I just gathered that by even trying to write about a topic of this nature, I am crossing the family threshold of talking such talk. But god be blessed, it’s the twenty first century; and random Americans have already booked their tickets on the next shuttle to Mars. So what’s the big deal if I go on and talk about PDA? Oh, oh, wait a minute. I think you’re getting it wrong. We’re not talking soft subjects like how blackberries can potentially destroy the world. We are in fact talking subjects more subtle - like public display of affection.

And now since I’ve managed to get your attention, ponder this. Have you noticed how our stock markets over the last couple of years have rocketed away like it was part of some INSAT launch program? Have you noticed how every rich man list these days, whether its Forbes or Fortune has enough and more Indian names to boot? Tell me about it, we even have the clout to change the international cricket itinerary and buy cricket players like how my mom buys tomatoes at Russell Market. I am sure we’ve all noticed it and are proud of it as well (I’ll pay 50, can I have Symonds please. And will Clarke come free. ROFL). But then that apart, we’ve changed in other ways as well. For one, we have so much more love on the streets these days. Ok, you do have the occasional moral policing acts at Meerut or Lucknow which undermines my argument, but let’s choose to look over it for the moment.

Now picture this. Any swanky coffee bar you walk into these days and lounge is the word. And very single twenty something worth his spiked hair is sprawling around doing things they should not be doing. Arre, who would tell them that laying down couches does not mean, you actually should do all that you would do in a couch otherwise, I once overheard a pensioner say to another. And that for a country which still finds it bold to flirt over Orkut let alone flesh and blood is a definite quantum improvement.

So what is it that’s causing the social change, you ask? What else, its Imraan Hashmi godammit. He’s done to PDA what Martin Luther King did for black liberation, what Che did for the Cuban revolution. He’s done to Bollywood movies what Walt Disney did to animation.

So gone are the days where two vigorously swaying daffodils was the epitome of love making. So much so that with no sex education classes in those days, only the very smart ones believed that it was not a daffodil that they had to thank for their lineage. So if you’re one of those doting parents reading this and hoping PDA is not going to touch your little one before he turns 16 then I’d recommend you leave the country. With bag, baggage and kids included. Or look around for a time machine somewhere in Chor Bazaar. And I’d suggest you buy it if you do find it. And roll the knob back 30 odd years. Because those were innocent times; where Mr. Hashmi did not exist. And the kids still thought it was the freaking daffodils.


What just hit me?
By Deepti Ravi

Little Miss Red Riding Hood
Was skipping in an enchanted wood,
Twirling a daisy in her hand
Humming a song in la-la land

The sun was dancing to her tune
Waltzing along was the moon
A fox was chasing its own tail
Down little Red Riding Hood’s trail

Out of the blue, out of the down
Along came an engine screaming its horn
Knocked little Red Riding Hood down
Snorted, sneered and rode back to town

The mourning sun went to hide
The daisies drooped, the moon she cried,
‘Poor little Miss Red Riding Hood
Skipping alone in an enchanted wood’

‘But’, screeched the owl in a loud aside,
‘Why did she hop where engines ride?’