be susceptible to virus there. She had put herself in a precarious situation by agreeing to travel for 3-weeks across the length and breadth of UK to promote trade. All this, JUST to be with me.  That meant we had Three weekends together. Three memorable weekends together which changed everything.  

During the course of her stay, my friends and I were treated to her trademark masterchef recipes. We walked all over Southampton, celebrated my birthday by going out to one of the most posh restaurants in Southampton, visited the grave of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and had many more such fantastic experiences. I realized just how much had gone into sending me here. The sacrifices she made. The pain she had undergone. The sheer loneliness she had to deal with. And the huge health risk she took by coming to see me. The health worries weren’t all. In that same year, my brother got married. For the uninitiated, Indian wedding are more drama, pomp and superficiality than substance. But Mom being Mom, kept all of that to a bare minimum and single-handedly took care of our family’s share of the expenses. If that wasn’t stressful enough, imagine this: Soon after marriage, my brother moved jobs, and as a result, moved to another city which meant that for the first time in her life, she returned to an empty house. The very thought is disturbing. But she did it.

As a parting note, let’s jot down all the events that occurred in the year 2002.

a)       A Kidney Transplant in February

b)       My brothers marriage in August along with a fracture to her right hand during the wedding

c)       My departure to the UK in September

She dealt with all of that and of course, the trials and tribulations of daily life. And came out on top. But then I always believed that she was Superwoman. Mere mortals are not that capable. Ask me, I’m one J . A mere mortal J .

My point of view: A letter to Times of India

To the Times of India,

Dear TOI,

Firstly, I want to congratulate you for the wonderful series in your online edition called OMG. I myself have clicked on these links several times and almost unfailingly. It doesn’t matter what follows OMG or how true it may be because you guys claim to be playing by the rules of the game.Right?  You say online media is crude, crassy and has different rules in comparison to traditional media and that one size does not fit all. Really? And who may I know is responsible for setting these rules of sensationalism. As you are supposedly one of the country’s biggest media houses I’m quite tempted to point all my five fingers at you. In the past, you guys has unashamedly displayed Yana Gupta’s private parts, shamelessly linked Arjun Kapoor to Malaika Arora, put down slide shows of actresses in sex scandals and what not under the title OMG. But enough is enough. Maybe you guys don’t understand (which is not surprising).

Are you guys so click hungry that you make news that is dick hungry? What kind of perverse pleasure do you guys get in sensationalizing stuff like OMG Deepika’s showing her cleavage. So what? Like you mentioned in your futile and rather inane attempt to justify yourselves, Deepika has posed provocatively for many magazines, movies etc etc, but just what gives you the right to make it an OMG moment? Do you understand where I’m coming from. Ok I guess you don’t so let me simplify it like teachers explain to school children.

So here’s me taking central stage with a stick in my hand for class full of children (read TOI journos). I even have a stick in my hand for the mischievous back-benchers. So shall we begin class?

Children, today we will learn about the term OMG and its various usages. OMG is the short form (I would’ve said abbreviation but then these children don’t understand sophisticated words) for Oh My God! It is a term that is used to describe something that really surprises you. It is used to describe something that is unusual and warrants a special mention. It is often used to sensationalize trivial matters to attract viewers and many times uses a red circle to drive home its point. So remember to use OMG whenever you see something surprising like:

a)      OMG teenagers are growing facial hair

b)      OMG the teacher has come to class

c)      OMG my friend had a bath

d)      OMG I wore clothes today

You get the drift right?  Now can some of you tell me some OMG moments in your lives?

One student stands up. ‘yes’ says the teacher. ‘OMG I had breakfast today’ says the student. ‘Well done, child you nailed it’ . So much for OMG moments. Now coming back to Deepika’s cleavage. Why don’t you guys put OMG moments for stuff like ‘OMG, Amitabh Bachchan knows English’ or ‘OMG, Shah Rukh Khan likes to take a plane when he has to travel abroad’.

The crux of the problem is not you guys sensationalizing Deepikas cleavage. The crux is you using it get those extra clicks by calling it an OMG moment when it appears to be a perfectly normal photograph of a woman in a dress. And not to mention that you guys drew a red circle around it just to make it obvious. Are you guys catering to a sperm bank? If you are then it’s a pretty pathetic effort to objectify a woman. If you are doing it, then do a good job of it, will you? We don’t need your stupid sensationalism coz if we want to see a nude woman or a provocative pose there are magazines and media available for that. Are you competing with them for clicks? Maybe you are. And spare us your point of view coz I doubt if anyone is buying it. Why do you have to make a sensation out of Shweta Prasad Basu’s sex racket and then right next to it, run a slide show of other actresses who were involved in sex rackets. Or why should you put up a pic of Yana Gupta showing her private parts and then run another slide show next to it with other actresses that have done something similar???? It’s just down right PATHETIC. Do you guys even care about what you are reporting? I mean this is irresponsible reporting to its core but then I keep forgetting that you guys compete with SUN magazine in terms of crass content.

Not that this one article of mine will make any sense to you and not that it will make any difference but understand this. You guys think you make stars, then get this thru into your heads that WE make YOU. If we choose to boycott you, then you can publish it on your front page. Now that will be a real OMG moment. ‘OMG readers boycott Times Of India’

She came, she saw, He Conquered. Yet again :)

The gates opened. As he drove past the Lobby, he saw a beautifully decorated idol of Lord Ganesh. Today is the day when the entire country celebrates Ganesh Chaturthi. It is said to be his birthday. They say he is the one who listens to prayers. Across India, in most temples if not all, before devotees pay their obeisance to their revered God, the idol of Lord Ganesh sits omnipotent at the entrance. Such is his power and reverence.  

The various residents of the apartment complex had gathered down at the podium for the customary ‘Arti’ which would take place every day for the next 10 days. As he parked his car in the basement and climbed up the stairs to the podium, he decided to join the gathering for a few minutes. A thought in his head resonated ‘Come on man, you really don’t attend these Poojas and all, do you? You stopped believing in this particular God or that particular God sometime back, didn’t you? I mean what good is it to go to one particular God for doing well in your examinations and another for doing well in your professionally. What’s the point praying to one God to give you a good Wife and another to keep you in good health. ‘ . He dismissed the thoughts. Everyone had gathered around the idol of Lord Ganesha. There were sweets, some dried fruits and the usual Pooja thali.  And as usual, there was a lot of chattering (gosh, how much we Indians love chattering J ). There were at least 4-5 announcements of ‘ok, we are starting the Arti’. All of them were false starts.

He suddenly realized that there was a meeting due between someone and the Lord Himself. It hadn’t happened in almost 4 years and maybe it was about time. He excused himself from the gathering and took the elevator to his apartment. He strode in and told his mother, who was lying in bed, ‘Come on, you’re wanted downstairs.’ She frowned ‘For what? ‘ ‘Public demand, they want you to be a part of the Arti, so chalo, let’s go’. She refused at first ‘I’m not coming! Not in the mood to attend an Arti’ She seemed adamant but he insisted, rather rudely, ‘Listen, don’t act difficult, there are at least 3-4 people downstairs who have asked about you, so you better come, it’ll be worth your while.’ Sometimes, being assertive to the point of being rude is the only way out. She didn’t say anything. Getting up and walking to the wheelchair was getting easier for her now as her health had improved in the past few weeks. it was still a challenging task, though. She wrapped her shawl around herself using the one functional hand that she had and slowly moved towards the wheelchair using her walker.

It had been so long since she had attended an Arti. She felt numb. After all, throughout her life, the Lord was always with her and she knew that He was always watching over her and her loved ones. Be it in her handbag, on her desk, in her room, in the Car, He was always there. And yet, as she suffered one mishap after another all He did was watch. She was bitter, hurt, weak, broken and battered by all the misfortune she had suffered in the form of bad health. First the fractures, then the Brain stroke which rendered her right side almost useless, then the knee gave way, and earlier in the year, she had contacted some nasty infections which took months to heal. Why me? She would often ask looking up with a sense of abandonment. Anger would swell up within her and over time a sense of sadness and disappointment enveloped her. It almost seemed like a vicious permanent embrace. What would she do when she saw The Lord now? What would she say to Him? Would she break down? Would she maintain a stony silence? What would she do?

As her son wheeled her out of the elevator and onto the podium, she was warmly greeted by everyone. The Arti has started and everyone was clapping to the hymns that were being sung in the name of Lord Ganesh. She sat on the wheelchair, her eyes closed, having her private conversation with Him, no doubt. The plate was then passed on to her and after an initial bit of hesitation, she held the plate in front of Him and started circling it around the idol. A solitary tear rolled down as she completed three cycles clockwise and anti-clockwise. She handed back the plate to the next person in the gathering and softly cried out ‘Thank you’. Her conversation with Him had ended. Or had it been re-initiated? As she began interacting with the others, it appeared as though all the remorse, bitterness and sadness seemed to have been dissolved. The smile was back on her face. She was busily discussing weekend plans with the others and had some ‘prasad’ as well. 

When it was time to go, she promised the gathering that she would come on all days. All 10 days! As he wheeled her back up, her son asked her ‘So, glad you came?’ She immediately beamed ‘Absolutely!!! Very glad to see Him again. After all this while’. He smiled to himself. He didn’t ask her about what she prayed or whether she had a conversation with the Lord. He knew that was a strictly private matter and was off limits even for him. Didn’t matter though. What mattered was that she came. What mattered was that she saw. And what mattered was that He conquered. He conquered her fears, her sadness and her sense of inevitability. Yet again J

Give a break to the King of Crass-Yo-yo Honey Singh

 The other day, I happened to read an article by one of those annoying parents who kept ranting on and on about how Yo-Yo Honey Singh had degraded our culture with his crass.  The tone of the letter is dripping with sarcasm. He was lamenting about how his 5-year old kid was being ‘exposed’ to the side effects of Vodka.  He goes on to thank Mr Singh for his contribution to music by providing us with soulful lyrics and lilting melodies. Ill leave it for you to read the entire letter here :

http://www.hindustantimes.com/entertainment/music/thanks-for-the-crassness-an-open-letter-to-honey-singh-from-a-parent/article1-1242802.aspx

Now don’t I just love taking the case of such people. SO that’s exactly what Im going to do. Mr Parent, let me take you back 10-12 years. Please read the lyrics of a song called PIMP by a singer named 50 Cents. This song became an all time hit and in many ways paved the way for more such stuff:

I don't know what you heard about me
But a bitch can't get a dollar out of me
No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see
That I'm a motherfuckin' P I M P

I don't know what you heard about me
But a bitch can't get a dollar out of me
No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see
That I'm a motherfuckin' P I M P

Now shorty, she in the club, she dancin' for dollars
She got a thing for that Gucci, that Fendi, that Prada
That BCBG, Burberry, Dolce and Gabana
She feed them foolish fantasies, they pay her 'cause they wanna

I spit a little G man, and my game got her
A hour later, have that ass up in the Ramada
Them trick niggas in her ear sayin' they think about her
I got the bitch by the bar, tryin' to get a drink up out her

Got that?OKAYYY GREATTT.. Now lets go 20 years ago . The lyrics below are from Emimem, no doubt a cult singer with exceptionally meaningful lyrics (and I mean it when I say that) but look at the incredibly floral vocabulary:

Hi, my name is, my name is
(What? Who?)
My name is Slim Shady…
Hi, my name is, my name is
(Huh? What?)
My name is Slim Shady

Ahem, excuse me
Can I have the attention of the class
For one second?

Hi kids, do you like violence?
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Wanna see me stick Nine Inch Nails
Through each one of my eyelids?
(Uh, huh)

Wanna copy me and do exactly like I did?
(Yeah, yeah)
Try 'cid and get fucked up worse that my life is?
(Huh?)

My brain's dead weight, I'm tryin' to get my head straight
But I can't figure out which Spice Girl I want to impregnate
(Umm)
And Dr. Dre said, "Slim Shady you a basehead"
Uh, uhh, So why's your face red? Man you wasted…..

And so on and so forth. Do you remember any of this stuff, I’ll bet you do. Aah now you’ll tell me those were different? Really, were they? ‘Hi kids do you like violence, wane see me stick nine inch nails through my eye-lids’ is heaven right??? Or better still  'I spit a little G man, and my game got her. A hour later, have that ass up in the Ramada’ THESE ARE GOSPEL, RIGHT?  We grew up to these in case you didn’t notice.

And you really believe that Bollywood and the Indian Music scenario were patron saints before the arrival of Mr Yo-yo??? Let’s take a look,shall we? You thank Mr Singh for making Sarkailo Khatiya and Choli ke peeche sound like a bhajan!!! Excuse meeeeee!!! Those songs were bhajans even at that time. This is what I call selective amnesia. That was a period when Bollywood was churning our more double meaning songs than India was churning out newborns. Not to mention suggestive dance steps.

·         Have you seen Govinda’s dance steps for aa- aah-eeh from Raja Babu???

·         Have you heard a song called Gutur Gutur from the movie Dalaal. Mind you, this one was on the top of Superhit Muqable for a long time??

      Have you seen and heard ANil Kapoor and Juhi Chawla gyrate to 'main maal gaadi tooh dhakka laga'???

·         And pray, have you heard ANY of Dada Kondke’s songs???

 These are just a drop in the ocean of slush and filth that Bollywood has inherited over the decades. Oh and wait, how can I forget the infamous Bhojpuri ‘humari bhaujayee tumhari lugaai’ kind of songs and movies that not just prevail but thrive as much today as they did several years ago.

The problem does not lie with Mr Yo-yo. The problem lies with people like you who want a scapegoat simply because you find it difficult to ‘control’ your children. You feel that your child might get influenced by Yo-yo’s songs but he won’t get influenced when Salman Khan holds Jacqueline Fernandez’s skirt by his teeth? Or when Kareena sways suggestively to ‘Halkat Jawaani’? or when three idiotic actors sing and dance to ‘second jawaani’ from Cocktail?????

Give me a break or better still give yourself one. Objectification of women has been an evil in society for a long time but I’ll leave that debate for another day.  But if you’re going to blame poor Yo-yo Honey Singh for the contaminating today’s music world, then I’m asking you, what is left to contaminate? So no matter how eloquently you express your apparent lack of faith in yo-yo’s songs, and no matter how intense your sarcasm, the fact of the matter is that you cannot kill what's already dead. And one last thing, don’t fret about your elder son not appreciating a Madan Mohan classic. It’s not his fault, it’s yours. Why? Because he had his guard up the moment you tried to wean him away from Yo-yo’s songs so even if he did like it he would never have admitted it. Think you’re smart? Sorry, kids are smarter.