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Shouldn't we draw a line now???

Madhur Bhandarkar’s latest directorial, ‘Fashion’, primarily focuses on revealing the dark side of the fashion industry about which many youngsters aspiring to be a part of are unaware. The attempt was really appreciable as it is an eye-opener to the ignorant lot who believe that the industry is only glitz and glamour. Besides the many harsh realities showcased in the movie about this industry, it has been instrumental in displaying the adulteration of ethics in other professions. I was totally repulsed watching one particular scene in the film where the media (television and print) crosses its ethical limits to tarnish the reputation of a young model who happened to be involved in an unfortunate accident while walking the ramp in a show. Character assassination is a very common term when it concerns today’s media. Be it Aarushi Talwar or this ill-fated model. Besides this, some so-called “news” channels have simply lost track of what they ought to cover. A couple of months back it was...
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Of Innocence and Children

When I used to sing Akhiyon ke jharokon se (not as a dedication to a 2 year old :) )to Ananya, my youngest cousin ; simply cause I loved the song and she probably loved the tune or (if I may hope) to listen to me sing, she would just rest her little head on my chest and look up at me... watch me sing. I would feel an utmost sense of contentment in life at that moment, seeing her innocent, loving eyes looking at me and loving me with no prejudices. Loving me, the way only a child can do and no one else can... not even me. I wish we all had that much of a clarity in thoughts, in actions and in love as much as a child has. I wish we all were not stripped off that innocence we had as children. I wish to be a child again... This is a dedication to the most beautiful child I've ever known... To the one who has already won so many hearts around her and is here to conquer many more... To Ananya...
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The Postscript

I was on a call, walking across the dining room of their home, completely engrossed in the conversation with my mother. Their double pedestal 18th century French style 10-seater table lay cluttered with papers, documents, bills,etc. under the glimmering crystal chandelier. As I was walking and my finger carelessly running through rim of the table, my eyes caught the attention of two baronial envelopes with the recipients addressed on them. One read " To Daddy, From Son " , the other " To Son ". But what caught my attention was not this, but the postscript just a few inches below the latter note. It read, " P.S: Sorry for my poor handwriting ". Knowing the father in this context, and having read such a postscript, my mind wandered into deep thoughts about this man. It raced back to the memories of the last weekend of June when the blissful days with Her Holiness also brought with it new relationships that will be cherished for a lifetime. Here is a man of ...
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