Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Outsourced - really?

I finally managed to catch an episode of the new series on Z-cafe called 'Outsourced'. Well, it is supposed to be seen from the eyes of an American called Todd, who is sent to India to head a BPO outfit...but somehow there are too many things wrong with it and it comes across as condescending, partially racist and totally culturally ignorant...here are my two-bits on whats not working for me..
  • Why is the American shown as the manager - he could probably have been just another employee - this is NOT Air Force One and we dont need Harrison Ford to save us in the outsourcing business too....we can manage very well on our own, thank you very much
  • The entire cast is American - well, they may have brown skin but they have obviously never lived in urban India and especially not visited it post 1991 - all the women wear bindis with their office trousers, have wavy 'Indian' hair and talk in a strange accent and all the men wear clothes clearly made in 1960
  • The coffee table / dinner discussions between the gora man and the indian babe revolve only around 'arranged marriages' ....come on, get a grip, its a way of life and it works here...its too much of a cliche to put in the script
  • At the after-work parties, all the sissy looking Indian men dance together in a corner while the women are missing in action....its upto the 2 goras to add some zing to the party - it would help if the script writers had actually visited India before writing the dialogues...
It was so exciting to watch the promo - India as a topic of an international sitcom, but alas the actual product sucks....catch it at 11 pm and let me know what you think of it

Monday, January 23, 2012

Being a mother

After 4 years of raising my son, it struck me today how much he means to me...while there was never any doubt in my mind that I love him to bits, I would sometimes (guiltily) reminisce about my 'before-kid' past life - the freedom to work long hours, to watch a late night film, to eat at new places without the fear of a new-taste puke on my new clothes, to wake up after 7 am (!)...

However today after seeing him go through a minor surgery and his post-operative misery, I have come to the conclusion that there is no greater joy and no greater pain than being a mother...to hear him scream out my name in his disoriented post-anasthesia phase, to see him whimper like an injured puppy made me want to cry out too...and it brought my protective motherly instinct to the fore like never before...and then to hear him settle down simply by being held in my arms and gently snore made me want to never let any further harm come to him ever again !

I was always the motherly sort - would coo at strangers' babies, but I was this motherly?? I had no idea...till today...