The music at the temple

If you think I’m referring to the deafening parody bhajans, or the cruel shloka recitations; breathe easy, I’m not.

I’ve been to a temple many times, with varying feelings- right from excessive devotion to complete detachment. But it was only yesterday that I completely felt the intensity of music generated by the aarti. It beats any concert I’ve attended and all the music I’ve ever heard.

It all starts with a mild roll of drums, like a distant thunder of clouds- a deep growl. The crowd suddenly falls silent. It is amazing to see the complete transformation from a noisy chaotic bunch to a congregation of silent monks. The pin-drop silence is broken by the small tinkle of a brass bell. The lights are dimmed and a multi flame diya is lit. In the darkness, the tinkle continues as the head pundit starts swaying the multiple flames in front of the deity. The tinkle is then drowned in the loud tic-tacking of a damru. Tick-tack tick tack it goes till the pundit starts the chanting. The chanting is audible only as a loud murmur as the other pundits join in the singing.

It is at this precise moment, the cymbals meet with a loud clang, and the drums roll. But they do not sound distant this time, nor do they stop. As if on cue, the brass bells start ringing, stuck by eager hands. Thus starts the symphony: the drums, the bells, the cymbals and the damru, all playing within a five meter radius of where I am standing. Each of the devotees starts clapping in sync with the beat.

It’s a weird experience. The sound is intense, and each beat thumps on your chest as if hit by a battering ram. My ears are ringing, reeling under the thumps of the loud sound, my hands hurt as I clap fast and hard, but I do not feel irritated. The atmosphere is electric.

10 minutes into this aural extravaganza, someone blows into a conch; and a loud howl is heard over all the beating of the drums. A number of wind instruments follow, each with it’s own characteristic sound. This is another cue and the drums are beat faster, the tempo rises. The bell-men are relieved by a new team of devotees and the tempo rises further. The chanting becomes louder and the people start swaying. Faster and faster it gets. The roar of the drums is now deafening, and each sound blast hits you with ever increasing intensity. Just as you think that any louder would tear away your eardrums, a very large tom-tom that I had not noticed earlier, starts to sound. The conch calls out shrilly once more and then everything is silent.

In one moment the sound is gone. Though my ears are still ringing, the vibrations have all died out. The lone voice of the pujari can be heard as he chants ‘Om, shanti shanti shantihi.’

Taare Zameen Par

With Aamir Khan, the expectations are always high. Looking at the kind of off-beat, perfectionist movies he’s been making, Taare Zameen Par comes as a disappointment; not because the movie is bad, but because it’s too ordinary. A movie, cannibalized by its own exceeded expectation.

Read my full review here

The Flight that was not

Hello my angel, it’s been a long time

Your halo is gone, what happened to your wings?

Don’t say they found you in the devil’s bed

White lace all torn, his hands still red

Did you succumb to hell’s desire?

Did love pull you into the mire?

Did you not see the falsehood of these things?

Oh! My angel what happened to your wings?

Don’t say you took the Icarian flight

To the chimeral sun, in search of light

Did you not know your wings were wax?

Did you not leave blood in your tracks?

Had you not committed enough sins?

Oh! My angel what happened to your wings?

Don’t say that you placed a bet,

In a game, with rules he had set.

To his tune did you dance?

My love you never had a chance

He sat on the corpse blowing smoke rings

Oh! My angel what happened to your wings?

Wait, I think I know what happened

They could’nt bear that you could fly

High above them, into the blue sky

So they hacked them off and burned them

So you could be one of them

And my broken heart still sings

Oh! My angel they took your wings

पोहा और जलेबी

हिन्दी माय लिखने कि खुजाल कुछ इस तरह मिटी है। कुछ सह लेखकों कि ज़रूरत है।
पढिये और कमेंट करिये।

The Towel and metrosexuality!

This post is in a way, a response to two articles on similar lines here (by vinod) and here.

The question is weather the extensive show of skin is appropriate or not. This can be answered in two ways; in terms of it’s acceptability by the audience and in terms of the requirement of this nudity to depict the character of Raj.

Screen nudity, by actresses is not new to Bollywood. On the contrary, male skin show makes a lot of females uncomfortable (or atleast they claim to be). Moreover, the so called male nudity, till now has been to represent the male aggressiveness and to emphasize on the macho character; this display as a part of making the character’s image sensual is quite new. Now as far as the social acceptability is concerned; we’re a society where gender equations are hard set, thus a liberating metrosexual man, who has no issues accepting his sensual side will not go down well with most of the people. I do not think that there are many people who’d agree that something called ‘male sensuality’ even exists.
In our society the male is still the stoic, self-denying, modest straight guy who doesn’t shop enough for himself. His role is to earn money for his wife to spend. Though that image is being rapidly redefined, it’ll still take time for the ‘metrosexual’ in the true sense of its definition, to become acceptable to the majority audience.

So how is metrosexuality defined? Wikipedia says:

The typical metrosexual is a young man with money to spend, living in or within easy reach of a metropolis – because that's where all the best shops, clubs, gyms and hairdressers are. He might be officially gay, straight or bisexual, but this is utterly immaterial because he has clearly taken himself as his own love object and pleasure as his sexual preference. Particular professions, such as modeling, waiting tables, media, pop music and, nowadays, sport, seem to attract them but, truth be told, like male vanity products and herpes, they're pretty much everywhere.

This brings me to the answer of the second part of the question. Weather the nudity was a required facet of Raj’s character. Now since this guy has been depicted as someone who lives in his dream world, his actions driven by impulse and carrying a certain childish demeanor. Thus it might be concluded that he’s not the one who’d pay much attention to his looks. Moreover he’s not that rich guy who has got a lot of money to spend on himself. Thus this depiction is unnecessary. Had he been the rag clad Tom Sawyer, who pined for a good dress for the occasion of meeting his loved one, it would have gone down with the audience better.

In an essay by Mr. Mark Simpson, I came across a very disturbing aspect of metrosexuality. He says “ The metrosexual is a new kind of man, one less certain of his identity and much more interested in his image – that's to say, one who was much more interested in being looked at (because that's the only way you can be certain you actually exist).”
Since metrosexuality is on the rise in India, and is gradually being accepted as the next step to modernization. Being a man, I am forced to question that are we losing our identities? Is the desire to be looked at the only way we can assert our own existence?

Saanvariya: Review

Staying with his stylistic sets, elaborate costumes and highly symbolic representations, Sanjay Leela Bhansali brings to the silver screen, another piece of art.

Saanwariya, to most of the viewers would be an over-the-top, completely senseless love story. But if you are ready to accept exaggerations, illogical twists (come on it’s a love story after all), only then will you be able to appreciate the finer points of the movie; the usage of colour, the style of presentation and the delicate artistry that the director has executed almost flawlessly.

Shot in shades of blue; indigo specifically, the movie seems like a drift over from Picasso’s blue period. But the colour is not just blue, the feel of the story changes the colour; the frames are green on Eid, the hero wears red when he’s in love and the heroine is clad in the black of indecision and unfulfilled love. The effective use of blown out of proportion stereotypes actually gives the movie a theatrical feel. The elegant cinematography does justice to the artistically designed sets. In short, the movie is really really good to look at.
The debutant pair, Ranbir and Sonam Kapoor exceeds expectations. Ranbir is the loveable poster boy, delivering his lines with panache and a contagious elation. Sonam too is a delight to watch and so is her acting. Rani, overflowing with her experience, seems to be falling into the habit of playing the prostitute; but every time she does it better than the last time. Special accolades to Zorya Sehgal, she adds the dash of young acting, and it’d be a crime if I added ‘at this age too’.

Don’t ask why it rains and snows at the same time, or why the whole city looks like a painting, or why sonam falls in love with a man the age of his dad. Just flow with the poetry and you’ll enjoy the movie.

The Bourne Ultimatum: review

Even the most fierce action movies can be the most insipid. I make this statement after watching the widely acclaimed, hotly awaited culmination of the Bourne series: The Bourne Ultimatum.

There’s a big conspiracy inside the greatest intelligence agency of thrillerland, the white collared heads are actually the masked evil men; the patriot runs, hunted…using the skills he was trained to use against his masters this time, he is looking for redemption, his long lost love….... he wins, the bad guys go to jail. That’s the story in it’s infinite detail including all the plot twists and turns. Execute the story in about 20 reels and you have one of the most boring thrillers released this year.

Fine, there is Matt Damon who does justice to his role, acts well, makes the right faces at the right times but sadly it fails to click. The director’s coveted thrill does not precipitate to the audience, no matter how well Jason (Matt) fights, shoots or makes love.

But it’s not all bad; there are a few sequences that are well shot, especially in Morocco; that make up for the badly executed story. The general feel of the movie has sunk some really good acting by Joan Allen and David Startharin.
In all the movie is not worth spending a hundred bucks. 20 would do just fine for the DVD rent, and that too only when you’ve seen the first two movies of the series.

No Smoking : review

I’d been putting off writing this review for over a fortnight now; primarily because I wanted to do justice it.

It’s been after a long time that I saw a movie that can be called weird in a very positive sense of the word. The most striking thing about the movie was the revelation that some directors, like Anurag Kahsyap are actively discovering and executing movie making techniques that rely on more than just dialogues, songs and sets. The subtle but profound references to known works in literature, the extensive symbolism and active use of the properties of the medium, like color and frame sequencing, are definitive indicators of a rapidly evolving bollywood. Though most of this exquisiteness completely eluded a majority of audience and critics as well, who flogged the movie bloody; I’d call it a martyr for a cause rather than a flop.

Starring John Abraham as K ( yes, the reference is to K in Kafka’s Castle), Aisha Takia in a stupendous double role as K’s wife and his secretary, Paresh Rawal as baba guru ghantaal, ranvir shourie as K’s devious friend; the movie with a story content of a 15 minute documentary, runs for an intriguing 2 hours.

John, in one of his best roles yet, scintillates with an unexpectedly natural performance. The ‘it’s my life’ character actually grows on him and for the first time you see him sporting an expressive face, which is bossy, frustrated, bewildered and scared... whatever the script says. The reason why Aisha Takia was chosen for a role…correction.. a double role is a closely guarded secret, which Kashyap claims, will go with him to his grave. She’s the single oddity in the whole cast who can be tagged weird in the actual sense of the word. Paresh Rawal has reinstated his position in my great actors list with an exceptional performance. He and his entrouge, or should I say menagerie, evoke the laughter and at the same time plants fears into your deepest vaults.
Kashyap has been witty, and smart; but after a few reels, his tongue-in-cheek way becomes irritating rather than humorous. Nevertheless, what he does is more than you can expect from Indian cinema for another decade. Vishal Bhardwaj’s music fits well with the mood of the film and Rajiv Ravi’s cinematography stumps you.

The dialogues could have been better and a few choice cuts in the reel could have made it go down better with the crowds, but I guess they were left there for a purpose.

All those who are on the lookout for intrigue and novelty, it’s a must watch. The Jab we met crowd better say at home; you’ve been warned.

Dil Dosti etc. - review

One thing is for sure, the answer to love, sex and everything is not 42!

The one word I can come up with, that completely explains how I feel about the movie, is ‘Intriguing’. The movie is not about telling something in 3 hours and concluding it. It is more like, telling a lot of stuff in just 3 hours and leaving you to think and think and think.

There is a clash of ideals, a bouquet of personalities, some emotions and a lot of intrigue. For once, it seems that the story is getting nowhere, and the movie should have been called ‘a week in the life of a Delhi university boy’, but as one reel feeds into another, the story starts clearing up, and your head begins to muddle.

There is Shreyas Talpade as Sanjay Mishra, the Bihari guy who has a set of fixed ideals and thinks of love to be pure and divine; but this does not essentially make him a puritan. Imaad Shah, as the rich and confused Apurv, who does not think of love, he does not think of sex; he does it; apparently he has no ideals, but by the end of the movie, you’re not too sure. Then there is Kintu (Ishitaa Sharma), the very natural school-girl who knows the rights and wrongs of life, or atleast she thinks so; Prerna(Nikita Anand), the very normal girlfriend, and Vaishali(Smriti Mishra) the prostitute; All of them adding numerous dimensions to the one single question of love, sex and everything. Or dil dosti etc. as the director would like to put it.

Sanjay Tiwari turns a very strange script ( if I may call it that) into what one might call, an excellent movie. Produced by Prakash Jha, who is famed with making ‘real’ films, this one is real indeed. Excellent camera work and an almost perfect execution of scenes make the movie a pleasure to watch, the story just flows. But I won’t extend the accolades to the music, which is pretty ordinary. A couple of more scenes could have built the story stronger foundations, but I guess the shaky base was intended.

Imaad Shah merits special appreciation, because he’s not the novice actor he’s supposed to be. He fits into character as it is himself he’s playing and not a scripted role. Shreyas Talpade continues to impress with his flawless acting, and the same goes for Smriti Mishra. They’re naturals.

Puritans will reject the movie with sneers of the tone ‘Dekha, the young generation is going to the dogs, we told you!’, the ‘youth’ will hail the movie as their real story; but the audience the director is looking for will be few.
Neverthless, go for the movie, to see great acting, a very novel storyline, and to find out if you are one of those audiences the director is trying to address.



PS: respect the A tag of the movie :)

Ratatouille [ rat-aa-too-ee] - review

First toys, then monsters, fishes, cars, bugs and now it is a rat. Pixar’s love for uncanny things talking on the screen continues with its latest animation flick - Ratatouille.
Produced under the Disney banner and directed by Brad Bird, Ratatouille is pure delight to watch.
A rat who cooks! Whoa, what could be more unlikely than that? But the brilliantly written screenplay and excellent animation makes you doubt your own surprise. By the end of the movie, you, like all others in the theatre, are convinced that some rats can cook and that they all live in organized colonies, and speak English. This is the beauty of animation: it does stretch your imagination, but not to the extent of disbelief.

Enter Remy, the gourmet rat. He hates eating out from the garbage can, loves watching cookery shows, is a big fan of Gusteau- the famous cook and can tell the difference between saffron and coriander. A bit of a rebel who wants to make his mark, Remy lands in Paris, the world’s food capital and from there starts the story of the rat, the loser and food.
The movie does not just make the audience laugh and cry with it, but drives some important lessons home as well, like the importance of the freedom of choice and loving what you do.
The animation is flawless and the characterization amazing. The loser boy is lanky and disoriented, the villain, squat and cunning dripping from his eyes; and then there is the rat, performing unbelievable antics, but not once does his body defy any physical laws nor does any of his actions look out of place.
The dialogue is implicitly humorous, the screenplay more so. And if the viewer makes a conscious effort, he will be able to understand the nuances of expressions and appreciate how well they have been executed in the movie.
Pixar hence adds another feather to its cap and shows that perfection can actually be improved upon. Though the movie has a completely different storyline and setting from any of the previous pixar movie, it strikes a similar chord as it’s predecessors did. It’s an uncanny emotion, and you feel it just as you did after the father finds nemo, or the car finally wins the race of life. And if I may not be wrong, this subconscious similarity might be intended. Just another example of how movie making is evolving. It’s not just about what is apparent, but also what is not.
A must watch for all. It’s a 110 minutes well spent.

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.