Ram Gopal Verma ki Aag : review

Raam Gopal Verma ki Hag.. ohh. Sorry…Aag

It is commonly held that villages are cleaner and more pure than cities which are polluted. And if the village is exposed to the urban culture, the purity is lost. Some might debate this but in the context of this movie, the notion holds true.
While sholay, in the pristine village of Rampur was clean, the new sholay, set in the city is equally dirty.
The biggest problem with the movie is that it tries to compete with a masterpiece of Indian cinema. What the director forgets is that the audience will be comparing the movies frame-to-frame. He pulls scenes from the old movie, uses what he calls creativity and others call destruction and cuts and pastes delivering a really ugly movie. It does not score in acting, or direction or cinematography or editing, even the songs are disgusting: a complete fracas of a movie. I figured the dialogue writer was paid less or he really wanted to take it out on the director, because the script he has come up with, causes the audience to make disgusted noises, or chant ‘hey Bhagwaan’ loudly. After Sarkar, RGV thought that weird camera angles make the movie good, too bad he did not understand that such a formula does not work everytime. Oh yes, and I forget to mention the overdoing of sound effects, is a jarring overtone to an already failed orchestra. And then there is the casting. Nisha as the scantily clad, overly talkative Ghungroo, needs acting lessons, and a revision of the age old dictum about being successful in movies ‘skin does not go far…’. Sushmita is ‘thakur saab’s’ widowed daughter-in-law, stuttering in dialogue delivery and more made up than a widow should be. Ajay and the other insignificant actor who plays his bosom buddy are confused and irritating, even more so when compared to the original jai-veeru duo. And then there is Amitabh Bachhan in one of the worst roles of his career. With his makeup, and doglike laughter, he’s not only disgusting to look as but he does his lines equally bad. Every moment the audience pines for the good old actors, the angrezoon ke zamane ka jailer and mausiji, but all they get is a disgusting spoof of the original.
The esteemed director was heard commenting that the movie will look better if we did not compare it with the original. “after all it is a complete movie in it’s own right.” Well I’m sorry Mr. Director, it hardly qualifies for a movie, and standalone it would even look worse, because the faint shadow of the original that is keeping it going will be gone.
As a critic I demand the rights to give negative stars. And having got them, I give this movie -5 stars.

Why-Fi?

I have a T-Shirt which carries the message “ I am analog”. I’ve had a number of weird comments and questions thrown at me whenever I don the T-shirt. But the most thought provoking question came from the gatekeeper of the place I work. He asked “ Sirjee! Yeh Analog kya hota hai?” Apparently he knew how to read English, which surprised me.
I was at a loss of words.
How does one explain technology to the ‘common man’? India is a booming IT and ITes powerhouse and still the people who know and interact with technology are a very select group. I won’t be talking about the great economic divide and the rich poor debate, but put very simply, the point I’m trying to make is that a huge chunk of India’s population has been unable to keep up with the technology; and the kind of education system that exists makes sure that they won’t be catching up in the near future.

Then why is the government intent on pushing technology into these hands who do not know what to do with it? Wi-Fi krishi mandis, laptops for village schools, wireless farm management systems? What sense does this make? I’m not saying that technology should be kept away from the developing areas; it is a big help; but the difference between useful technology and technology should be properly understood. A mobile might make a lot of sense to a farmer living in a remote village, but a laptop does not.

To me, the reason behind this blind thrust to bring technology to the people is that the government can then make claims like ‘we enabled the ‘underprivileged’ children by giving them free laptops’ or ‘the country is on the fast track of development: everyone will have a hi-speed broadband connection by 2010’. What the children do with the laptops and their hi-speed connections is none of their concern. A flood of hi-tech solutions, to problems that do not need them, is not development.

It’s been around in the news for long: plans of making Delhi Wi-Fi. Why? I’ll ask again. Has the government paused to look at the number of internet users in Delhi and of those who actually have the equipment to use Wi-Fi?

Cosmetics for making Delhi look good for the Commonwealth games is an acceptable expenditure, but a cosmetic surgery is something our poor country can ill afford. Like it or not, we still are a poor country. Go ahead, spend the money on technology, but let that be sensible technology and not that looks good and is of no use whatsoever.

The technological revolution is here, and it no doubt will make the lives of everyone easier and more comfortable. But let things take their own pace, evolution takes time. The evolution can be hastened, educate people, make technology understandable not just accessible; but trying to overtake evolution ( as is apparent) can only lead to disaster.

How many pieces??

I recently spent some time in Kanpur and during my stay I commuted by the city transport bus. It is my strong conviction that observing the local transport and the people who use them gives you a more real picture than any other study can. It actually presents you with a diverse cross section of the ‘common man’.

What really caught my eye as I hung in a mass of bodies in the bus (even though each city in India has a very unique mass transit system, the common thread is the overcrowding) was the marking above some seats.
The two front rows were labelled mahila seat. ‘That makes sense’ I said to myself. Female seats are generally reserved in buses and trains for obvious reasons.

The next seat was marked viklang seat. ‘Even that is okay, physically handicapped people cannot keep standing and a reserved seat for them is justified.'

Next came, and now it started getting a bit weird, a seat labelled manyata prapt patrakaar seat. ‘This is funny. why should Reporters have reserved seats? Fine, we live in a country where the media has unparalleled freedom that is ratified by our democratic setup; but still a seat reserved for a reporter in a city bus ?’ it bewildered me. But the final blow was the next label. It said parshad/vidhayak seat. ‘This is right over the top. Why the hell should a member of the legislature have a seat reserved in a city bus? Any of the members of our legislature travelling by a ‘public’ transport bus is a laughable concept in itself. Apart from the one occasion of maybe inaugurating the service, none of them or anyone even remotely related to them, would ever board a bus.’ But still, I’d like to inform them that if they ever consider doing that they have a seat reserved to save them the agony of standing with the people whom they claim to serve.

Hanging there sweating, memories from a class on fractions during my schooling came to me. It was probably in third grade:
“If I want to divide a cake amongst 5 people, what will be the size of each piece?” the teacher asked.
“One-fifth of the cake” the class replied in unison.
“And what if I want to divide it amongst 10 people?”
“One-tenth of the cake” the class chorused. The teacher divided the circle on the board into ten pieces.
“If I have one cake and I want to give a piece to everyone in the class, then how big would a piece be?”
Everyone started counting heads on their tiny fingers and soon children were excitedly shouting answers, “One upon 55”, “One upon 60” and the teacher drew many lines in the circle. At this moment one of the boys , with supreme innocence that is a characteristic of that age said “ I will get a very tiny piece”
“Yes, but still everyone would get an equal share of whatever there is.”

The boy who asked the question was most probably driven by gastronomic desire, and maybe I too, sitting in the class, was thinking of a tasty cake and did not give a dammn about how large a piece everyone got.

It is now, in the bus, that I see the whole event in a new light. I do not know what brought me that memory. I doubt I could have recalled such an event otherwise, but it now makes a lot of sense.

Making a billion pieces of a cake, so that everyone gets an ‘equal’ share, is hardly a solution. Teach everyone, not how to divide the cake into pieces, but to make a cake when they are hungry.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

CAUTION: DO NOT READ THE LAST CHAPTER. IT WILL BE GOOD IF YOU ACTUALLY TORE OFF THE LAST 5 PAGES AND NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT THEM.

The saga ends finally. I no longer will have to put up with irritating email forwards that purportedly contained the 'pre-release' version of the Seventh Harry Potter book.

J.K Rowling must have faced a tough task when she would have started writing the final book. So many loose ends to tie, so many characters to take care of, and then there were fans who wanted harry alive, but someone must die because it is the Dark Lord who is coming to power. Prophecies, horcruxes and hallows; patronouses, curses and charms; elves, gnomes and goblins; death eaters, werewolves and dragons. They're all there, fitting in a surprisingly seamless story. This is a great achievement. The author has not only explained everything that was a mystery in the previous books but has managed to keep the fans happy too ( but then whenever the story seems like losing steam or teetering over the line of rationality, there is always 'magic' to help). The book is a neatly bundled 'theory of everything' in the Potter universe. Why Dumbeldore trusted Snape so much? or Who is RAB who took the Horcrux, the weird behavior of Harry's wand. All the answers are in there. It is fast paced; a one night read like all other Potter books. But that's not all there is to it, there are times when you are actually 'in' there, other times you are just marvelling at the sheer imaginativeness of the writer.

There are instances where the reader is faced with the death of a character just because otherwise it would have seemed too unrealistic; meaning Mrs. Rowling has been a tad more bloodthirsty in a couple of chapters.

But nevertheless, the book makes a nice read. And i know that everyone of you who assert themselves as adults and conissuers of 'good' writing will read this 'children's' sooner or later, so take my word for it ai'nt that bad.

Bridge to Terabithia : review

" keep your eyes shut tight and you mind wide open"
What better companion than his own imagination can a young friendless boy at school; bullied by friends and chastised by his pragmatic father for being a dreamer, find?
The young Jess is somehow incompatible with his peers. He finds solace from the apparently strange world by retreating in his shell and pursuing his only hobby: drawing. But it is not until he befriends a new girl at school: Leslie, a ferociously independent and imaginative girl, that he discovers how beautiful a place his own imagination can be. Together they weave an imaginary world of demons and friendly trolls around their castle ( an abandoned tree-house) and christen it Terabithia. The movie revolves around their adventures and misadventures in this imaginary, yet so real fantasy land.
The movie strikes a chord with the child in you and you start thinking about those good old days : 'when you were young and you were free...' ( G n' R). It is not just a fantasy movie for children but something which everyone can relate to; for everyone has been a child once.
All the three major child actors Josh Hutcherson ( Jess), Leslie Burke ( Nancy) and Bailee Madison ( May Belle) have performed fabulously, giving the movie the right amount of childlike joy. The special effects are not too real ( they are supposed to be figments of the children's imagination) , but nor are they too imaginary to seem unreal.
A light movie that leaves you with a warm heart and a tearful eye. A nice choice for one of 'those' days.

the day before saturday

“So, all set?” asked Atul, a wry smile on his face.
“All set for what?”
“Well, tomorrow is Saturday”
“And…”
“You’re not fooling anybody with your innocence; I know you’re not just anxious but actually shitting in your pants out of nervousness”
“Why the hell should I be anxious? Just because tomorrow is a Saturday! Gimme a break, I have no ‘weekdayphobia’”
“You and Swati are going out tomorrow” he retorted, as if it was the end of the world.
“Is that what you think is making me shit-in-my-pants?” I mocked, “You’re out of your mind”.
“You are one strange guy. You’re meeting that girl, the one you have a genuine crush on, for the first time, and you are not anxious!” he asked incredulously. “Or, have you prepared already?”
“Prepared?? You sound as if it is an interview. What am I supposed to prepare eh! A brief introduction of myself? A list of my hobbies?” I was satirical.
“Exactly man! This is an interview, the biggest yet of your college life. It is not about a job and money, but about how well you get to spend the remaining 2 years of college. All your happiness from now on depends on this one meeting. But from the look on your face, I do not think you recognize the importance. Don’t worry, you are new to this scene, I’ll teach you!” he replied, irritatingly smug.
“And why do you think you are an expert on the subject?”
“Because I have a girlfriend” he replied in a sing-sing voice.
“I know I will regret this…”
Atul cleared his throat and started, “first, you need to understand why exactly you need to prepare for your first date. The point is you have no idea what might be interpreted from what you say. Female understanding lies beyond the realms of the logically explained world. You might say “I like watching action movies”, and in all sincerity you are referring to genuine action movies, but she might think you like watching porn. Getting the idea?”
“Not exactly…”
“We’ll get to misinterpretation later, first let me iterate the Ten Commandments of a first date, and in general for all subsequent meetings:
One, thou shalt listen with patience everything she says. Remember, e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g she says.
Two, thou shalt not seek truth nor logic in any statement.
Three, thou shalt comment favorably on her dress and her looks, no matter what.
Four, in no case thou art to mention any other girl unless she is a part of an ugly gossip.
Five, thou shalt not talk of any movies other than Kuchh Kuchh hota hai and DDLJ.
Six, thou shalt not talk of any books other than Gone with the wind and Five point someone.
Seven, thou shalt not admit that you hate Enrique Iglesias and think the back street boys are gay. Do not, in any circumstances mention Iron maiden and Pink Floyd.
Eight, thou shalt pay all the bills.
Nine, thou shalt admit that thou love shopping.
And ten, the last and the most important one, thou shalt not say thou love her, under any circumstances or let her say the same. Because if you do, you’re doomed. Understood?”
“I get the first nine, and I may even claim that I understand them, but why the last one? Why cannot I say I love her, if eventually I do get to that stage?” I asked.
“Because you are a free man, and wish to remain so, atleast till you are 25. Saying you love her spells commitment, something no man, let alone you, has any idea about. So just stay out of uncharted territory”.
“Okay..” I replied skeptically.
“Fine, so let us start with the micro aspect of things. What are you going to wear?”
“Clothes” I joked
“This is serious man” Atul looked genuinely serious
“You are the ‘teacher’ so you’d better enlighten me regarding this as well ‘sir’” I couldn’t help mocking him.
“NO message T-shirts, because she’ll never get the joke and think that you are a geek. NO formal wear, party wear etc. got it?”
“So what do I do, go there in my underpants?”
“Shut up! Just choose a solid color t-shirt and jeans. And be prepared to defend the question why you like that particular color”
“Fine so the dress question is sorted out. What next?” I was still wondering how one could think, in such vivid detail about one silly date. But it seemed Atul had, so I played along.
“Next, what coffee are you going to order?”
“Black, the usual. Now don’t tell me even that have severe ramifications”
“The entire dumbness god created, he put it in you!” Atul said with mock desperation. “Never, ever order black coffee in front of a girl. You might think it’s very masculine, but she’ll think you like to drink shit. Order something cold, with lots of cream and chocolate; for both of you. Always order what she’s ordering. Remember, all girls like chocolate”
“All girls like chocolate… all girls like chocolate.. Okay, that is pretty easy to remember” I said.
“Okay, so clothes and drink can now be ticked off from the check list. Oh yes, another important tip, talk to her face, not her…”
“For god’s sake Atul, shut up. I’m an adult. Okay! I understand basic etiquettes. And now if you’re over with your tips, I think we have a lecture to attend” I said, with some ferocity.
Actually the whole idea appalled me. Why should I think of all that stuff before meeting a girl? I mean, why can’t I just be myself? Why all the pretending? Agreed that I am a bit nervous and for once, I think it matters to me what she thinks of me, but still I want her to see me, as I am, not some frustrated maniac who would act the way she wants! If she likes it, okay, if not, her problem! Not mine!
I shambled along Atul to the classroom. Another somnolent lecture! God, why did I choose to study engineering??

“Hi! Sorry I’m late. But I guess girls can afford to be a bit late, we have a reputation to consider” she says as she takes the chair right in front of me. I had thought previously that I’d stand up and pull the chair up for her but somehow I forget. I forget too many things. She’s wearing a white salwar suit, her hair, straight, caressing her face. Her eyes, looking directly at me, oh.. Those dreamy deep eyes.
“Th.. That’s okay”. Why are the words getting all entangled in my vocal chords? Come on! clear your throat. I think to myself.
She takes a deep breath “Finally!” she says.
“Yeah! Finally”
“I was waiting for you to ask me out, but I think I’d have waited forever and that day would have never come. I gather you have some complex when it comes to talking to girls, am I right?”
Boy she’s direct.
“Not exactly, its just that, having seen what goes on in college, I have developed some kind of revulsion to the whole concept of asking girls out.”
This time the words come out easily, this is not that difficult.
“Neverthless we are here”
Why does she have to say the obvious? I get a fleeting memory of something about how humans talk frequently, some reference in a science fiction novel, but I decide against saying it.
“Yes, we are”
The waiter looms around. I hate it when the waiters do that at cafes; hanging around to take our orders, as if we would leave without having anything.
“I’ll have one espresso, black!” she declares, to my utter surprise. “you?”
“Th.. the same” I stumble.
Now how could she order a black coffee? This is completely out of line.
“What happened?” she asks, and I think the look of incredulity on my face could have made anyone ask that.
“No.. Nothing”
“Hey that’s a nice song they’re playing! I never thought these guys played songs like these. All I’ve heard at cafes is either that crazy boy band ‘BSB’ ”

Suddenly my attention is drawn towards the song. The Eagles are singing ‘Welcome to the hotel California, such a nice surprise..’ Well obviously it is a nice surprise that she likes the song.

“You like the song!” I speak more incredulously than questioningly.
“ Don’t you? I just love listening to The Eagles and Deep Purple. What music do you listen to?”
“I.. I listen to Pink floyd and metallica. In general I like classic rock” I say, but somehow my speech is not coherent with my thoughts. She’s one strange girl.
“ How long are we here?” she asks.
Now what kind of a question is that? Does she want to leave? Am I making her uncomfortable?
“ What do you mean?”
“I meant to ask are you in a hurry?”
“No, Why?”
“I heard you liked playing chess! I too fancy myself as a decent player. How about a game?”
I can only nod. She gets up to get the chessboard.
MY head seems to be full of cotton wool. Even god cannot take so any surprises at once, I’m only human. What the hell is happening? Am I dreaming? And in one crazy moment I decide to pinch myself and confirm my status.

“OUCH!!”
Heads turn to look at me.
“Ah!, so Mr. Dubey finally decided to come to the real world of Digital signal processing. Welcome! What happened? A bad dream” Sarcasm drips from Professor Gupta’s voice. I look around, bleary eyed and embaressed.
“S..Sorry sir!”
“Get out of the class. NOW!!”
I walk out, among laughs and mock snoring sounds; still numbed by the shocks I got in the dream.
I have’nt met her yet and my mind is already playing tricks! I wonder if girls possess some supernatural powers. Are they from another planet? On a mission to distract the boys?

300 : movie review

Two years ago, Troy set the standards for a good war movie. 300 is here to redefine those standards. Based on the graphic novel by Frank Miller, the movie is about how 300 Spartans driven by nationalism and the deep desire for freedom; take on a million strong Persian army. The story has its own connotation of the standard formula of love, patriotism, friendship and betrayal, but that does not make it another stereotypical movie. The movie stands out with its incredible special effects. The breathtaking sequences rivet you to the seats and the prodigious use of color and shade gives the viewer a surreal feeling of actually being on the battlefield, ‘feeling’ what the soldiers felt. The soundtrack is a delightful mix of metal and classical Arabic music giving it a mystic yet powerful sound.
Grerad Butler as King Loenadis gives every frame he is present in, a sense of immense power and Rodrigo Sentaro as the Persian king, a sense of mystic horror. The real strength of the movie are the dialogues, most of which have been picked as it is from the novel. The realism of the sets and the attention to detail makes it a treat to watch.
The movie has a lot to offer, don’t miss it.

V-Day

“Hey man, how do I look?”
Before me stood Ranjan, looking a bit cleaner and better dressed than usual; shaved and smelling strongly of deodorant. However, college brings to you the insatiable hunger for leg pulling, so I replied “A dumbass, as usual”
“You’re useless” he retorted and turned his questioning glance to Atul who was standing beside me.
“Cool, man. You are looking good. Just get that glob of gel off from your hair” he replied in an even tone.
“Oh! The gel” he said, retrieving the excess gel from his hair. “Thanks man!” and he walked away, with an unfamiliar gait. There was an unusual spring in his step, opposed to his regular shambling, shuffling walk.

“What the hell was that about?” I asked Atul. “Since when did Ranjan start looking so well after his toilet?”
“Since he decided to ask Nidhi out”.
“ Whaaaat?” I broke into fits of laughter. “Ranjan,…… asking….Nidhi out!! Joke of the year” “and when did he get this brainwave?” I still could not stop chuckling.
“Well, its 13th feb today”
“Duh! And how is that supposed to be an answer?”
“You’re slow are’nt you! Today is 13th feb, that means tomorrow is 14th feb, that means tomorrow is Valentine’s day. Is that sufficient for an answer?” Atul said, irritatingly stressing on every syllable. “You read Sherlock Holmes, and you still could not notice the signs? See the girls gathering in groups, giggling away more regularly than usual. See the sudden burst of color in the dresses both the sexes wear to college; it’s almost a fashion parade. Guys talking loudly about how great they are and stealing glances to make sure that the right ears are hearing it. The bustle in the canteen is an obvious give away. Come on man, wake up. Love is in the air.”
“Riiiiight. Valentine’s day!” I was mocking and satirical. He caught the tone.
“You are the only guy I know around here who responds to Valentine’s Day with such ‘enthusiasm,’” he stressed on enthusiasm.
“There is no love in the air, just dung in their heads. And I do not wish to associate petty days to something as eternal and pure as love”. I said with some vigor in my voice.
“All single men….”
“May hell take you now”. I cut him off, or I’d have to listen to his frustrating dictum that goes ‘All single men hate anything remotely associated with couples and the pleasures contained therein’. He thinks it’s a great quote, I maintain in all sincerity that it his way of telling me ‘I have a girlfriend and you have none’.
I have often tried to answer the question “Do I need a girlfriend?” and as soon as I ask this question to myself, I am redirected to a more fundamental question “What exactly is a girlfriend?” I have thought and thought, but I have not arrived to a satisfactory answer yet. Now in my view a girlfriend is exactly what the word tells, a girl who is your friend. Someone you can talk to and hang out with sometime, exchange opinions, share a few jokes; that is it. Just as you do it with some other guy who is your friend.
“Is it necessary to ask her out to coffee before you can start talking?”
“Is it mandatory that we talk for hours on phone?”
“Am I bound by an unwritten contract that I’m not supposed to talk much or go out with another girl?”
“Is it compulsory that we go on long drives and try to act romantic all the time?”
The point is that people confuse friendship with girls as love, something i’m unable to digest. As usual, I have more questions than I am able to answer. So I finally give up looking for a definition and here I am, confused.
Now this does not indicate that I cannot differentiate between friendship and love and that I do not understand what a crush is. It is only that my definitions do not fit the layman’s definition.
Getting back to Atul and me.
“ Why are you so sore about people having girlfriends?” Atul asked.
“Who says I’m sore? “ I retorted in a voice that almost betrayed me.
“Well, if you’re not sore, why are you so irritated?” He continued mocking me.
We had reached the canteen, and I was really getting irritated with this self-obsessed Mr. I have a girlfriend. Now Atul is a very good friend of mine, and debates are our favorite mode of conversation. Excitable, as I am, I started off, answering his question, a bit louder than usual.
“ I am not irritated nor am I sore about not having a girlfriend. The point is that all this mindless talk about Valentines Day and ‘loove’ is getting on my nerves. And to top it all, our immaculate bollywood has created a strange compulsion in the minds of students that ‘if we are in college, we need to hang out with the opposite sex’. So, everyone who walks into college; you,” “ and the guy there” I said pointing randomly “and the young lady there” I moved my pointing finger “all come to college thinking that this is a place where I’ll find my soul mate, and then there will be music and a happy ending to another Hindi movie. These people have diluted the whole concept of love. It is not just about having coffees or going on drives; it is about care, concern and understanding. And with the skewed perception of love, the great college crowd is also tarnishing friendship. Mind you, our country is not America where you go around kissing every girl and shagging like rabbits. Apart from this, the people who I think are in love become so impractical that I’m scared of falling in love. Now, I have nothing against being friends with girls or being in love with them. But be friends or lovers, because you want to, not because you should. Anyways, valentine’s day is such a shoddy copy of a western tradition, that I involuntarily hate it.”
“Bu….” Atul started saying something but I cut him off.
“ But if you think that people need to have a particular day to express themselves and act crazy, they can go ahead. Being practical, I’m okay with valentine’s day as long as it stays away from me”.
Mock applause broke out as I ended. Some of our friends had gathered and were listening to what I had been shouting about. The smiles showed that they found my genuine feelings comic. Anyways joining the joke, I too laughed.
As Atul and I sat to have our lunch, looking over my back, he said, “there she is!”
In one moment I whirled around, and in the same moment I decided not to whirl around resulting in an odd screeching of my chair that made everyone in the canteen turn and see.
Atul started laughing like mad.
A brief interlude here let Atul laugh while I tell you about ‘her’. You see, after all that I had said and keep on saying, I’m a guy. ‘She’ is my only genuine crush, Swati. Quoting Atul here “ Even after being the dumb chauvinist that you are, you picked the one single most beautiful girl in college”. I always say that looks are only 40/100 in my scale for a girl. A lot of other things count, but he starts rolling his eyes and the conversation ends there. In Swati’s case, the rest 60/100 come from her attitude, the things she does in college. Her hobbies are reading and music, same as mine. I found it all out without having talked to her once. Being bold and outspoken melts away when it comes to girls. Somehow, I cannot! Probably it is my non co-ed schooling, or the ‘no talking to girls’ scene at home. And to top it all, Atul keeps saying, half the college is after her; you do not stand a chance. Now it is not that I want a chance. I just find her interesting, and would have liked to talk to her sometime. But I never had the courage, or the deep urge to actually do that.
Atul had suddenly stopped laughing and was staring at something behind me. “She’s coming towards us”.
And before I could say what or why, she was standing right in front of me.
She smiled at Atul, turned to me and said “ Hi”.
Now let me tell you there are 7 distinct types of Hi’s that a girl uses. First is the ultimate girly ‘hii…..’ that they generally use when meeting others of their clan ( it is generally accompanied with squeals and flapping of hands like hens). Second is the normal ‘Hi’ almost similar to the only one type of Hi in the guys dictionary. The third is the love laced, toothy ‘Hi’ that is used when they meet their ‘declared’ boyfriend. Then there is the ‘Hey’, some uptown girls use, and sounds slightly snobbish. The fifth is “who the hell are you?” hi and the sixth is “don’t dare to talk to me you moron” type hi. But this Hi, which Swati used, was the seventh and the most dangerous type of Hi. It is the dreaded “ I know you have been looking at me for long but don’t have the guts to talk” type hi.
I forced my lips to a stupid smile and said ‘Hi’ (there is only one hi that boys use, they are more simple and practical than girls)
She smiled, carelessly cleared a strand of hair from her face and said “ Could I talk to you for a moment?” and looked at Atul.
He was out of his chair in a fraction of a second “Sure…”
She sat in the vacated chair. Smiled, looked down, then up. Her hand went to her hair again. She then took a deep breath “ I have been wanting to talk to you for long”
The number of thoughts that crossed my mind in that moment would require and entire book of description, thus I skip that part. I somehow found my voice and replied “ s..same here”
Nobody spoke for a second or two. I knew I had to speak. In one moment of supreme confidence I said “well why don’t we then get together sometime and talk? How about Saturday?” Yes, I had done it.
“Sure, give me a call. You have my number?”
“Yes” and having said that I realized, she might ask, how did you get my number. But she did not. She just smiled knowingly and left.

After all that I have said and all that has happened, I have no idea weather I like Valentines Day or not. Whatever it may be, it has interesting consequences.

Leaving you- my love

I thought of you as my eternal mate,
our lives, as if entwined by fate,
but they thought otherwise
said, being together wouldn’t be wise

I remember the first day we met,
the first kiss, my lips still wet,
if I knew the pain, of saying goodbye,
I’d rather be alone when I die

you listened when I talked
with those understanding eyes, that nod
and when I did not, you understood
said, “ do what you should”

you were with me in my fights
my only friend on those lonely nights
broken, bruised, when I thought I’d fall
your loving embrace made me forget all

and when I thought I was no good alive
your kiss brought me back to life
“what good would the world be without you” you said
“with you gone, I’d rather be dead”

all those ups and downs, in life’s stride
all but you left my side
in pain and happiness too
I knew I could count on you

that marble white body, those red hair,
your love, your care,
oh freshest morning dew
how could I dream of leaving you?

but when, life looks so good
ironically, “I do what I should”
I leave you

time made a devil of me
for I just did’nt leave you
I stubbed you, killed you
my love, my dear cigarette.

Eklavya- The royal guard: movie review

Eklavya was the tribal archer who gladly cut off his right hand’s thumb when his guru Dronacharya asked for it as his fee. Eklavya was acting in accordance to his dharma.
“Dharma is beyond debates, it is beyond questions; it just is”, Says Eklavya (Amithabh Bachhan) in the movie when he is faced with the choice of following his principles and killing his only blood relation.
Eklavya- The royal guard is a story of betrayal and love, of honor and revenge, so beautifully written and executed that Shakespeare turns in his grave, wishing he had written it. The movie is set in a post independence fief in Rajhasthan, where an old king tries to come to terms with democracy, where family feuds play foul and where honor justifies murder.
Saif Ali Khan plays Harshvardhan, the harrowed prince, bearer of a terrible secret, caught between responsibility and love. His acting is exemplary and adds to his ever growing list of impeccable performances. Jimmy Shergil shows us another side of his acting; he surprises with a beautiful villainous role.
The sets drip opulence, the action sequences add spice and innovative cinematography makes the movie a pleasure to watch. Even though the director has wasted the talents of a huge starcast, each performer does complete justice to his role.
Watch the movie, because it is different, because it represents the evolving Indian cinema and because it is GOOD.

Estranged

We sit together,
seperated

there are no words,
but my ears recoil at the denail

there are no expressions,
but the frost pierces my eyes

there are no gestures,
but it is the distance i feel

there are no sounds,
but she hears my silent shouts

all that remains,
are the painfully happy memories,
so grotesquely arranged

I sit there, alienated, ESTRANGED!

Parzania - review

The Godhra massacre and the carnage that followed was a big black blot on the country’s secular character. The movie brings to life , those horrifying incidents through the life of a Parsi family , who are involuntarily caught in between the fighting factions. It beautifully elucidates how social circles crumble , and religion becomes more important than life; when fanaticism replaces rationality and reason is clouded with revenge.

Corruption and government propaganda is openly exposed as Nasiruddin Shah and his wife Sarika, look for their missing son. An American looks for answers , while writing his thesis on Gandhi , and finds them , not in violence but in self correction and non-violence. A revenge seeking Muslim realizes that “an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind”.

The direction and the screenplay are very good and first class acting packs an additional punch to this emotionally disturbing movie. Hats off to the sound director and the editor who have made the movie as effective as it could have been . Do not watch this movie , just because it’s acclaimed and controversial , or the acting and the direction are very good. Watch it because it is trying desperately to drive home an important lesson everyone needs to learn in these tumultuous times.

GURU: review

This movie is a sure sign of the rapidly evolving India n film industry. Mani Ratnam has picked up an intriguing storyline and , in his characteristic manner , made it into another interesting movie.
Gurukant Desai (Abhishek Bachhan) hails from a small gujrati village , but that is the only small thing in his otherwise gigantic personality. Armed with dreams , he makes his way through the dense jungle of businessmen , who make no secret of the fact that they don’t want him there. Achieving one milestone after the other , riding on the wave of wit and acumen , the juggernaut is unstoppable. His insolence and disdain of authority is almost contagious.
The director creates a perfect 1950s Bombay , complete with Vintage cars and ancient telephones. The dialogues are beautifully written , with Abhishek getting the best lines at the best moments (seems a bit unnatural sometimes). But in all Abhishek Bachhan has done justice to his ‘Sarkar’ fame and his acting stands out as extraordinary. Aishwarya Rai too , for a change , has come up beautifully as the strong and supporting wife of an iconoclast business tycoon on the fast track to success and fame. Mithun Chakraborty also plays an interesting part , and does it with panache.
The A.R Rehman music is good , but the songs seem to be misplaced and have a tendency to stall the movie than usher it forward.
The movie seems an odd mixture of The Fountainhead and Citizen Kane, and at times the ‘good-good’ story fails to make sense. Nevertheless , watch it for beautiful direction and great acting and to learn how a small timer can make it big.

Casino Royale: review

Bond is back, with his characteristic charisma and the license to kill. Daniel Craig fills the place vacated by the impeccable Brosnan, and held earlier by biggies like Shean Connery and Roger Moore, and he does justice to this coveted throne, in style.
Based on the first Bond novel by Ian Fleming, it portrays a novice Bond, who has recently achieved his ‘double o’ status, but is yet to gain his cold blooded, emotionally disconnected self.
Take away the fancy gadgets and their father Q, exit sexy sirens; do we still get a great Bond movie? Yes, we do.
Judy Dench, plays M for the sixth time, acting as chaperone to the beginner bond, as he combs the globe in search of an international terrorist gang. From Uganda to the Bahamas, our valiant hero follows cold leads, shoots the bull’s eye and exchanges fisticuffs. Repeat; no gadgets to pull him out of nasty situations. The series of events culminates to a high stakes poker game at Casino Royale, so brush up your poker playing skills to follow Bond, as he beats a mathematical prodigy at his own game.
Eva Green plays Vesper Lynd, the treasury attaché with whom, Bond uncharacteristically falls in love.
With some beautifully written dialogues and great acting, this movie scores full marks, a deserving feather in the James Bond saga.

The Ig-Nobel Prizes

An article i wrote for the PT magzine

You are a researcher, but conventional research does not turn you on. Don’t worry, if you’re interested in explaining ‘why woodpeckers don’t get a headache’ or you wish to write the equations of motion of the hula hoop, you still get a prize, not the Nobel, but the Ig-Nobel.
These prizes, instituted in 1991, are given out by the scientific humor journal Annals of Improbable Research (AIR) for ten achievements that "first make people laugh, and then make them think."
Originally concieved as a parody of the Nobel prizes, these prizes are given out by Nobel laurets, for genuine research in whacky areas. To give you a taste of the types of ‘research’ that wins an Ig-Nobel prize, here is a list of some recent winners:
PEACE: Howard Stapleton of Merthyr Tydfil, Wales, for inventing an electromechanical teenager repellant -- a device that makes annoying noise designed to be audible to teenagers but not to adults.

MATHEMATICS: Nic Svenson and Piers Barnes of the Australian Commonwealth Scientific and Research Organization, for calculating the number of photographs you must take to (almost) ensure that nobody in a group photo will have their eyes closed.

PHYSICS: Basile Audoly and Sebastien Neukirch of the Université Pierre et Marie Curie, in Paris, for their insights into why, when you bend dry spaghetti, it often breaks into more than two pieces.

The prize ceremony takes place at Harvard every year, around the same time as the Nobel prize ceremony, and is marked by numerous comic antics. The ceremony traditionally closes with the following words: "If you didn't win a prize - and especially if you did - better luck next year!"

So, if you have a crazy research opening, an eye for the comic aspect of science, there are the Ig-Nobel Prizes for you.

Falling in Love

Has it never struck to you as strange, this expression ‘falling in love’?? I mean, I have never heard people saying, “I walked in love”, or “I feel love” or anything that does not imply blunder! Looking at the word “fall”, we know it is something you do when you do not know the path properly, and hence stumble on an obstacle and “fall”.
Do we not know love? Then why do people keep falling in love? To me the word fall is a bit intimidating. Whenever I’ve tried to analyze rationally, the word love, I always end up wondering about this particular ‘fall’ that everyone encounters.
All feedback I’ve had from people, who have ‘fallen’ in love always points that it is something that is out of their control, something that somehow happened to them, and they were not prepared for it. It is only after ‘falling’ in love that people suddenly realize the horror which is veiled as long as you are the envious observer.
I guess that what people say about love is true. Because only when you are oblivious to the fact that there is this big pit right in front of you, are you able to fall in it, in my case, I see the pit too clearly, and hence………..
How does it feel, to fall in love? I ask everyone who has had the good fortune of falling in it. “ohh, it’s lovely” “it’s beautiful”. To my unpracticed ears, this is funny, partly because here, we are talking about a ‘fall’ and people are enjoying it. Is the pit called love, lined by velvet? “Yes” is the unanimous answer, and suddenly I feel the urge to take a plunge, but as I said, you cannot ‘fall’ if you know that there is a pit, you can only jump, but no one has heard of “jumping in love”. Have you?
One way is that I close my eyes, and pretend that I do not know there is a pit, be a complete ignoramus and ‘fall’ but I guess that’ll be cheating.
Man, how did I come to know of this pit, not everybody did, and they are falling happily, again and again, and here I am, standing on the edge, listening to cries of joy, coming from within, and wondering, why do I think so much??

“So you see it too”.
I turned, surprised. Because, one it was a female voice, and two, I thought I was the only one who knew about the pit, all others were just merrily coming down the road, and falling.
“Yes. And that is the problem”. I replied.
“This means you cannot fall in it”.
“Wow. A chick who thinks, and understands”. I thought aloud.
“I can say the same about guys. Not all chicks are dumb”
“But. But that’s impossible… I mean…. cool. ”
She walked towards me. I could not do anything but admire her. Those piercing eyes, the lone strand of black hair that fell across her face; she was beautiful, and for once, I mean the word ‘beautiful’. But my insufferable thought process said ‘this is seemingly irrational’
“Rationale and love do not go together” She read my thoughts.
“I like guys who can think” She moved a step closer. I could smell her scent, and I was suddenly giddy.
“You.. yyou do” I couldn’t speak. She moved closer.
I wanted her. In one freak moment of thought, I banished all rationale, I wanted her to be mine, and I wanted the world to end, so that no one could lay any claim on her.
She was closer than ever, and I involuntarily took a step back, to place my foot on ‘nothing’. I lost my balance and caught her hand for support. In a frozen moment of time I see myself toppling over the edge of the pit, falling, my hand holding hers.
I ask her breathlessly “who are you?”
“I’m Aphroditis”
And I knew.

The Integrator

“ Vijayanagar??”
“Jaayegi !!”
And so I step into, or rather hang on to the gate of an overcrowded bus. It takes some time to gouge out standing space for oneself. Having done that you can heave a sigh of relief and congratulate yourself on being successfully accepted into this box full of bodies, and have a look at the other passengers (bodies) around you. Each face reflects the day it has seen, weary faces of office goers, tired faces of students; having sat through hours of grueling lectures, exhausted faces of day laborers, blank faces of drunks, curious faces of those new to the city, smug ones of those who’ve been here long, twisted faces of crying children, innocent ones of those too old to cry. Every tone of emotion, reflected so openly, it makes you think.
“Ticket!”
I fumble with the change and grab the pink token in my sweaty hand. The conductor moves to a pudgy man, with well oiled hair, sporting Ray-Ban sunglasses, clad in an impeccably white kurta- pyjama, with a tri-colored dupatta draped around his neck. His sharp moustache shows 10:10 on his face. He sits there with an uncomfortably complacent aura around him.
“Ticket sir!!”
Where did that ‘sir’ come from? It wasn’t there in my case. I look down; I’m dressed in a decent shirt-pant with a tie, why was the ‘sir’ missing then? I guess it must have been the aura.
“ Humara naam Munnalal Yadav hai”
Now, what kind of an answer is that? When asked for a ticket you pay for it, or show your pass, or in the worst case you show your incapability of paying the fare, in any case your name has nothing to do with the ticket.
But somehow it turned out to be the right answer. How much would the ticket cost? 3 rupees – 4! But this neta, as we call them, found it beneath his dignity to pay for the ticket.
Seated next to him is an old villager, a complete contrast to his co-passenger. The wrinkles on his face speak of the hard days he has seen. He wears a dusty dhoti and a worn off shirt, and a fluorescent turban which strikes a remarkable contrast with his otherwise morose attire.
“ Dewas naake ka kitta lagega?”
“4 rupiye”
The expression this answer brought on that man’s face is something I won’t forget in a hurry. The sudden pain in those eyes, the mental calculations he made, the things he thought he will have to compromise. He then opened a knot at the end of his dhoti, interrupted by the conductors’ irritated “ jaldi karo baba” . The open knot revealed some coins and a 10 rupee note folded and folded again. I somehow could not look anymore and I turned to look in another direction.

A bai, had just occupied an empty seat beside a teenage girl. The girl immediately reacted by shrinking in a corner of her seat, visibly uncomfortable. We very enthusiastically talk about how the youth is forgetting the whole ‘untouchable’ dogma and moving on. But I think I’m getting this all wrong, it has nothing to do with the untouchable idea, it’s almost an involuntary act, and even I would have done it had I been in her place. How exactly this has come into out behavioral pattern I do not know. As the bus jumps a few potholes, and drones on, the girl loses the initial reserve and is now sitting normally, not trying to shrink away.

I hear snatches of conversation
“ this time the juniors have lost it. I’ll slap them one by one tomorrow. Fucking bunch, what do they think…..” and he guffaws .

“ Haan, haan….. ho jaayega sir. Nahi. …haan.. abhi bus mein hoon….. Thik hai….. Par woh bola 5000 toh dene padenge kam se kam. .. haan sir…” some contractor is shouting on his phone.

“jai ram….jai ram….jai ram….jai ram….” the old man’s lips move, almost soundlessly, his hands fumble with the rosary.

“ tum bhi, koi kaam thik se nahi karti ho… abhi ghar jaake jaldi se khana bana dena, kal office mein bade saab aa rahe hai, jaldi jaana padega…” a man scolds his wife.

“papa… papa… mai toh darwaje pe khada hoon…” a child shouts, at which his flabbergasted father jumps to grab him and pull him into the insides of the bus and scolds him, not entirely angry.

A man smokes a bidi, though several notices prohibit him to. But I guess he cannot read, and nobody around him says anything, some make a face.

The conversations and the engine noise mingle into a monotonous hum. I feel like I’m in a trance. I’m seeing a lot of things and thinking.
I feel as if I’m breaching a private domain of all these people. I am not meant to hear what they are saying, or am I?
What a thing these public transports are, they bring together the widest variety of humans, and with this thought I stick a recent word I learnt at college, INTEGRATOR.

Nationalism: A discussion

This is a discussion I had with a good friend of mine about nationalism. Some interesting points were raised, and discussed.

Vinod:
As you wished me -- Have a Proud Independence Day! Although, I derive little or no pride in such organized nationalism.

Me:
It's not the organized nationalism that I wanted you to appreciate, but nationalism itself. It is sad that most people feel this spirit only momentarily, that too on incorrectly called national 'holidays'. It should be national 'festivals'. Went to school today. I like it a lot to see all those children singing the national anthem, even though they may not feel the depth of it, or may deliberately avoid it. But in that moment of chorus (forced it may be) I derive my pleasure.

Vinod:
You will perhaps find it sadder that one of your good friends does not appreciate nationalism in any form. In fact, I have trouble understanding the concept of nationalism itself, at least in the Indian context. What exactly is a nation? What exactly is the Indian nation? And even if you can satisfactorily define those two, why should I swear my allegiance to any nation? There are the questions that elude and trouble me. What exactly is deep about the national anthem? Why exactly do you feel pleasure when you hear people sing it? One possible reason is that you see people united for a common cause in all this. I have seen that only in films and yes, it does give me the Goosebumps. However, when it comes to nationalism -- what exactly is it that we are or should be united for? And if you are talking about national identity, I firmly believe that India has none.

Me:
I'll start by answering the questions first. A nation is not the political boundaries. It is the culture you relate yourself to. The Indian nation is the geographical region that is inhabited by people who share a common thread of religion, language or culture. The diversity is of course there but still there is something that you can find common in all the people. And now as to why you should pledge allegiance to the nation is because you're in her debt. The person you are, the social standing you have, the facilities you avail of, the moral code you follow, and the directions your thoughts take, all come finally from the country. I'll tell you how. The culture that brought you up, decided what you think and how you think, agreeably you'll say that you are an independent thinker and say that all that you think and do is inspired from a lot of factors that are non-Indian. But still it's your decision of right and wrong, the choice of what to do and what not to do finally comes from the code of conduct you have derived form the culture.

Vinod:
So you say that a nation is the culture that you can relate to. True. That is how most nations have been defined. However, you must also accept that while the concept of a nation evolved naturally in Europe, it was almost forced upon the Indian subcontinent. Thus, in Europe you find nations with fairly uniform cultures and languages and in India you find a forcibly put together assortment of peoples who find it really hard to relate to each other. If you need a first hand experience of this talk sometime to Shashank about Chennai. The trouble that man has in adapting to the Tamil culture is phenomenal. Still, you say that there is a common thread running through the Indian people. Indeed, entire volumes have been written to prove this. Take for example Nehru's, Discovery of India or Amartya Sen's, The Argumentative Indian. The fact that such long texts are needed to 'define' India proves, in the least, that it is difficult to define the Indian nation. Anyhow, whether India is a nation or not is rather irrelevant to my anti-nationalistic feelings.You say that I should pledge allegiance to my nation since I'm in her debt. I fail to understand how this is so. A. The nation has not purposefully provided me for my various needs. The nation is not a conscious being B. I never asked for it. I never asked for myself to be born. In essence this whole 'debt' has been forced on me. I was never consulted in whether I wanted to accept it or not. It is as if you catch a beggar from roadside. Give him a million bucks without his asking for them. Force him into becoming a successful millionaire and then say that you are in my debt. The poor fellow never asked you to do it! Thus, I do not see it as a debt.Even if you do see it as a debt, how do you resolve the fact that the education that you are so proud of comes largely from outside the country. The culture that you so proudly inherit is a product of thousands of years of history none of which even mentions "India' since India wasn't invented then. Why then do you feel indebted to this particular political and cultural unit? And since you emphasized so much on culture, the entire subcontinent, including China, Afghanistan, and the south East Asian countries can be seen as one cultural unit. Why should I not swear my allegiance to all of them then?

Me:
Fine, it was not your choice, being born, but then nobody has that choice. But once born, you were asking for debts, they were not pushed to you forcefully. You wanted food, you wanted shelter, security. Your parents wanted education for you, a ‘settled’ future. And how was all that taken care of? Because of the country you were born in. Okay it was your hard work that brought the money, but the fact that you are able to earn money in return for work was ensured by the country. This hard work would have been no good, had you been born in Somalia. And this may be broadened to include your ability to buy. You are able to get products worth your money, because the country ensures so.
Agreeably, the Indian nation was formed in the most dynamic circumstances and a lot of different cultures were forced together. But once together, they learnt to coexist. No doubt everyone asserts the unique existence of his culture but they still are voluntarily Indian.
Getting to the factor of political boundaries, that is more of an unwritten rule that the area I’m able to control is mine and I can take as much economic advantage of that area as I fancy. The fact that our country spans such a large area is of germane interest to us, because that will ensure we get food and other things.
And I think I should define nationalism here. It obviously does not entail joining the army and hating Pakistan. It involves a feeling of pride in the culture you belong to, in the heritage you’re an heir to and faith in a fund you’re investing in.

Vinod:
Even assuming that all the things you said in paragraph 1 are reasonable (although I still have trouble subscribing to the concept of debt) why only nationalism? Why not a monarchy? Why not just familial bonding? Why should one subscribe to the concept of nation?Then, coming back to the question of debt. Since nobody has any choice in the matter of birth and birth is, in a manner of speaking, 'forced' on the individual by his parents. Once the parents bring an individual to life it is their *duty* to fulfill his needs. They are not obliging the child by being good parents. If they did not want to be good parents they had no right to bring the child to life. To extend the concept further, if a society or 'nation' is bringing a new life to earth, it is its *duty* to see to the needs of that individual. The nation is only fulfilling it's *duty* I don't see any debt involved. Second, once born the child has not idea that he is asking for debt (according to you). The very concept does not exist in the child's mind. How then does the question of debt arise? When you feed a pet in your house, will you say that it’s under your debt? If you take a pet in, it is your duty to feed it. Otherwise don't take it in. If I were ever to define a nation, I'd define it as a group of mutually cooperative individuals who are cooperating because they believe that together they can grow more than if they were fending for themselves.You assertion, that all people of India are voluntarily Indian, is questionable. I don't think majority of the populace had any say in the matter. Colonial decisions were largely taken in bureaucratic offices.Surprisingly, you give a very agreeable definition of nationalism yet bottle it in a package that is totally loathsome. What is this debt crap? Yes, I am proud of my culture and the more I travel across the country (the recent Hyderabad trip for instance) the more I fall into love with it. I get Goosebumps when I realize how people so diverse can live in such harmony. No region is truer to the nature of humanity than the Indian subcontinent with its diversely textured culture.Yet, why I should restrict what I claim to be mine within the name 'Indian' is beyond me. I find the Chinese or the African to be as fascinating as I find my own people. My own people are special only because I understand them way better. I wish to claim the entire universe as mine.

Me:
Well since we started of this discussion with the idea that you did not subscribe to the idea of nationalism, I switched into this debt mode. I use this explanation for the worst cases. But now I know you are not a 'worst case', so I’ll talk of more tangible aspects.You very correctly defined the idea of a nation as a cooperative, and everyone works for that cooperative because everyone identifies the fact that each one of them will grow, if they work together. It is the feeling of loyalty for this cooperative, the urge to do things for its well being is what I define as nationalism.Most parents are responsible and they fulfill their duties. But many do not. It is not right to bring life, if you are not able to care for it, but then are all people righteous?Fine the nation is fulfilling its duty, but are you? I cannot just leave my parents one fine day, and say that you performed your duty well. I too am supposed to perform *my part of the duty*. In the case of our family we perform our duty by reciprocating the love, by ensuring their material and moral comfort. In the case of the nation, I respect it for what it did for me, I work for its well being, and this is nationalism.Yes, I understand the feeling, one gets when one encounters different cultures, and their seamless intermingling. It comes to us because it is basically an opportunity to *understand*. It is something we're trying to do, voluntarily or involuntarily, to learn, to understand.Colonial decisions were taken in bureaucratic offices, and most people did not have a direct say that, but someone must decide for the masses that apparently are not all that intelligent to decide for them. Someone has to initiate the formation of a cooperative.

Pyaar ke side effects: review

If you thought Bollywood could only produce cliched love stories, think again. There are some directors, like Saket Choudhary, bent on proving you wrong. The story indeed is passe, with the girl eager to marry and the boy dubious about commitment, but the wrapping is new and delightful.
The perfectionist Rahul Bose teams up with the whistling crowd's favorite Mallika Sherawat in an uncanny but well oiled duo. The movie takes you through the ups and downs of a relationship in a novel way, with special stress on the "side effects".
All boys get ready to say "I love you" a hundred times a day, and sit through long shopping hours, and the girls, be ready to have boys with short attention spans, ready to have all but responsibility. The subtleties of a regular relationship are brought out so beautifully; that for once you realize love might have so many 'side effects'. The humor is witty, the acting decent, the narration gentle and the flow smooth. No fancy locations, no long love songs, its a nice watch in an otherwise boring collection of movies released this week.

The fashion of 9/11

The anniversary of terrorist attacks on the World Trade centre came and went, with a few tears shed, and some flower wreaths, but a lot of talk. Now I must clarify here that I myself was deeply moved by the horrifying act of terrorism, and I condemn it wholeheartedly.
I got a lot of mails, with messages like, ‘let us remember the dead of 9/11 and vow that their sacrifice shall not go waste’, and ‘we stand united against terror’. And this one was priceless ‘America has been hurt once, and the wounded tiger roars, they’ll wipe off terrorism from the world. We are together in the fight against terrorism’.
What struck me was that the same people (who talk loudly of terrorism and 9/11) very conveniently forget the annual Flag Day, and might have a faint memory of the recent bombings of Mumbai local trains. Black Friday might not even ring a bell. I’d quote a bit misplaced but appropriate Hindi saying ‘ Ghar ki murgi dal barabar’, what we have at home has no value!! Why is it that 9/11 has had such an impact on our minds, than the frequent attacks we’ve faced, which affect our daily lives much more directly and profoundly? I guess the answer lies in the fact that America has very successfully ‘advertised’ it’s agony, while we have been the ones who are tormented, but silent. All of us read with rapt attention, about the proposed reconstruction of WTC, how many of us question whether a memorial for the Bombay blast victims exists or not?
A consumerist mindset, which we are a part of, dictates, ‘buy what seems best’, and the best is what is advertised best. Just because news at home is not as ‘in’ as the news in America, all the ostentatious intellectuals want to talk of 9/11. A pretty catchy term ‘9/11’, isn’t it? Well, it’s just a part of an organized sympathy gaining campaign, with which America wished to justify its acts in Afghanistan, and Iraq.
Our enthusiastic talk of 9/11 is a part of a bigger infatuation with all things American. Wake up, men and women of my motherland. I do not implore you to talk of a Indian problem, and stop talking of 9/11. I request you to take off those ‘Made in USA’ sunglasses, they are tinted and skewed. Moreover, I hope you do not just talk, but act as well.