I am bored to death with the entire bitching saga; I think MTV producers need to sit back and think about the torture that they inflict upon the viewers!
The girls bitch, back stab and do whatever it takes to save them from the dumping zone. They get a notable bit of screen space and fame; actively participating in the nasty circle of spicy conversations and playing the most nauseating, shameful and cheap tricks to grab the attention.
Why do they suffer all the public humiliation and get mortified for prize money that may not last for a year or two?
I am in search of the answer…
Actually the sponsors and production houses making a lot of money selling the fake emotions and the melodrama that comes along with these shows. With TRP’s elevating to heights that they have never imagined, producers are ready to play with billions at the expense of the poor viewer’s emotions and feelings.
Is all fair in reality shows? Donno…
I have shifted to Cartoon Network. Those animated characters are much better!
Tulips; I always love to see them for their indecipherable beauty and charm. I love to collect the pictures of Tulips. In fact I came to know about them after reading one of the noted poems of Sylvia Plath; one among the well-known confessional poets.The poem was a part of my graduate studies. Although it had much to do with the poetesses’ personal life, touched with a shade of melancholia, I liked the way it’s interwoven with the concept of Tulips. I started searching more for the term and found them to be the true epitome of the beauty of nature. Shaded in purple and pink, they adorn the early spring time. But we get an entirely diverse perspective after reading the poem of Plath. A segment of her consciousness is kept open before the readers; a vivid contrast between the concept of Tulips in our heart and the concept of Plath, the way she has entwine d it with her depression, after a miscarriage (Click http://www.sylviaplathforum.com/tulips.html to read the poem)I started reading more works of Plath, but used to wonder at the peculiar themes that she handled, like ‘suicide, self-loathing, Nazis, shock treatment, dysfunctional relationships’ etc…Later I came to know about the mystery of her suicide & her mental illness ( bipolar disorder , says experts), when Tessy ma’m told about her life; while she was teaching the poems. Plath, her poems and her struggle with clinical depression always generates a feeling of deep pathos in my heart. The genre of confessional poetry had many great writers later on, but no one rose to the iconic status that Plath still enjoys, years after her death.
PS – Yesterday, as I was reading the newspaper, I was shocked to see the news that Plath’s son Nicholas Hughes, a noted marine biologist, hung himself at his home in Alaska. If the shocking deaths of Plath and Assia Wevill flashes doubts about the tendency of poets toward suicide, Nicholas Hughes’ death emphasize the ongoing debate over the connection of genetics and suicide tendency. Nick was a baby when his mother died of depression.
The death of Nick, latest among the recurring nightmares, has added an extra tragic chapter to a family history that has been haunted by melancholy and depression, for two generations.
Both Nick and Frieda(his sister) had to live in the shadows of the tragic aftermath of their mother’s death, facing a lot of rumors throughout their life. But I wish that Nick’s death will not be doomed in to the whirlpool of mere gossip and sensationalism leaving Frieda, the surviving member of the family, in intense agony.
I always try to be social with my colleagues, irrespective of gender differences. You may be wondering about the reason why I mentioned gender specifically. Please scroll down…
I was a teacher, and worked in one of the prestigious higher secondary schools in my town. As the school had about five thousand odd students, the number of staff was also correspondingly very high, compared to the nearby schools. Although I extended a friendship with every one, right from the beginning, one among them seemed to be a little unresponsive first. I thought that the unresponsiveness was the reflection of his pride, as he was ranked as one of the most handsome gentlemen of our school, by a few of my female colleagues. I didn’t respond to his indifference but instead tried to maintain a friendly relation as usual.
After a few days I learned the reason behind his indifference.
Being a boy’s only schools, a greater part of the staff were males. Women, few in numbers, never missed their chance of gossiping and cooking up scandals against fine-looking young men among the staff. Certain senior members of the male and female staff would always join hands in the scandal club; may be as a part of ragging, or as a vengeance against a dedicated junior staff. Sadly, this guy had been a victim of their attack once and got his reputation shrunk. He was linked with a very senior lady staff of the school, almost half added to his age, just because he had a friendly relation with her, who was his neighbor and a good family friend too. Stories mended started spreading like a flash, which even reached the ears of a few of the students. The whole hungama had hurt him so badly and that was the beginning of his behavior syndrome.
I felt really bad. Really like living in hell, when one turn out to be lonely amid a large group…
To my surprise he spoke to me, about a month later. Even though it was purely official I was happy that he didn’t include me in the list of the silly scandal mongerers. Slowly he started speaking friendly, and I found him to be a really nice person. He never crossed the limits. A happily married person who considered his family as the dearest on earth, he always had one thing or the other to say about them, especially his kids. He also had his own unique perspective about his profession & everything in life.
Still the scandal mongerers were keen on cooking up ‘spicy’ stories about him, whenever possible!
I left the school after four years, but still we maintain our contact through phone calls. A man with a clear cut vision about life, he is One Of My Wonderful Friends.
Still I really don’t know why people are so impatient to spill stains on a nice person for no sake of gain.
The melodrama began. Familiar faces are back for curtain rise, at my door once again, begging for votes, promising a utopia. I am not scoffing the prestigious democratic system of my country. What did they do in their previous term?
Underdevelopment had pushed my town 10years back in progress. No good roads, no proper traffic system, insufficient water supply, and lack of proper drainage system… the list is endless. Over to it the rates of crimes have tripled making our lives superlatively miserable.
It has been same and will be again, whoever rules. A “whatever, who cares” attitude is not just in a democratic world, but previous experiences started making me think so. I am also aware that if I don’t vote I really have no right to complain about government’s decisions which I cannot bear. If I cast my vote or not, things are not going to change. Should I vote against my conscience? Yet to find an answer…