Interview: Kangana Ranaut by Tara Kaushal

December 2012: Already an industry veteran at 25, the smart, sassy and spunky Kangana Ranaut talks about creativity, love and work as she lives life on her own terms.

The cover of Harper's Bazaar.

The cover of Harper's Bazaar.

“You can come earlier if you’d like: Kangana is running a little ahead of schedule,” says her sister Rangoli when I call to confirm the interview a few hours before time. Not what you expect when you call for a star in the middle of a hectic shoot schedule, when you’ve been warned that 30 minutes is all you’ve got. And when I arrive at Elphinstone College—where she is shooting Dharma Productions’ latest, Ungli—at two on a Sunday afternoon, she emerges quickly and fuss-free from her van.

But there are a lot of things about Kangana Ranaut that are refreshing surprises. Sans make-up, in a black top and jeans, with her curly mop casually framing her face, she could pass as a tall, lean, pretty Mumbai college student, with a friendly, confident, no-frills attitude—and smarts—to match.

It is no surprise that this spunky, free-spirited Manali girl feels right at home in the city she adopted over seven years ago, albeit she misses the mountains and skiing. “Where I come from there are so many restrictions, social things to be followed. To me, Mumbai means freedom. You don’t know one another here; you don’t even know your neighbour. You can do anything, say or wear anything,” she eulogises.

And what does she like to wear? “I wear exciting clothes,” she laughs, listing Sabyachi, Gavin Miguel and Rohit Bal as her favourite designers. “My style is androgynous, manly yet feminine. I use a lot of accessories like stoles, boots, men’s bags, aviators and denim shirts.” She strongly believes that the way you dress should sync with the way you want to be seen—“If a girl is sitting next to me with her cleavage in my face, I won’t be able to concentrate on conversation, let alone a man!”—and that body language and how you project your sexuality are important when at work. “When you want respect, and to get attention in the right way for the right reasons—and not for your curves or because you’re a girl—you need to dress powerfully. No, not like a man, that’s not the idea. The idea is to be comfortable with your sexuality but, at the same time, not overdo it.”

The Harper's Bazaar cover story.

The Harper's Bazaar cover story.

In some ways, hers is a modern-day fairy-tale Mumbai story with a powerful woman protagonist, isn’t it? From Manali and Dehradun to Delhi to model and do theatre with Arvind Gaur, to being discovered in a Mumbai café by Anurag Basu for the lead role in her 2006 blockbuster debut film… She cuts me off: “I wasn’t discovered in a café; I gave over 20 auditions for Gangster!” Kangana takes pride in where she’s reached, claiming credit for her hard work where it’s due, rubbishing the story that attributes her success merely to a lucky break. This she balances with an easy modesty, making the dynastic Bollywood, peppered with larger-than-life godfathers, out to be a true meritocracy. “I don’t know how fake this sounds but it’s not very hard to be part of Bollywood. You need to learn a skill, be good at it. If I hadn’t gotten Gangster, I would have gotten something else. A capable person is a capable person… I could be a sweeper and still be a damn good one. The thing is: do you really have the courage to follow your dreams while being practical and in touch with life.”

It’s not like she hasn’t had her fair share of reality checks. In October 2006, riding high on the success of her big debut film, she received news that her sister had been the victim of an acid attack in Dehradun. She talks about the time with deep maturity and understanding. “There are so many sad things that happen in the the world, so many people facing tragedy. Sometimes it just happens to people who are close to us—there’s no looking back, you just deal with it. You have to accept tragedy the way you accept happiness. You accept good people and hold goodness around you; in the same way evil does exist and there isn’t much you can do about it.”

At 25, six years since her debut, she has blockbusters like Fashion and Once Upon a Time in Mumbaai, and fizzlers alike to her name. 2013 will see her among an ensemble cast in Sanjay Gupta’s Shootout at Wadala, slated for a January release, and in Rakesh Roshan’s Krrish 3, alongside Hrithik Roshan, Priyanka Chopra and Vivek Oberoi, around Diwali. “I was very flexible, I still am. Now it’s great to be in this space where I have options and am getting to play a variety of characters.” But ask her which of the whole gamut of roles she’s essayed has satisfied her the most, and pat comes the reply: “As a creative person, nothing really satisfies me. I’m always restless wanting to do something, to find something. But I kind of enjoy doing different things.”

The ‘different things’ includes direction, something she sees herself pursuing long-term. In July, she directed her first short film in Los Angeles with an all-American cast and crew, about a dog and a four-year-old boy. “Direction satisfies me—temporarily, at least. I think it utilises all my creative energies.” Ask her to name a film she’d have liked to have directed, and she doesn’t blink. “No Country for Old Men,” she says, “I think it’s perfect.”

As our conversation meanders to Bollywood and the media, then versus now, Kangana declares that she’d like to have been born two decades earlier. “Simi [Garewal] and Ashaji [Bhosle] are good friends, and they tell me stories of the sixties and seventies. I think that generation had a lot more fun than we do, they were a lot more open and chilled out—people were in simultaneous live-in relationships, many were openly homosexual.” I opine that one of the reasons was that the media wasn’t reporting your every move, so image management wasn’t so central to behaviour and there was a bit of mystique behind closed doors. “Yeah. Even when Ajay [Devgn] tells me stories, I am amazed at how free they felt. Today we are scrutinised and criticised for everything we do, and so there is no freedom enjoy stardom and be a bit real. Look at the guys, so focused on work, and all the girls, Miss Goody Two Shoes. There isn’t a moment where you will see them losing it or doing crazy things. Everybody’s boring!”

The Indian media, she feels, is particularly unrelenting. “In Hollywood, if reviewers don’t like a film or your acting, they are dismissive. Here, they make it a point to rub it in your face.” Ditto for wardrobe malfunctions. “If a performer or artist has an incident, the ‘news’ is rerun over and over. It’s often just a pin or a thread that’s come undone: move on, the artist deserves some respect.”

Kangana, for one, hasn’t been a boring Goody Two Shoes in the public eye; she’s been real. There’s been that sordid affair with Aditya Pancholi involving an ugly public spat, then came Adhyayan Suman, and we recently heard she’s no longer seeing her British boyfriend, doctor-musician Nicholas Lafferty.

After a flicker of a smile, I get a nonchalant, give-a-damn answer, none of this just-good-friends pussyfooting. “I am an urban girl. It’s okay to date and sometimes you break up. It doesn’t really affect me anymore.” She admits to enjoying her last relationship and says it was the distance and “too much space” that did it in. I remind her that she had been quite excited about the space of this long-distance relationship at the start. “It was new, a refreshing change, but you evolve, expectations change… Nicholas and I just thought we should each see if we have better opportunities, the possibility of romantic relationships closer by.”

So is there? “Hopefully, yes, let’s see,” she says with a twinkle in her eye. “I can’t wake up one morning and say ‘Let’s mingle today!’, so I’m just going with the flow.”

As I’m about to leave, I point out that she appears so much in control—she knows how she wants to live, what she wants to do and wear, and does it, irrespective of the scrutiny. “You’re jumping to conclusions,” she laughs, “Sometimes I don’t feel in control at all!” But she is an inspiring woman, successful and living life on her own terms. “Yeah. I guess that’s what makes me a Harper’s cover girl!”


An edited version of this interview was the cover story of Harper's Bazaar in December 2012.

No, I Don't Love Bal Thackeray by Tara Kaushal

November 2012: And I am not alone. The experience of expressing dissent on the internet.

Of all the people I know, I am, perhaps, the person least interested in the country's politics. I often skip the front pages of newspapers, and have a growing immunity to scam exposés. I don't own a TV, and don’t watch the 24x7 political dramas that are Indian news channels. I share the disdain and despair towards Indian politics that many of my circle of liberal, educated friends have. For these (and certain logistical reasons), I don't hold a voter's ID card, and, I'm afraid to admit that at 29, I have never voted.

The despair is because I know what I want in my government, and there's not a single candidate or party that stands for values that are important to me—social and economic laissez-faire (loosely translated: your rights end where my nose begins); progressive ideas about education, sanitation, women's and the LGBT community’s emancipation, etc; without religious, caste, creed or gender biases (where toilets are genuinely more important than temples). The disdain and distrust (disgust?) come from the feeling that all is not what it seems, and we are being hoodwinked by people whose agenda is not what meets the eye. Those in politics, those affiliated to political dynasties, seem to enjoy the perks of nepotism and the power of ill-gotten wealth, including sustained immunity from prosecution for all sorts of wide-ranging crimes, from illegal hoardings to amassing the aforementioned ill-gotten wealth, to rape and murder and brutality. Perhaps I paint too dark a canvas.

What I know I don't like—no, hate—is Bal Thackeray and what he and the Sena stood for. In principle, I disagree with almost everything I read in the newspapers, and the extensive research I've been doing since the Thursday bandh in anticipation of his death only reinforces my stand. Be it the religious and bhumiputra persecution of Muslims, South Indians, UPites and Biharis, and its inherent anti-national, anti-constitutional premise. Or the demonising of the West. Or the brute force and terror he used to enforce his opinions on those who didn't follow, a legacy his supporters held up on Thursday’s part-shutdown and Sunday’s let-a-leaf-not-stir bandh. To me, he represents all that holds this city back socioculturally, the argument of the physical progress that he initiated notwithstanding.

The point here is not why I dislike Thackeray; the point is that I do. So when he died on Saturday afternoon, I wrote my mind on my Facebook account, linked to my Twitter handle. "No offense, but I refuse to be sorry that Bal T is dead. A) There is no cure for old age—he was 86. B) This city needed to get on with life, not be held ransom by his simmering goons, threatening to erupt since Thursday. C) I have never respected the man's Hindu, regionalist politics anyway. Perhaps he will find Biharis, UPites, Muslims and Maharashtrians alike in the afterlife." One of the first of my Facebook circle to openly voice what many of us were feeling, the discussion took off. Over the next 48 hours, over the Sunday and halfway through Monday, I wrote many posts, each followed by hundreds—I kid you not—of ‘likes’ and dozens of comments. And I was not the only one with such status updates: “Good riddance” was a common, polite refrain; and many people voiced stronger opinions still.

It is safe to assume that most of my Facebook ‘friends’ are pretty socioculturally similar to me: urban, middle-class, educated, liberal. I realised that, of the 2,500-or-so of them, only five-six are declared Thackeray fans. Of them, only three have feebly—and I mean feeeeebly—stood up for him, one calling me a dog, another saying I'm "stupid and immature" and not a "true Maharashtrian" (which I'm not, whatever that signifies, but I’m married to a secular one), the third with some reasons that others on my Wall and I have disputed. (19 lakh wrongs don’t make a right, methinks.) I have received many new friend requests, strangers giving support and applauding "courage". I have watched and participated in highly stimulating, free discussions in progress in the comments, ranging from the immediate reasons for the bandh; to the legality of the Sena’s stand; to the legacy that has been left behind for this city to grapple with; to the stark contrast between Ambedkar’s and Gandhi’s stands—equality, non-violence, religious tolerance—and Thackeray’s small-mindedness; etc. A few strong articles are doing the rounds, and they are being shared and discussed.

The worry started brewing early by about Monday noon. Friends and family started asking me to tone it down, saying that, though they don't care about Thackeray, goons will beat me up. Plus, the young girl in Palghar had been arrested for ‘hurting religious sentiments’ for a status update far tamer than mine—and her uncle’s hospital burnt, in typical Sena style—as had the lone friend who had ‘liked’ her status. By this standard, I thought, there is some strength in numbers, and not just theirs. Would the police arrest three-four hundred of us (that I knew of)?

In deference to their concern and, admittedly, my own fears, I made my Wall private, though ignored family’s appeal to delete my posts entirely. “I’d rather you be a scaredy cat and alive,” said my mother dramatically. I’m scared, but someone has to say these things, I argued with another, the girls’ arrests are unconstitutional and… “Sure, they will be released, the cops who arrested them may be suspended. But what happens to the burnt hospital? No one will hold the Sena accountable for that. This is not a utopia, this is India.”

Not a utopia, but an imperfect democracy. The fact that we’re still living in fear of brutes like the Sena, revering a current-day wannabe dictator in the mould of Hitler in what is tom-tommed as the ‘world’s largest democracy’ underscores the fact that it is highly flawed and fledgling. More worrying, though, is the reaction of the media—the cornerstone of a democracy—to Thackeray’s death. Few and far between are calling a spade a spade, remembering Bal Thackeray as the unapologetic instigator of the '92-3 riots, the indirect cause of many deaths and much property damage over the years, not to mention the umpteen bandhs and the fear psychosis drummed in to the city-psyche. Who’s asking why he received a State funeral? Is this fear, fakeness or genuine respect? Any answer leaves us with cause for concern.

As most of the media bows its sycophantic head in obeisance (and shame, methinks), is the internet the last option as a voice for those who hope that India’s last deified politician has gone. 2,500 people may be a small, insignificant sample-size compared to a formidable 19 lakh. But our strength will never be numbers; it will have to be the pen. And, if you find someone to represent your beliefs, in your vote.

It is Tuesday evening as I write this. Part of me is still afraid of being arrested. I wanted to say this and be heard, but ask me if I’ve thought through all the consequences, and I’ll say no, and I'm not prepared. We have read and heard horror stories of the persecution Tarun Tejpal and his family endured when he unleashed the era of scam exposure, without the backing of a big media house, when Tehelka was a mere website. Many years since, have political parties matured enough to respect that opposition is part of a functioning democracy and/or become thick-skinned to allegations? Or do they still care enough to persecute every critical voice? Am I about to find out?


This article was written in November 2012.

No, nothing happened then; the Shiv Sena did not burn down my house. I have become far more political since; the Modi era of politics has pushed me to take a stand.

‘Hum do humare do’ or ‘One is fun’? by Tara Kaushal

November 2011: The family-planning dilemma—how many kids should you have. Presenting all sides of the story

We’re really lucky, aren’t we? No longer held ransom to our biology, we’re in control of the number of kids we want to have (or don’t). So instead of naming a ‘Baskari’ (meaning ‘stop’, true story!) in frustration, we can actually bus karo.

But how many kids is ideal? Now, there is no ideal one-size-fits-all answer. Your culture, money situation (kids are expensive, do you have the space—beyond a certain age, it is unhealthy for different-sex siblings to share a room), circumstances (are you a single parent?), etc are unique to you. But let’s take a look at the pros and cons of your options.

3 is a Crowd, More is an Army!

… To appropriate a cliché. Unless you have to have more than two kids (religion, organ-donor compatibility, etc), try not to “make a mistake” (mother-of-three Shalini’s words, not mine). Not only are you contributing more than your fair share to the over-populated planet, you and your resources—time, money, effort—will be that much more stretched. 

This is not to say that there aren’t advantages to your kids having more than one sibling. Studies have shown that, the higher the combined IQ in the house, the smarter the kids. 

1, Like the Sun

I’m a single child (no cousins either)! Whenever I’ve told people that, the first reaction is usually, “You must be so spoilt!” Sure, I was. But there was also the pressure of expectations, the loneliness, the lack of a ready play-partner/advice-giver, etc.

But of course, one could argue that my hyper-imagination is the result of all the times I had to find creative ways to entertain myself. There’s also the undivided budget, attention and time, that gives single kids an improved quality of life. The extra care (and boredom) made me confident enough to seek the company I needed, and make water-is-as-thick-as-blood friendships. Plus, there’s my attachment to animals—my parents kept pets to make me less selfish and bored, something experts and I suggest all parents of single kids (all kids, actually) must do.

2 Have or Not 2 Have

Two kids seem to have the best of both worlds. Each other’s love, company and stimulation tend to balance and compensate for the parents’ divided time-effort-money. Not all is always hunky-dory, and your family dynamic and their personalities will determine how healthy the sibling relationship it.

Bottom-line: While two is the most popular pick among the mothers we spoke to (it has my vote too), you can bring up healthy, happy kids, whether they’re one of one, one of two or one of many. There are advantages and disadvantages all around, so take a call depending on what works for you!


This article appeared on Yowoto—a now-defunct parenting website startup that I helped incubate as Editor-in-chief—in November 2011.

While I’m now a firm childless antinatalist, my politics weren’t fully formed when I took this short-lived assignment to explore the digital side of publishing (though it was never a good fit). Nonetheless, some of the articles I wrote at the time are interesting.

 

Peer Pressure & the Parent by Tara Kaushal

October 2011: Bansi Mehta and I list what you can do to help your kids.

Do the very words ‘peer pressure’ send chills down your spine? Do you miss the wonderful days when all you had to do was feed and put the babies to bed? Now they are grown-ups, taking tentative steps and forming relationships in a world you can’t completely control. With friends comes peer pressure—so what can you do?

You know we believe that teaching your kids how to make the right choices—and to face their consequences—is a better parenting technique than making decisions for them. So, instead of banning certain friends and laying down the law, teach your kids how not to succumb to herd mentality and peer pressure. Here are some pointers.

Wipe that Frown Off Your Face!

Of course, no one is as good as your baby. When kids start to develop their own relationships, try not to be extra-possessive or too judgmental about the friends they make. Unless there’s a real threat of bad influence, accept your kids’ friends, flaw et al.

You know that childhood friendships can see your kids through their lifetimes, so develop a relationship of trust with your kids and their friends early on.

Talk, Talk, Talk

Keep the communication going. Firstly, whether or not you’re told directly, when you talk you’ll easily catch clues about what’s going on in your children’s lives. Serious thoughts—about how a series of actions becomes a personality; about a sense of discretion, and the need for critical thinking and questioning in making choices—need not come in the form of a dreaded ‘lecture’; you could just slip them in to casual conversation.

Being clued in also allows you to give preemptive advice on situations your kids may encounter soon—are her friends drinking already? Time to slip in a gentle word about drinking responsibly at the right age.

The More Secure Your Kids Are…

The less likely they are to blindly follow the (social) leader. Insecure kids may prioritise the need to ‘fit in’ over following their own hearts. Making a child secure is an ongoing parenting priority, with no shortcuts or guarantees. We’d love to hear how you provide your children emotional stability.

The ‘Jumping Into the Well’ Story

‘So, if all your friends jump in to a well, will you follow?’ This little question is a golden oldie. If your children are feeling compelled to do something they don’t want to do, this question is the key. While you might get the wise-aleck ‘to save them’ answer, you’ll certainly get your point across—that they ought to choose what’s best for them.   

“All Sachin’s* friends wanted to go for hip-hop classes,” says Shweta* from Mumbai. “He preferred singing but didn’t seem to have a choice in the majority vote.” Shweta didn’t tell 13-year-old Sachin what to do. She helped him reason out why he should choose singing. “Once he understood that he needn’t blindly follow the herd, he followed his heart.”

Tried this line yourself? How and why—and did it work?

You Just Don’t Approve

Sachin felt compelled to do something he didn’t want to do. But what if your kids are considering doing something you don’t want them to do? By the time your kids encounter peer pressure, you’ve (hopefully!) already instilled your family’s values in to them. However, it can certainly make them waiver.

Try reasoning out their choice. Rajiv* sat down to explain to 15-year-old Ansh* why he couldn’t drive until it was legal, even if his friends were. “I heard him out,” says Rajiv, “but he just wasn’t ready to see the mature point of view.” If you still can’t convince your kids so see your reasoning, well, just remember the bottom line…

You’re still the parent! The home is not a democracy, so put your foot down.


This article appeared on Yowoto—a now-defunct parenting website startup that I helped incubate as Editor-in-chief—in October 2011.

While I’m now a firm childless antinatalist, my politics weren’t fully formed when I took this short-lived assignment to explore the digital side of publishing (though it was never a good fit). Nonetheless, some of the articles I wrote at the time are interesting.

The Anti-cracker Debate by Tara Kaushal

October 2011: A quick-smart way to explain their negatives to our kids.

I met my friend Sandy*, mother of eight-year-old twins Antara* and Anhad*, for a walk on Carter Road a few days ago. When I asked this staunch do-gooder why she seemed so preoccupied, she revealed that the twins had been insisting on buying Diwali crackers. “When they were little, we’d get by with a few phooljhadis each. But now, when I think they’re old enough to stop, they’re really keen on bursting more! I just don’t know how to say no. I don’t want to deny them joy and make them seem uncool because of my beliefs, you know?”

Over our hour-long walk, we came up with an argument that (we hoped) would work with the little twins—and it has! So, how did she—and how can you—tell your kids, simply, why the fun of crackers is just not worth it?

How It Went Down

While she could simply say ‘no’, Sandy is a democratic parent. She sat the kids down and started off explaining how everything they chose in life has to be weighed for positives and negatives. Once the kids understood this point, it was a cakewalk…

“In one simple line I asked them: ‘Does it make sense that for 30 seconds of beauty, you’re A) causing noise and air pollution that affects dogs, cats, asthmatics and the environment; B) supporting child labour; C) supporting unsafe and unfair work environments for the children and adults working in these factories; D) wasting money; and E) playing with unsafe things.’”

After curious questions (“How child labour?”, “Why unsafe?”, “What happens to dogs and cats during Diwali?”), Antara and Anhad went to sleep preoccupied.

The next morning, the twins declared they no longer wanted to burst crackers for Diwali. “Convincing them was easier than I thought,” says Sandy. “We really underestimate their intelligence sometimes, don’t we?”

How have you stopped your kids from bursting crackers this Diwali? We’d love to know your story…


This article appeared on Yowoto—a now-defunct parenting website startup that I helped incubate as Editor-in-chief—in October 2011. Read another article I wrote about firecrackers here.

While I’m now a firm childless antinatalist, my politics weren’t fully formed when I took this short-lived assignment to explore the digital side of publishing (though it was never a good fit). Nonetheless, some of the articles I wrote at the time are interesting.

Kids & the Joy of Festivals by Tara Kaushal

October 2011: How do we get our kids to look beyond the commercialisation of festivals?

Growing up in a Hindu-Catholic household, we celebrated a lot of festivals. We’d light our house up for Diwali, sing carols at Christmas, and generally, have a lot of celebrations. And while the presents and new clothes were part of the excitement, they were certainly not the only part…

But in the days of obscene 15,000-rupee crackers and enticing hoardings demanding our festival funds, there seems to be no question about not spending—the question is only how to spend. Are you worried that consumerism is all our kids associate with these celebrations?

How do responsible parents ensure that kids really know the real joy of festivals? We’ve come up with some ideas—and would love to hear yours.

Tell the Story

“Things have certainly changed,” says a teacher I spoke to, “The other day, my kids in the fifth standard submitted their Diwali essays. I was horrified that few focused on the festival; in most, ‘I want’ was a recurrent theme!”

Reclaim festivals from the clutches of marketers by focusing on their history and religious significance.

Reinterpret

While kids must know the significance of festivals, young kids aren’t able to look beyond their fun aspect, which is why parents seek creative ways—like the Muslim superhero comic-book series—to make religion more palatable to little ones.

To modernise and contextualise festivals, you could take inspiration from what Isky, a Muslim married to a Hindu, did. So frustrated was he with the over-doing of Christmas in his kids’ school, that he created ‘Imran Claus’, a loving figure who the kids awaited on Eid. “It was easy to make them understand and enjoy our festival through a familiar figure they love. Parenting is about creative thinking after all!”

Focus on Family

We really like festivals at Anne and Jagjit’s home—the Makhijani household celebrates present-free. “It allows the kids to focus on the important part of these celebrations—the communal cooking and yummy food; the gaggle of cousins and other family that descend on our house; the laughter,” says Anne. “Presents don’t become the only thing the kids value about these special times.”

Give, Not Get

Use festivals to explain the joy of giving to our kids. “Of course one must buy during festivals,” my mum told me when I was little, “but only to give away.” Make an annual ritual of visiting an orphanage, giving away old clothes to the needy, or anything else to promote the joy of giving.

Anyway, Diwali’s here. All of us at Yowoto wish you and your family a happy, fun-filled New Year!


This article appeared on Yowoto—a now-defunct parenting website startup that I helped incubate as Editor-in-chief—in October 2011.

While I’m now a firm childless antinatalist, my politics weren’t fully formed when I took this short-lived assignment to explore the digital side of publishing (though it was never a good fit). Nonetheless, some of the articles I wrote at the time are interesting.

Mind Over Missing by Tara Kaushal

October 2011: What do you do if you’re a missing-in-action parent?

Papa was coming home! The house was abuzz with excitement, and seven-year-old me was in charge of doing a last cleanup. When he arrived, I proudly showed off my contribution around the house, even following him into their bathroom. Here, Papa noticed a new bar of soap. “Tara*, why have you put out new soap?” he asked. “Because,” I replied, “Mummy’s told me that I must open new soap every time a guest comes home…”

I didn’t realise then how much I had hurt my rarely home Naval Officer father, but have never forgotten his shocked, crestfallen face. As a parent who travels a lot on work, I’m sure there are times you too are acutely aware of the void you’re leaving in your kids’ lives and of all you’re missing, aren’t there?

We’re come up with a few tips on how best to be a parent-in-absentia… Tell us your stories and ideas… we’d love to hear ’em!

Keep in Touch

Have you seen the latest iPhone ad? It has lovely footage of a father watching his baby, live, from far away. Fortunately, we live in the tech era, not the trunk call one, so use it to bridge the gap. With mobiles, Skype, BBM, WhatsApp, SMS, email, Facebook, (the list is endless), there’s no excuse not to tell bedtime stories, get ‘how was your day at school?’ updates, and basically be as accessible as possible…

Stay Up-to-date

Use technology not only to be in touch with your kids, but also to stay tuned in to what’s going on around them. Stay involved in their worlds by staying connected to their teachers, friends, friends’ parents, and your spouse, of course!

Set a Ritual

High-flying marketing guru, Navroze Dhondy has taken his kids to school every day for the past 17+ years—every day that he’s home, that is. “My travelling has only increased in the last few years. But this ritual, that I’ve had since my daughter was four (she’s now 21, my son’s in the 11th) has helped me stay connected to the kids. It’s our bonding time, where a lot of questions are asked, connections are made. Waking up early has certainly been worth it!”

Keep it Real

“Leaving everything to the maids and the drivers creates an unhealthy world for the kids,” says Navroze. So even if you’re away a lot, when you can, make a special effort to do the small, seemingly insignificant things—combing their hair, making their tiffin—not only contribute to the ‘bigger’ occasions.

Being There for the ‘Big’ Times

Don’t you remember running in to your dad’s arms when you lost the tennis championship by a whisker when you were in the sixth? Or that sepia-toned Diwali when the whole family was together, just before your brother went off to hostel?

No matter how much you travel or how important your job is, your role or absence on some days will be forever etched in your kids’ memories. Is there a PTA meeting, sports’ day, birthday, festival coming up? Try realigning your schedule to be around for important days.

Don’t Overcompensate

Our Delicious Daddy Hrithik Roshan, who, as we all know, jet sets across the world, is particularly worried about overcompensating for his absences. You should be careful too: you see why being too indulgent when you’re back will upset the order and routine in your kids’ lives, and is patently unfair to the always-there parent, right?

Is one of you a parent-in-absentia? How do you stay connected to your kids?


This article appeared on Yowoto—a now-defunct parenting website startup that I helped incubate as Editor-in-chief—in October 2011.

While I’m now a firm childless antinatalist, my politics weren’t fully formed when I took this short-lived assignment to explore the digital side of publishing (though it was never a good fit). Nonetheless, some of the articles I wrote at the time are interesting.