A little Kiss

A review of the First episode of Mad Men's Fifth Season

Those who need to review Mad Men to make a living are very lucky people. The Mad Men series is a delight to watch and the desire to analyse every little nuance is inextricably embedded in the delight. And there is so much to analyse. The show has so many layers that there is an entire book “Mad Men and Philosophy: Nothing is as it seems” devoted to it. (Let’s ignore, for the moment, the fact that even Twilight has a similar book devoted to it.)

The show begins with blacks protesting outside Madison Avenue. It is enlightening to be exposed to the overarching theme of 60s. Neither am I an American nor have I lived through that era. Therefore, I have diluted exposure to the decade and its legacy through Shows such as that 70s show and books such as To kill a mocking bird. My exposure to the legends of the era is limited to listening my parents discuss that Pooja Bedi was copying Marilyn Monroe with flying skirt scene in Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikander. It is illuminating to understand the origin of several ideas and references that still have a cultural resonance.

Having given us an idea as to what is going outside the world of our favorite advertisers we are quickly exposed to the new Draper household, Don has a new stylish apartment to go with his new wife. The kids seem to be taking well to their new stepmother but that is no surprise. I think one of the things that cemented Don’s whim to marry Megan was how good she was with kids. Even Don’s ex Dr. Faye Miller had felt like she had failed a test after not being able to befriend Sal. Oh, and it’s heartbreaking to see Sal show so much interest in the semi nude body of her stepmother. You can see that she is beginning to grasp at adolescence. You want to reach out and tell her to be a kid for some more time. We have our entire lives to play grownup anyway.

At the same time the questions of the last season quickly come to the surface. Don married Megan too quickly. We were left to wonder what would happen when the blood flows back to Don’s head. Already, there is tension between Peggy and Megan because Megan works under Peggy but Megan is married to The Boss. The marriage also seems to be hurting the dynamics between Peggy and Don. Another aspect of the marriage that comes to the fore is that Megan doesn’t know Don either. It is an aspect that is easily overlooked since the viewer is too heavily invested in Don’s perspective. When Megan discusses throwing a surprise birthday party for Don, the viewer and Peggy immediately sense that it is a mistake. Megan, however, doesn’t see that because she doesn’t know Don like we do. Indeed, our introverted protagonist is irked by the party and is completely drained by the time party ends. I believe the dynamic relationship between Don and Megan will play a crucial role in the fifth season.

As an aside, it is a pleasure to watch an introvert being idolized by millions. Don’s introverted nature is part of his charm and attraction. He looks comfortable alone and he dislikes drawing attention to himself. It adds to his aura of mysteriousness.

Moving on to the others who share the smoke (which seems to be decreasing) filled screen with Don Draper. Bert Cooper is back and no one seems to care. You feel bad for the poor fellow as the other partners completely ignore him. Is it because he deserted at the 11^th hour or is it because he is becoming old? Regardless, things are slowly getting back to normal at SCDP. Though there are changes. Roger Sterling is threated by the upstart that is Pete Campbell. Pete like his usual self throws a tantrum at partners meeting and is able to get back at Roger in the end. Jane now has a baby and that is the only clue as to the fact that 8-10 months have passed since the last episode.

For now, things have become smooth at Sterling Cooper Daper Price. But will Don’s new marriage affect the entire office (especially Peggy) or will everything carry on as usual like it has, despite all that happened, or maybe it’s like the way Don puts it to his wife “You think you're a splinter? You're not. The whole foot's been infected for years.”

                                            

I was to go to US in three months. I wanted to learn some form of dance, so as to be able to socialize better when I arrived in US. I looked around, by which I mean googled. I found only one academy that existed in Kathmandu that could teach me. Their website said it was the only Salsa Dance Academy in Kathmandu. I found little information online or offline to dispute their claim. Even the best Gyms offered only Zumba classes.

I was apprehensive and slightly nervous going into the academy. However, some of my nervousness was offset my nostalgia – the street leading to academy was opposite my old school. I arrived academy in good spirits. I enquired about the classes and payment. The owner Shrestha was willing to give me the student discount, given I showed him my admission letter. He was a man of few words to say the least. All my attempts to start a conversation were met by monosyllabic answers. I wanted to take a trial class before committing, as I was not sure the academy would deliver on my expectations. The owner did not entertain any of my wishes and I was in half a mind to leave when he agreed to let me join the class on the condition that I show him my admission letter letter and the owner’s wife stepped in.

She was much more conversational than her husband. She kept up the conversation and told me that they had already started classes last even though there was a strike. However, she told me not to worry, as they don’t teach anything in the first class. I had to wait and hour and half as the beginner classes had been postponed.

I got to see the most curious bunch of people while waiting for my class. All the students in advanced class were dressed like people out of fashion magazine. Also, they had a very different demeanor than the people I come across day to day. They looked secure, they were rich enough to indulge their idiosyncrasies – in short they looked pampered. Now do not mistake my saying they were pampered as me criticizing them. I loved it. The atmosphere the people there formed helped me forget that we were in the least developed country in South Asia. I always prefer people who are confidently idiosyncratic people to people who list out all the advantages they did not get.

An hour later my classes began. We were a bunch of good-looking English speaking individuals. The instructor herself seemed a bit unsure of herself though. She did a good job of teaching us basic moves even though she herself got confused at times. She has some very good advice on the mistakes that a learner makes when learning those moves for the first time. She also had great advice for paired dance. All the pairs were feeling awkward and looking at their feet throughout the dance. Instructor advised us to look up and if it felt to look at each then look at road, ceiling anything but the feet. I was able to learn the moves very quickly as I am good at following patterns. (A thing that would prove to be a disadvantage next week as I would criticize my partner too much for not being able to keep up).

I went back home that day very happy. Doing dance changes you within in ways tough to explain. It gives you confidence. It is like learning boxing or learning to ride a bike. Also, you have to be present in the moment even if you are trying to remember the next step. I know I will be going back there again and again.

As I head to my hometown this year for Dashmi, I feel little more than apathy. When I was a child I used to be jubilant heading to my hometown for Dashmi. When I grew older and miserable I started going to hometown with reasons. Reasons as to why I would be able to enjoy the upcoming festival even though I hadn’t enjoyed the last. Now I bring with me the excitement of man going to brush his teeth.

I am not ready yet

I am not ready yet,
Let me be sad some more.
Close the curtains, draw the blinds.
No light will just yet enter my mind.

No, don’t come to my home,
Don’t bring no wine.
I can’t be happy today,
I have to bleed some more.

This sadness is all that’s left,
I can’t let it go just yet.
I won’t let go of this pain,
I want to be miserable some more.

No, I won’t sit up.
No, I won’t smile.
This pain is so addictive,
I can’t get myself to care.

Racism

The word by itself can stir up quite a cocktail of emotions. It could make you feel uncomfortable, it could make you hiss with anger, it could make you adopt a holier-than-thou attitude, or (for a very small proportion) it could make you feel sympathetic. I am not going to condemn the racists or make them feel guilty because I am pretty sure that they did not get up one day and decide “Hey I know what I want to be I wanna be a racist.” No the racist does not choose to be a racist he picks it up. You know like sex, no one really tells you how it is done, you just pick it up. It is only later that you fully understand what it really means. I am just going to make a humble attempt at guessing why a racist is a racist. Xenophobia comes almost naturally to most people. Humans just have it inbuilt in them to frown upon anything different.

Why do we immediately laugh when we hear a different accent? What is so funny about someone wearing his or her traditional dress in a different zone? A small girl with whom I was on friendly terms once told me she did not like her School Bag because it was Bihari type. Now she was fond of me and had no clue who a Bihari was. I politely pointed out that I was a Bihari myself. She was pretty shocked and did not say anything further. She will have grown up by now and learnt to respond by saying “Of course I don’t mean you. You are not like them.”

Where do these thoughts come from? The girl of course must have picked it up from parents and neighbours but why did she keep it? My explanation would be that it’s because it made her feel better. It is nice to know that we are superior to others. So is that the source of it all, a desire to feel important and special. If that is so will it all go away if we feel we are important and confident of ourselves? It seems like a plausible solution. So I sign off wishing that we learn to love and respect ourselves so that we can love and respect others.

Freedom

Freedom is a word very close to my heart. I am a fiercely independent person so it difficult for me to think that it(freedom) may not be the very heart of existence for others. But my interaction with others has led me to believe that many people do not attach any importance to it. For me freedom is being able to say what I feel and being able to pursue my dreams. Yet these may not matter to others.
For example, in class teachers express opinion without any restriction whatsoever. Even if the thoughts are contradictory to our belief we keep our chops shut. I can understand that! What I cannot understand is that people have so gotten used to teachers having their way that they no longer consider this an injustice. It reminds me of novel 1984 by George Orwell. When I first read it I considered it a highly fantastic novel, not in terms of technology but in terms of the social structure and the protagonist accepting that 2+2 can be 5. But now it seems some people think reality is what teachers say.
Another astonishing sight is the lack of self-respect. We have got so used to being abused by parents, teachers and any other guy with power that misuse of power is accepted as the norm. Instead of listening to our heart, standing firm for what we know is right and standing up for ourselves we submit. We wail, we complain, some distort their very thoughts to accept the social structure but never stand against the wind.
Anthony Robbins is a motivational speaker who is very rich now and is living his dreams. When Tony was seventeen he became, through hard work, the student body president. He became influential and started organizing pep rallies and school clubs. This did not please Tony’s mother. His mother was used to having Tony at home and taking care of household chores. His mother would not let Tony spread his wings and fly. So on one Christmas Eve Tony left his mother’s home with nothing but the clothes he was wearing. Tony loved school so he tried very hard to hold a job and to get a high school degree. Soon he was homeless. He worked at night cleaning banks and attended school during the day. Soon Tony got a salesman job and started earning money though he had to leave high school. Soon he became very successful in his field from then on he never looked back. Today he is one of the most influential persons on the face of earth not to mention rich. Where would he have been today if he was the kind of guy who let others dictate his life?


Khudi ko kar buland itna ke har taqder se pehle
Khuda bande se ye pouhe bata teri raza kia hai

Sitaron se age jahan aur bhi hai aur bhi hai
Abhi ishq ke Imtehan aur bhi hai aur bhi hai
Sitaron se age jahan aur bhi hai aur bhi hai
Abhi ishq ke Imtehan aur bhi hai aur bhi hai

Khudi ko kar buland itna ke har taqder se pehle
Khuda bande se ye puche bata teri raza kia hai

Tu shaheen hai, Tu shaheen hai, Tu shaheen hai
Tu shaheen hai, Tu shaheen hai Parvaz hai kam tera kam tera
Tere samne Aasman aur bhi hai
Tu shaheen he Basera kar Paharon ki chatano per
Tu shaheen hai tu Shaheen hai tu shaheen hai

Khudi ko kar buland itna ke har taqder se pehle
Khuda bande se ye poche bata teri raza kia hai

Khudi ko kar buland itna ke har taqder se pehle
Khuda bande se ye poche bata teri raza kia hai
bata teri raza kia hai
bata teri raza kia hai