Are the ugly ducklings absconding?

There was a time when little feet played undaunted and little hands muddied themselves unabashed…When the size of the scratch on your arm or the gash on your knee were worn like medals of bravery. Trees were climbed on and more often than not fallen off, as little boys and girls imaginations were far from little!
Where have these children gone? One glance around me and I can see mini-mummies and mini-daddies, mini-hoity toity, prettied up kids…Today little girls and guys of five and six years are clad in the most avant garde fashions, tiny pink sequenced summer dress with matching high heel sandals, pink painted nails and matching lipstick, a string of beads to adorn the neck and butterfly clips to curb their tresses! I can’t see a child anymore!! They’ve become living replicas of their parents!

Stepping into any college campus today is like walking into a ramp show. a shimmery pink-star bra makes a guest appearance, with a naught tear-drop navel piercing titillating the innocent and wide eyed…Has the gawky adolescent ugly ducking stage disappeared? Where have they migrated? And when?

Children and young adults today seem to be leap frogging! With the catwalk being brought out to the street walk we have a generation that knows the fashion lingo at the tip of their fingers, this generation is more conscious and aware of their physical appearance. Affluence, the spending power that allows for these indulges and works to fuel these wants and desires. Aping the western lifestyles and the focus on materialism also has its role to play in this shift to a body conscious generation…

With raunch culture on the rise, playboy bunnies budding, bimbo girls becoming the norm…music videos, movies, TV programs all conspiring and working towards a change in focus it is no wonder the youth today have forgotten what its like to be young and free!

Riding the rickshaw high!!

Beads of sweat hit the brow, crystal clear streams with a dash of salt make unceremonious journeys to the unknown. Shrill squeaky sounds emanate from the bowels of a rickshaw, which my unfortunate hand seems to have waved down.

Spruced up in the snazziest of colors, with seat covers far from merciful in this relentless heat, I decide to bode my not so holy medium of salvation from the penetrating harsh rays. Inside things seem to take on a life of their own, as garish trinkets giggle to the musical beats and our Bollywood sirens pout and purr in their newfound heaven(or so it seems).Just as my saner, more no nonsense side calls to me to backtrack onto the blistering heat ,a thirty-two teeth grin flashes itself unabashed and eyes twinkle with anticipation as a paan stained mouth, divulges its crimson secrets, spewing a few in the process.


A young barely legal driver asks me where I’m heading over the music a blaring.As I’m barely done screeching over the eardrum splitting crooning ,a restless foot presses down on the accelerator and in a smooth flamboyant synchronized lunging outward, spitting unruly crimson secrets and flinging back of his head my usually twenty minute journey home begins. At lighting speed his rickshaw and all its dwellers rattle, jiggle and swerve to the blaring of angry horns.

With my ears splitting and my head falling obediently in suit I unwittingly plunge into an experience leaving me dumbstruck and gaping.With almost commando like battle tactic training and agility, only reminiscent of an experienced rickshaw driver, my adept rickshaw ride, far from a non self-effacing experience dashed to its destination and my home in record time. Leaving a frizzy haired, white knuckled, parched throat, wide-eyed passenger, for whom never seemed sweeter!