A Scanner Clearly

The Tintin Film

2011-11-12T21:11:00.002+05:30

I had been looking forward to the Tintin film ever since I saw the first teaser. Probably from before that too, but after watching the teaser (or was it a proper trailer – can’t recall that now), I just had this weird exciting feeling in my stomach that this was going to be a really worthwhile experience.

Since that brief introduction to Spielberg’s (and Jackson’s) latest masterpiece, I have read several rants about how unlike Herge's version this Tintin looks, how it's just blasphemous and a sign of crass commercialism to remake the simple, refined 2-D drawings into a 3-D film. And not been able to completely understand what the fuss was about.

After having seen the movie today, I am even more perplexed.

I think Herge made the right choice when he asked Spielberg to make the Tintin movie. Now, this choice might have come across as smoothly as Spielberg generally implies in his interviews, or not so much as some of the critics of this transfer to the big screen might allege, but that it happened to come about is a great thing.

From the moment the film begins, with that wonderful tip of hat to Tintin's creator, this is a well-designed extension of Herge's vision. The credits pay tribute to several of Tintin's books, and the film mixes elements from various editions to come up with a truly enjoyable story.

Ah, the thrill of meeting again the characters you have known for so long. The bumbling Thompson & Thomson. The ever-abusive Captain Haddock. The wonderfully voiced Bianca Castafiore. And good ol' Snowy (with the amount of stunts he does, it's a good thing they didn't use a real dog).

And, of course, the boy wonder. Yes, he looks a bit different from what I would have imagined as a three-dimensional Tintin to look. And the British accent made him sound like Harry Potter a few times. But, those are minor issues really.

The winner, as it should be in general, is the script. It incorporates great elements from multiple books, ties them up together and comes up with an intelligent, respectful, adventurous and utterly funny ride.

And also worth mentioning is the motion-capture technique. It might have worked great in films like the Lord of the Rings trilogy or King Kong, or even Avatar, but in a full length film based on this technique like The Polar Express it had fallen a bit flat. It just works wonders here. The bastardized child of animation and live action truly comes on its own in this film.

Just watch and wonder at the way Sakharine's hair or the camel's fur waves in the wind. Beautiful.

I bloody hope they are making a sequel.

Remembering Iraq

2011-11-09T23:04:00.003+05:30

I am really angry right now.

I am a fan of Wikipedia, have contributed both in terms of content and in terms of moolah to it. But, I went back to the page on Al-Qa'im today, and was astonished to see that most of the past information had been removed. And the fuckers are complaining that the article is a stub, and that we can help by expanding it! No donation from me you moron, Jimmy Wales.

I spent 2.5 precious years of my childhood there. I still remember the person who used to give me chocolates every time he would run into me. I still remember running away from the people celebrating Holi with masalas. I still remember discussing Sridevi, and Mumbai rains, with the local grocery-shop owner. I still remember being (almost) sexually abused by an idiot who was my father's subordinate (I had the good sense of forcing myself out of his house after he emerged in his underwear and started touching me inappropriately).

No, my wiki contribution was not about these personal experiences. It was about the cement plant run by ACC that got us there and provided many local people employment. It was about how the place became a curious melting pot of Iraqis, Romanians (who were handing over the plant to ACC) and us Indians. It was about how that weird chemical plant a few kilometers away used to give us bad asthmatic attacks once in a while. It was about how I saw my first tanks and first sand-dunes.

These are bound to be hazy memories - these events occurred a lifetime ago. But, I remember seeing VP Singh's visit to Baghdad being covered on the national channel and thinking - Man, why aren't our leaders remotely as charismatic as Saddam Hussein.

There, I have said it. I wasn't very happy when Saddam was executed.

During those years in Iraq, way too young as I might have been, I had heard of the cruelty of his regime. I knew he wasn't exactly adored, even though his portraits and posters covered every street in every town I visited. But, things moved smoothly.

Cities were clean, hospitals were efficient, there was freedom (at least before the First Gulf War; that's when we came back and that's when I hear the place got more fundamentalist) and petrol was almost as cheap as mineral water.

I hated coming back to India. Not only because it robbed me of this perceived exotic identity that I had put on over the course of my stay there (and which used to come very handy when interacting with cousins here), but also because India was a shock to me. When we moved to Iraq I was a little over 6 years old, just beginning to grasp the import of stuff happening around me. When we moved back, I was a fairly worldly wise 9 year old, who had seen stuff (including, but not limited to, extremely violent movies, novels not meant for children, that man who used to touch me, and, quite amazingly, female friends who used to play Ghar-Ghar with sticks, making them lie together and do all sorts of scandalous things).

But, recovering from that major diversion, I absolutely hated coming back to India. It was humid. There were mosquitoes. Every place was filled with people. And everyone else was an Indian too. No fun.

Am watching this film called The Devil's Double. Just brought memories back. During our stay there, we once heard this story - apparently, one of Saddam's sons had killed someone. As per Islamic rules, Saddam's son (don't remember if it was Uday or someone else) could be forgiven only if forgiven by the victim's family. Saddam (apparently) agreed with the death sentence. But, (apparently) the victim's family forgave the son, out of 'natural compassion'.

Yep, so Iraq was twisted. Frankly, I don't think how they can not be unless they are all bombed out. With that much oil and those many tribes, it seems your idiotic God is having a lot of fun there.

On Reading. Virtually.

2011-10-18T00:01:00.000+05:30

Don't know if anyone noticed, but had made the blog private because had grown sick of feeling like shooting myself in the morning all too often after another stupid post written late the previous night. Yep, am not happy right now, but it has been a recurring element of my life, and will probably continue to be.

On the other hand, a road trip to Surat last weekend to conduct a quiz made me extremely happy. If only there was more money in conducting quizzes.

Didn't get back to blogging because of another reason. I have found something else to do, which keeps me tied up after work and on weekends.

On an impulse, a few weeks back, I bought the iPad. The iPad 2 to be precise. Like my fairly expensive, and quite apprehensive, purchase of an iPod video during my internship in 2007, I haven't regretted it for one moment.

I am an information junkie. I want to read as much as I can, I want to know as much there is to know about stuff around me as I can. It's a different story that I can hardly retain about a tenth of it. But I love reading. And iPad is a boon for anyone who does.

Two of my most favorite apps on iPad (with the exception of the Angry Birds game of course) are Instapaper and Zinio.

Instapaper helps you save online articles for reading later. It works seamlessly across your laptop browser and the tablet, and is ideal for those 'longform' articles that you keep coming across but never get the time to read. Have already discovered one of my favorite writers through this app - Atul Gawande, a US doctor of Indian origin, who writes for The New Yorker (which I discovered truly for the first time through the iPad also - it's a brilliant brilliant journal), and very incisively on complex issues like the American health care system or solitary confinement in prisons.

Instapaper also helped me find this site called Longform.org that picks out some amazing articles daily for you to read. The range includes a piece written by the inimitable Pauline Kael on Citizen Kane to an article on the unavoidable Amanda Knox to the phenomenon called Sasha Grey to a very objective story of the downfall of Mel Gibson by Peter Biskind, whose books on Hollywood I am a big fan of.

Zinio claims to be the largest magazine store in the world. And certainly looks like it. I have bought magazines from the US, the UK and India on it and browsed through some more from France, Brazil and other assorted places. I love magazines. And so, browsing through Zinio is to me, to use a cliche, what a 5 year old must feel like in a candy store.

And, of course, there's the Kindle app. Which is a fairly ordinary app. It does its job well. No frills. But the massive collection of books that Amazon has just kills you, figuratively.

And the one-click purchase kills you in more literal (and financial) terms. I used to curse Flipkart for their easy check-out of the shopping cart. But it's no wonder that the Bansal duo learned their craft at Amazon. Because the Amazon store doesn't give you a chance. One click and the book is on my iPad. And a few more dollars have disappeared from my bank account.

A malfunctioning mouse can turn your purse lighter by a few bucks in a few seconds. And in the age of a falling rupee, it is not a happy condition.

But I am still some time away from staring at bankruptcy. And more books (and articles) than I can read in my lifetime.

Tamas

2011-09-04T00:20:00.005+05:30

A collection of CDs covering the entire series of Tamas has just come out. Am going through it right now.

The production values are quite ordinary, but the acting, the screenplay is just fantastic.

Watching people like Harish Patel, Virendra Saxena, KK Raina, and many other familiar faces whose names I can't even recall, who went on to become regular character actors in some of the most iconic Indian films and serials, is amazing.

But, what captures you the most are the images. Tamas is part of the oldest images of my life. The scene where Deepa Sahi jumps into a well, and I haven't seen ahead to confirm if that memory is real, has been one of the most deeply etched marks in my memory. I would have been 5-6 years old when I last saw it.

And the Tamas family getting together in the classic Mile Sur Mera Tumhara video of course. Or I might be confusing one thing from the past with another again.

The film/mini-series is as much a landmark in Indian cinema as the partition was a nightmare on the country's psyche. I have written multiple times earlier how pointless it seems now that so many people died during the birth of two nations that are unbelievably similar. Pakistan and India together would have kicked so much ass.

The fact that India has celebrated Eid this week with as much fervor (though Ganesh Utsav seems to have stolen the thunder here in Mumbai) as possibly in any other part of the world proves that.

To an extent.

I still feel that we are (more than a bit) biased towards Hinduism. Despite the fact that most of us respect religious freedom, we do not realize how Hindu-ized our regular institutions are. We need to balance that gap.

But, I think we are getting there. For me Eid is as much a celebratory occasion as Diwali is. And it's the same for many of my friends. And not just because it gives you an office holiday. Or a Khan film release.

But also because you appreciate what the day stands for.

First Day First Show

2011-09-03T00:28:00.006+05:30

Have been reading this rather delightful book called First Day First Show. It is essentially a collection of articles written by Anupama Chopra during her career as a print journalist on the movie beat. For a long time with India Today.

Am not a big fan of hers, mainly because she comes across as too gooey on NDTV. But she certainly is one of the more intelligent people writing (or talking) about films in India. Hell. if she had the foresight to marry Vidhu Vinod Chopra, one of the most successful producers in Hindi cinema, she has got to have some brains.

Anyway, the book, which starts with a rather narcissistic foreword by Shah Rukh Khan (and what else would one expect), covers a fairly comprehensive tract of moviedom starting from the mid-90s.

If nothing else, it just helps you revisit those crazy times when to be able to own a mobile phone was a status symbol, when Devgan (Devgn) and Kajol did films like Hulchul, AB was being crucified for doing Mrityudaata, and Kuchh Kuchh Hota Hai was classy. The 90s look as crazy now as the 80s looked in the 90s.

The book is chronologically set and I am just about in the time when the new Bollywood brigade led by Anurag Kashyap is beginning to show its attitude in the 1990s (Satya is making people pee their pants) and Devgn and Kajol have got married. This has covered more than half of the book. So Chopra probably got less prolific with time.

But, exciting times ahead. I have cheated and looked ahead in the chapter headings. And it goes at least as far as Love, Sex aur Dhokha.

Step-children

2011-08-14T21:43:00.004+05:30

I am in a really bad mood tonight. Mostly because I know I won't be able to sleep late tomorrow on a rare holiday morning because the morons in my housing society will try to push their pop-patriotism on everyone else by playing 'Ae mere pyaare watan' right from 8 am.

But, also because I am watching a rather emotional episode of Just Dance. I have generally come to see through the plastic emotionality that most TV programs thrust on us, but, and maybe it was because I am drunk, or maybe because I feel very strongly about it, I could not keep from crying when Irfan, one of the contestants on the show, had to state that he is as Hindustani as anyone else.

The fact that a Muslim citizen still has to say that is extremely painful. It makes me ashamed of myself. And my country.

Really liked Rajit's performance. Don't know in terms of the technicalities, but the dance was good to make one realize how we are leaving the green in our flag behind. The saffron and the white will not go far if we continue doing that.

Ae mere pyaare watan, the pyaar we have for you is standing on very weak grounds.

Kolkata

2011-07-08T22:53:00.007+05:30

I am listening to the songs from Khelein Hum Jee Jaan Sey as I begin my 10-day bed-rest period. I can't imagine how I would pass the next 9 days. I am always restless and the thought of lying down at one place for most of the time for the next 10 days is painful. But the alternative is even more dreadful.

I have always liked the songs of KHJJS a lot more than the film. Probably because I don't have to watch Abhishek Bachchan while listening to the songs. I had quite liked the film when I saw it a few months back on Tata Sky. The film and the music remind me a lot of Kolkata and Bengal.

My earliest memory of Kolkata is of visiting my mother's parents - can't recall if it was Ballygunge or Tollygunge - but have very fond memories of those trips. I remember this cloudy day when someone who used to work at the house - I have a feeling his name was Narsingh, but not sure - took me for a trip on the metro, and also to the Nehru's Children's Museum. I could not have been more than 5-6 years old and I remember so much of that trip so clearly. I visited the Museum several years later and it was very underwhelming. I do not remember much from this later visit.

The next visit I remember was in December 1995. This was the first time that our four-member family took two rooms to stay while on a trip. We were staying at the company guest-house and the luxury of having my own room felt amazing. The trip was very memorable on the whole too. Kolkata is a lot more bearable in the winter.

The next visit, on the other hand, was not memorable at all. I was back in Kolkata in 1999, a couple of months before my first shot at JEE. I used to get stuff from Brilliant Tutorials by post, and they were having a crash course before the exam in some of the larger cities before the JEE, and my parents decided that it made sense for me to attend. It was one of the most painful experiences of my life. I was staying at this very sad Maharashtrian guest-house with my father, where the food was bad, I had to walk for over 4 km to get to the class, and once at the class, I hardly understood anything being taught there. My preparation for my first attempt was really bad and I was made aware of that very starkly in the 2-3 weeks I managed to stay there. On one of my frequent phone calls with my mother, I just broke down and said that I could not do it, that JEE was not meant for me. I was called back. Never felt more like a failed person in my life. Or since then. Of course, I went to Kota, gave up living for almost a year and cracked JEE the next year. But that period in Kolkata still gives me nightmares.

The next visit and two subsequent visits after that to the city have been to Joka. A place I love in a way it is not possible to describe. Kolkata is as much a part of me as Delhi is. And I miss it badly as I listen to these songs from KHJJS. And the film's not even based in present day West Bengal.

I miss Joka like hell. And the feeling that this feeling will be there for ever kills me. It's like a person close to you going away and you knowing that he won't come back ever.

----------------------

Update: Just saw the trailer of Chittagong, starring Manoj Bajpayi, Raj Kumar Yadav, Nawazuddin Siddiqui (the man with the best performance in Peepli Live) and Barry John. The trailer seems to suggest that it's a much better made film than KHJJS. I hope it gets a proper release and does well too.

Sunday Night Fever

2011-07-04T03:01:00.001+05:30

Had a near perfect day today. And such days are so rare that one needs to record this for the future me.

First, found a store that has clothes that fit me. I understand that I have ballooned up a lot in the last few years, but I am sure there are tons of Indians who are my size and maybe larger than me. Where do they get their clothes from! Surely not everyone gets them custom-made. Thankfully found a place today (and got to know of some others, which I'll try out in the coming days) where sanity prevails and there is some thought given to poor blokes like me, who can't fly to the US to do their shopping. I am actually surprised I am writing about clothes, but one does need a few shirts and couple of pair of jeans to cover one's modesty (and not keep wearing the same thing everyday).

Two, was THE MOVIE. But, will come to that in a while.

Three, was a meal at the Dakshin at ITC Maratha (or is it Grand Maratha - how can anything Maratha not be Grand?). We had gone there planning a meal at Peshawri, and in anticipation of the beautiful non-veg platter there I hadn't eaten the whole day. But, since they don't take confirmed reservations after 8, we were stuck with a half-an-hour wait and decided to try out Dakshin instead.

Instead of trying out the a-la-carte menu, we just decided to take it easy and settle for the Thali. Which is an extensive 3-course deal. We were three of us, and ordered one each of the three Thalis on offer - veg, non-veg, sea-food. Since all cost the same, they were fine with us sharing stuff across plates, which is generally frowned upon at most restaurants.

I can't go through the Thali item-by-item for you, so would just say that this was far better than I had expected. Right from the poppadums, chutneys and pickles they began with, through the chicken and fish starters, the unbelievably delicate appams, the lovely avial, the unforgettable fish and chicken curries (I was having the non-veg version), and finally the delicious sambhar - it was a beautiful experience. And the service was impeccable. Good food and good service. Makes your day.

But, the best was for the last. I am not exactly a sweets person. Except for some very select dishes like kaju barfi, I am not a big fan of sweet stuff, and generally avoid dessert after a good main course just to retain the tastes. Thankfully I decided to have a try today. My cousin, who was having the veg version got this light, just about sweet, coconut dish, which was quite interesting. He also got the payasam and another dish that I can't recall much of now.

My sister-in-law (who was having the sea-food version) and I got the same stuff - payasam and another dish that looked like a burnt barfi.

But, what do morons like me know! I stuck my spoon into it and the spoon just went right through it. So, it was no barfi. I scooped up a small part of the slightly gooey thing and put in my mouth.

"Oh my god" was probably my first reaction. I won't remember because I was in a daze for a few seconds after that. This was my first encounter with a Vattal Appam. This dish made from pine jaggery is the most brilliant dish I have had in a very very long time. It's just the right amount of sweet, feels very light on the tongue, is absolutely mind-bogglingly delicious.

I asked for a second helping. I have been thinking about it since I got back home. I think I am going to dream about it tonight. I think I am in love with it.

Will talk about THE MOVIE later.

Local Train

2011-06-26T00:14:00.003+05:30

He woke up at around 1 am.

He brushed his teeth, shaved and got into his usual jeans and T-Shirt. Wrote a letter.

He walked out of his housing society, hailed an auto to Goregaon East station.

He sat down on the platform and waited.

As the train entered the station, he lied down on the tracks.

The fucking train stopped just before it reached him.

He took an auto to get back to work, hoping no one saw him. Threw the letter out on the way.

Shaitan

2011-06-25T01:20:00.002+05:30

Am listening to Retro Pop Shit from the Shaitan OST.

If you haven't seen this film by now, please don't visit my blog again. I am in love with the film, and its music at the moment. UNFORTUNATELY, the album that I have with me does not have Khoya Khoya Chaand.

I always like characters, and probably people in real life too, who are on the edge. Who can do stuff you would not expect them to in a normal world. But, we do not live in a normal world. Shaitan's lead players are like that.

I absolutely love it when a film-maker shows respect for music and uses it well. I also love it when a film-maker makes a film set in a milieu he understands. Bijoy (or is it Bejoy) Nambiar is that film-maker.

Anurag Kashyap, you can walk on water.

Aside: Juhi Babbar is/was married to Nambiar. Juhi is Raj and Nadira Babbar's daughter. She had filed for a divorce from Bijoy sometime back, but am not sure if they are legally separated yet.

Yep, you know now where to come for your Bollywood trivia.

From Last Post

2011-06-19T21:52:00.003+05:30

Just came to me that they always pay HR far more than the work is worth. Whether in an organization or on a TV show. HR could be done away with and no one would notice.

This and That

2011-06-19T00:39:00.003+05:30

I am a stickler for these things, so am more than a bit distressed when I am not able to figure out if the freaking thing is called Dahi Vada, Dahi Wada or Dahi Bada. My vote would be for the first option, even if I have been calling it the last one all through my life. The reason I bring it up of course is because I learned to make it last week.

I am sorry if my gushing posts on learning to cook new dishes resemble a newly wed housewife's, but it sure is a satisfying feeling to make yet another much-admired dish from your childhood. And make it well.

It did not start very well though. My vadas kept burning up with the paste inside remaining wet and raw. A distress call home (I really do sound like a housewife!) made me realize that the oil was probably too hot. After cooling the oil down a bit, the vadas came out great. I am beginning to feel cooking is not as difficult a job as people make it out to be.

Of course, cooking the same boring shit everyday must be mind-numbing.

***********************************************************************

Samit Basu has redeemed himself a bit now. Since I had read close to 160-170 pages of the 340-odd paged Turbulence, I thought I might as well read it through. Nope, despite working in finance, I am not very familiar with the concept of sunk costs. On page 209, which is right in the middle of an international crisis caused by some Indian superheroes, there's a line 'The Indian prime minister has already appeared on TV, bleating gently about the need to remain calm...'. Given my overflowing fountain of love for Manmohan Singh these days, that line seemed very very apt. He does bleat quite often, doesn't he.

Damn, I was planning to have mutton biryani tomorrow for lunch, but bleating being associated with the most inadequate PM we have ever had is likely to keep me off any mutton for some time.

*************************************************************************

Saw the first episode of Just Dance. I don't see what the fuss is about. For one, calling Hrithik Roshan the 'God of Dance' through the show is really jarring. Having him refer to himself as a Superstar is even more so. I think the celebrity-featuring shows that have really hit a chord with the audience are those where the celebrity becomes a part of the audience. Crosses that perpetual line that divides the common man and the star. Here that divide is being made even more prominent.

In its concept, the show is not different from Dance India Dance, which really seemed to have a better quality of dancers. Can't believe they are paying HR so much for this.

The Overrated Samit Basu

2011-06-17T21:59:00.002+05:30

Someone who leaves IIMA to pursue a career in writing ought to be a fantastic writer. Or so I thought.

I have been trying to find that spark that Samit Basu is supposed to possess. The spark that makes publishers keep publishing his books.

I bought the three books in the GameWorld trilogy, but got bored midway through the second book. The plot was interesting, but the execution was plain boring.

I also tried to read Terror on the Titanic. Which put me off reading fiction for a month.

And I am reading Turbulence right now. I am through about 40% of the novel. The plot is very interesting. How could a Heroes-X-Men-Misfits clone not be interesting? But I am not sure I can read it the whole way through.

Basu's characters talk so much. So much! Each one of them is too clever by half. Every one takes pot shots at each other. And the narrator keeps trying to beat them at this cleverness. In every book. It's like the same character with a different get-up turning up in every book of his.

BORING.

Irrational Surds

2011-06-06T00:19:00.006+05:30

I have been making fun of Baba Ramdev's 'protest' on Facebook and otherwise too in one-on-one conversations. I don't think too many people take him seriously. It's great that he is teaching Indians to live a healthy life, but we are well past the time when a half-naked man (I wanted to say fakir, but then fakirs don't own islands and fly around in chartered planes) can dictate political terms. Especially someone as utterly unimportant as Ramdev.

But, I was shocked when I got to know that the Central Government actually used violence to evict him from the place he and his followers had gathered to carry on their hunger strike. The Government could have easily ignored this idiot's fast, but they have ended up according it so much importance. The Government is trying, as visible to the naked eye, to get the Lokpal Bill passed, even if not having the PM within its purview seems like a really pointless issue to stall things for, and Ramdev's fast was a very obvious effort to create ground for a future career in politics.

It's like Manmohan Singh's government can't do anything right now. I don't understand what's gone so wrong in just two years. The country voted him back with a higher vote share than in the previous elections in 2009. It might have been partly because it has looked for a long time now that BJP is filled with senile leaders feeling up an elephant and smiling at their reflections in a mirror, and not so much because of UPA I's own merits.

But, I feel right now that I am being ruled by a eunuch. Who is guarding the harem so that Rahul Gandhi's virginity is not lost too soon.

I don't want this moron at the helm of things for the next 3 years.

School Tiffin

2011-05-28T16:47:00.008+05:30

I saw Do Dooni Chaar on the 9th of January, Dhobi Ghaat on the 24th, Band Baaja Baraat on the 17th of March, Shor In The City on the 1st of May, Ragini MMS on the 14th - In just about 5 months, that is a pretty great platter from Hindi cinema. But, I watched a film today that has made me the happiest I have been in a very long time. And sad too.

Happy, obviously, because it is a masterpiece that needs to be seen by anyone who watches Hindi films. I feel a deep deep satisfaction when I see new stories being told, new characters being introduced in an industry that sees so little of originality.

I am sad because I know this film is not going to recover its costs in all likelihood, because we always have preconceived thoughts about certain films. And so we don't watch 'children's films'. Also because there are so many Stanleys out there, who manage to smile through really difficult lives. I have known some of them. I am trying to do something for some of them.

I once went on a trek with some of my schoolmates into the jungles of Jharkhand when I was in Class VI and was undergoing a training period to be inducted into the Boy Scouts. The trek was the finale of a fairly rigorous week of training. We were expected to be gone all day and had been instructed to bring suitably fortifying lunches. My mom was slightly tied up with work and our maid-servant was on leave, so I carried puris left over from the previous night, with some tomato ketchup for lunch. When we stopped for lunch after a very tedious morning, and I saw the other kids opening their tiffin boxes to sumptuous lunches of aloo paratha and sabzi or some such thing, I felt embarrassed. I sat alone and had my lunch, too ashamed to share my meager food with others.

But, I was still carrying lunch.

To be ridiculed by your teacher in front of your classmates for any little thing feels like a calamity when you are in school. For being considered unworthy to share their lunch because you don't bring your own tiffin must be mortifying.

Amol Gupte claimed to have played a more significant role in Taare Zameen Par than he was credited for. I saw his role in Kaminey. And now I have seen Stanley Ka Dabba. I think if there was a war between Aamir Khan and Gupte, I would probably fight on Gupte's side.

And Partho Gupte, thanks for this. If you never work in front of, or behind, the camera, after this film, people will still remember you.

Flipkart

2011-05-24T22:49:00.004+05:30

Is it only me or are you also seeing Flipkart ads everywhere? Almost every Google ad, on any site I visit is invariably a Flipkart ad. Every alternate ad during IPL (yeah, I am one of the five-odd people in India still watching it everyday) is one of those mouse ads. Which I have gotten bored of completely now. And they were not all that clever to begin with.

It is only because the site itself is so awesome that I don't mind it all that much.

They have a phenomenal collection of books, offer great discounts and have the fastest check out of the shopping cart I have seen on any e-commerce site.

But, the best thing has to be the service standards. Which, unfortunately, most Indian firms that directly interact with the customer don't seem to realize.

I had been resisting joining the Flipkart bandwagon for a long time. Despite glowing recommendations (and Facebook 'Like's) from IITD alumni (one of the founders, Sachin Bansal, is a batchmate from engineering - we used to play Age of Empires together. Would have bonded with him some more had I known he was going to start such a successful firm). Because of my usual disdain for too many people asking me to like something.

I also prefer touching and feeling a book before buying it and browsing through the various aisles at the local Landmark store. Which is about the only decent bookstore (bookstores, actually - there are two) in Mumbai in my experience.

But, I was looking for a book recently and the only place I could find it on was Flipkart. I gave in. Placed an order. Was done placing an order in just about a couple of minutes because of the really smooth interface. Kept getting updates on the movement of my book. And then it got delivered to my office in 3 days! The delivery man was very polite - unbelievably so. And they have Cash On Delivery.

One reason why their delivery system is so good is because they have their own courier network. They do not rely on the usual courier firms. At least for the larger cities.

The second reason is that there seems to be some thought given to the kind of people they recruit. I have ordered a fair amount of stuff from them in the last 2-3 months, and every time the person delivering the package has been very polite. Which is so so rare in India.

And I was sold on them completely today when I called their Bangalore center after a rare fuck-up. I had placed an order way back on the 5th of May, but even though the order showed up as approved in my account, there had been no movement in terms of dispatch. Had got an inconclusive response when I had checked with them last week. And since I really wanted the books, I called them up again. The call center guy was a little lost as to why the delay had been caused, but then he connected me to someone obviously more senior. He was very polite, apologetic to the right degree for the fuck-up and replaced my order right away, promising that the books will be delivered from Delhi in 2 days. He checked before that if the books were available in Mumbai, in which case they could have been delivered today. They were not, and I still have to see if the 2-day delivery promise holds true. But, when you are pissed off, and the person at the other end just listens to you and understands your concern, it makes up for so much.

Flipkart is great.

And it also feels great that a person I played AoE with (and defeated on very rare occasions - Sachin was quite good at it) is responsible for it to some extent.

In The Line of Beauty

2011-05-23T21:55:00.005+05:30

"It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society."

Now isn't that about one of the most intelligent statements to come across. It's by Jiddu Krishnamurti, who or whose teachings I confess I have very little personal knowledge of. I have always stayed away from such people with large following because I have a simple logic - if a lot of people are following someone with so much devotion and faith, the person can't be worth following.

So, this line of beauty came to me through a friend, who told me this after a discussion through email on my usual frustration with people and life in general.

Maybe I should read more of Krishnamurti.

And, have I said this before? My friends are amazing. How did a person as asocial as me end up with a bunch of friends this mature, and this good.

Jab Koi Baat Bigad Jaaye

2011-05-21T21:02:00.005+05:30

It's usual to be dismissive of the 80s (and early 90s), especially when it comes to Hindi films. And I revel in it too often. It's the best way to bring up laughs in a group.

But there are some scenes, some songs from those god-forsaken times that almost make you miss the times. Well, maybe not miss them, but to think fondly of a time that was simpler, films had one set revenge-drama storyline, heroines had fluffy hairstyles, heroes wore shiny tight pants and dances were similar to your weekly PT exercise in the school.

I accidentally ran into one such familiar song a short while back. It does not have any of the 80s bling, just some bad lip-sync and some garish lip-stick. It is a beautiful song from the 1990 film Jurm. I have listened to it so often, but it seems fresh every time.

It evokes the same feelings as Tumse Milke from Parinda.

Am not in love. And so much am.

Comfort Food

2011-05-16T21:15:00.004+05:30

I now appreciate why it makes sense to marry within one's own community. I don't have anything against inter-state, inter-caste or inter-religion marriages - in fact most of my closest friends and relatives have married outside their immediate community - and I have always tried to support them whenever there was opposition from family.

But, there are some things one holds dear that someone from outside the community can't appreciate. Or grow into.

I realized that today when I had this unbelievable urge to have Aloo Ka Bhujia. Dal-Bhaat-Aloo Ka Bhujia is the food I come to when I am not feeling all that great. It's my greatest comfort food. Reminds me of the happiest times at home, makes me believe that everything is fine with the world.

I have found a lot of recipes on the net that could make up for the amazing food from home. Rajma. Omelettes. Nenua-chana (nenua is a terribly under-rated vegetable; I can't recall right now what it's called in other parts of the country). Karela Bharwa. Chicken Masala (actually no, I still miss the heavily spiced chicken my dad used to cook at home on Sundays).

But, despite its very simple recipe I have not found anyone who can cook Aloo Ka Bhujia as good as my mother. Maybe there is an ingredient called love.

So, I was not well today and I felt like puking everytime I thought of food and called my mother for that recipe for the world's best Aloo Ka Bhujia, as I couldn't think of anything else that would make me feel like eating. Surprisingly it is very simple. I tried my hand at it tonight. It is nowhere close to the bhujia I remember from home, but a lot better than the oily mess my maid creates.

Can't imagine a non-Bihari managing this. If I were to marry, I would marry a Bihari. For no one from any other community can infuse life into potatoes like this.

Singapore Trip

2011-05-12T23:39:00.000+05:30

This is my third visit to Singapore, and I am absolutely shocked by the changes from my last visit in 2008.

But, some things don't change thankfully. Had a sumptuous early dinner at Jaggi's in Little India (which according to me is the best Punjabi food joint, even if you include eateries in India) and then rushed to the Night Safari.

They seem to have changed the route a bit and added some more animals since my last visit in 2007, but it still is a fascinating experience.

Looking forward to spending time on Shenton Way tomorrow, where my ex-office is and also having lunch at Lau Pa Sat. When I went to the hotel in Little India where I had stayed during my internship the Filipino manager(ess) recognized me soon enough. I wonder if the Bong family owned stall I used to get my dinner from at Lau Pa Sat will recognize me too. Unlikely, but it feels nice to be at the only place outside India that feels like home.

Peter, my ex-boss, is back in Sydney, but would have been nice to run into him here.

Rahul Gandhi

2011-05-11T23:48:00.007+05:30

I am happy that Rahul Gandhi has been arrested. I would be happier if Mayawati has the guts to make him spend one night in a roach-infested cell where he goes to the loo in full view of his fellow convicts. Where hopefully he is even sodomized or beaten.

From what I have seen of him till now, he is a moron, an absolute idiot and someone who thinks, unfairly, that just being born a Gandhi gives him the right to rule us. His comments to the media make me cringe. The day India elects him as our PM (which, unfortunately, seems very likely) would be as bad and as shameful as Asif Ali Zardari being chosen as Pakistan's President.

I despise Mayawati. My recent trips to Lucknow have made me pretty much weep when I consider how much greater the city could have been if it hadn't been for the Mulayam Singhs, Kalyan Singhs and Mayawatis, but it certainly will be worse if Congress takes it over.

Rahul Gandhi, I am willing to fund an all expenses paid trip for you to Essel World. Even riding pillion on a bike, if you enjoy those thrills. Just leave India alone.

Your current PM is doing a very good job of riding pillion as far as ruling is concerned. Unfortunately, there is no driver on the bike PM Singh is riding pillion cross-legged on.

Donations

2011-05-10T22:16:00.004+05:30

Am watching a film that seems to be the most cruel I have seen in recent times.

And this when I saw a film called Slow Torture Puke Chamber recently, which is apparently a classic in this genre called Vomit Porn. So for the length of the film there is one woman who keeps puking, eating it and rolling in it. And another woman who for some reason thinks that urinating on camera is arousing. But the climax takes the cake (and I might not eat a cake after that for some time) when this fat man slits open the belly of a pregnant woman, takes out the half-formed kid, cuts off its body parts, grates in a mixer, drinks the bloodied syrup, pukes into the container, mixes it again, drinks, pukes and so on.

No, I didn't enjoy it. But I saw it. And could see it till the final scene.

I am watching Never Let Me Go right now. Had read the book by Kazuo Ishiguro in what seems like another life. Hadn't seen the film till now because partly I could not find a good print online and partly because I didn't think a movie could add to the brilliant book.

Well, I was wrong.

I have only seen about 25 minutes of the film. And, even though I have been prone to misjudging a film/book early on, this seems like the real thing.

When the teacher tells these children that they are being reared only for their vital organs to be harvested, it makes for a killing scene. What kind of a fate is that. It scared me. All those cute Brit kids not knowing till now what life had in store for them.

But a little later, it also made me think if I wouldn't prefer having a fate like that.

If donating blood is so orgasmic, imagine how much more satisfying donating your organs would be. And to not have to live beyond your forties must be the best.

Life Support

2011-03-03T22:08:00.005+05:30

A friend of mine from engineering went into coma today after a head injury in an accident. Made me think again of something I last thought while watching Guzaarish.

Have mentioned this to some of my friends, but they consider this just another emotional ramble of mine (which I am quite notorious for) after having a few pegs.

But, very seriously (and I am not drunk as I need to be up early tomorrow for a flight), I need to put this in writing somewhere. And this feels like a good enough place, since some of my friends read this. I hope so.

If ever I am in a coma for more than a few days (few being less than 7) or, worse still, have turned into a vegetable that can see, but not do much else - like Ethan in Guazaarish or the horrifying condition of Jean-Dominique Bauby in The Diving Bell and the Butterfly - you will do me a huge favor by letting me die. Please pull the plug. I will be very happy and grateful.

Also, I don't know how laws work in this, but please give all my money and assets to my mother. Except for my books (my only possession I really care about), which I would like to be shared between a couple of my friends. I have bothered them when alive the most, and consider this as some compensation. Unless they don't want it. In which case, please give them to my school in Jharkhand, where I did most of my schooling from. If even they don't want it (shucks), donate it to my parents' favorite charity. If they don't want it either, just burn them.

Not my parents. The books.

Ok. Done.

I love George Carlin

2011-03-02T22:58:00.007+05:30

You know, if you have been remotely regular at quizzes over the last 2-3 years, you would have encountered the odd George Carlin question. He passed away in June 2008, and it has made many people like me, who hadn't really heard of him earlier, discover him afresh, through his regained popularity at quizzes.

I had seen short clips of his performances on YouTube, but I am watching his full length stage performance for the first time.

He is not funny. I generally don't find stand-up comics of the American kind funny. For instance, I can't understand why Seinfeld was so successful. The only one I enjoy watching is the Canadian Russell Peters. So, I was getting bored in the initial few minutes.

But gradually and surely, I was won over by his opinions. A man who makes fun of religion, young kids, parenting, dead people, parents, all within half an hour of his more than an hour long performance is a good person.

Right now, he is talking about how he has very low tolerance for most people beyond a few minutes because of their stupid bullshit. Nothing resonates more with me.

I hate it when people complain that I don't pay attention to them or don't laugh at their jokes. I have a great sense of humor. The problem, darling, is that your jokes are not funny enough. You are just loud. And tacky. Not funny.

(I just felt like Karan Johar using the darling word there)

Surreal

2011-03-01T23:15:00.003+05:30

I just had a very very surreal moment while watching a film.

I settled down a short while back on my couch to watch a film after watching the news, during which I had a couple of cans of beer and a packet of potato chips (The Lay's India's Magic Masala is really quite good).

I began watching Another Year, the phenomenal film by Mike Leigh, from where I left it last time and the scene I started watching from has an old lonely man having a couple of beers and gulping down some chips on a train.

Shite. But surreal.

Of beautiful magazines and ugly people

2011-02-26T22:47:00.006+05:30

I should probably create a label called 'magazines' now.

Continuing my love for Lounge a bit further, I loved this week's edition of the magazine. Firstly, it had some nice articles about gaming, of both the online and the board type, by Krish Raghav, whom I ran into at IIT Kanpur recently. The meeting inspired me to read up on European board games like The Settlers of Catan, and a whole new fantastic world opened up for me. It's been a Narnia moment for me, the one where you open a door and discover a whole new unexplored world that you didn't even know existed.

I also liked the article by Aakar Patel. He must be the man whose articles generate the most hate mails for Lounge. He seems to enjoy doing something that I can't describe in English - 'ungli karna', and there can't be a better phrase for it (I think). He loves bursting the bubbles that we Indians of the present time seem to live in and it's always great to find someone who shares my lack of faith in the 'India story'.

There's a lot going great for our country. But Indians are also the most uncultured, crass group of people I can think of. And Patel captures it phenomenally well. Great credit to Lounge for keeping him a part of its even otherwise great portfolio of columnists, including the Mint editor who writes about graphic novels.

The article by Patel this week was about how we Indians are not city builders. In fact, we bring our cities criminally down, including the great ones like Calcutta, Bombay and Madras. The name changes are not the worst of it.

This lack of civic sense continues into our daily lives too. I was reading the article after my trip to the local mall. People waiting right in front of the elevator door, breaking queues, not letting the people inside to get out, as if it were a vertical motion version of our Mumbai's local trains. A woman just walking away casually after her child took out several DVDs from the shelf and threw them on the ground at the Crossword store without bothering to place them back or even apologizing to the staff. Just two instances of how uncouth we are.

And the daily assault on my senses as people spit casually and honk madly on the roads is agonizing. I am increasingly beginning to hate being an Indian, or at least appreciate the merits of living within perpetually air-conditioned environs, where one does not have to encounter the real India.

This is a feeling similar to what I have had in relation to Bihar for a long time. I love the state, and feel very comfortable when I am in Bihar (even though I haven't been there since 2004), and it is an integral part of me. But, I can't identify with a lot of the typical cultural elements of the state. I can see what is wrong with the state, even though most of my fellow Biharis can't seem to, and they even revel in perpetuating these problems.

The same is happening with India on a larger scale now. We might be one of the fastest developing economies, but our mindsets are not developing at even a quarter of that rate. We might be the largest democracy, but we are unimaginably inconsiderate of other people's opinions. We might be the land that gave birth to non-violent protest, but we are easily one of the most violent people, looking forward to getting offended for the smallest of things.

******************************************************************

As might be clear by now, I am a sucker for great magazines. Am reading this other fantastic entrant into my pantheon. Forbes India has recently come out with their quarterly called Forbes Life India. It must be the most beautiful thing I have held in my hands in the last few months (without any sexual connotations). And the articles match up to the layout. I had been seeing it at bookstores for some time, but the (sterile) cover did not appeal to me at all (even though it has a naked person's picture). Then while waiting for the movie today (I saw Tanu weds Manu, which is really really good), I decided to spend some time at the Crossword store at the mall, flipped a few pages and fell in love. Really looking forward to seeing how the Network 18 guys follow up this class act.

More meat in Brunch now

2011-02-21T16:39:00.005+05:30

No one does weeklies quite like the good fellows at HT Media. I have been a big fan of HT's weekend supplement Brunch and Mint's weekend supplement Lounge for a long time.

In fact, I had begun subscribing to HT on moving to Mumbai only because of Brunch, but then discontinued it because it felt wasteful as I wasn't reading the main paper at all. The column in Brunch I used to look forward to reading the most was Rude Food or its derivative columns by Vir Sanghvi. I get to read that now anyway through the link to the online version he shares every Sunday on his twitter account.

I still do read Mint, which in itself is a brilliant newspaper, and so Lounge finds itself placed on my doormat every Saturday morning, all smiling for me when I open the front-door almost the first thing after waking up.

I was in Kanpur this weekend to conduct a sci-fi quiz at IIT as part of their tech-fest TechKriti, and had resigned myself to the fact that someone would have removed my newspaper by the time I got back Sunday afternoon. And was immensely relieved on reaching my flat and finding that it was still there. There are few things more relaxing than retiring on your couch on a leisurely Sunday afternoon, after a few very hectic days, after a hot shower, with, yes, you guessed it, a mug of chilled Kingfisher beside you.

There was a short trip to Hypercity to do the grocery shopping between that return from Kanpur and retiring on the couch bits. One of the reasons I look forward to going to Hypercity every weekend is the shelves of magazines that greet you on entry into the store. I normally buy the latest edition of Tehelka, which I need to write about some time soon, and a couple of other magazines if anything else looks interesting. It usually doesn't.

But this time around a familiar name stood out from all the other India Todays and Newsweeks and Peoples on the shelves. I was surprised to see a thick edition of Brunch being sold there. Turns out the Brunch team has decided to come out with a glossier and meatier version of Brunch as a quarterly.

The inaugural edition has Karan Johar and Katrina Kaif on the cover, in case you plan to go out looking for it.

I haven't got beyond the first few pages, but the remaining content does look promising. I was slightly disappointed with the printing in the part that I have gone through - there are several words where the letters have been printed one on the other. But, hopefully just teething issues.

Ki Ab Kar ja re Bandhu...

2011-02-06T02:01:00.003+05:30

A friend's GTalk status inspired me to (talk to him and) go back to the Udaan soundtrack.

Under the effect of some fine wine had earlier in the evening and the rising effect of some Kingfisher Strong had just now, I can't help but wonder if we will have music like this again.

2010's gone, and no film or its music has been more worth experiencing than Udaan.

I would ideally like to end with a nice line from the soundtrack. But one feels so blessed when one can't decide which line to pick.

Mr Motwane and Mr Trivedi, you have a hard act to follow.

Behekta hoon...

2011-01-30T02:57:00.003+05:30

I have stated on this blog before that Sanjay Leela Bhansali should not be allowed to make movies. Largely because he wastes so much. And overdoes things.

I have a confession to make. I saw Guzaarish recently on Tata Sky. I hadn't seen the movie when it was playing at the nearest PVR because I didn't feel like watching another Bhansali creation after Saawariya. But I was bored that Saturday afternoon and gave in to the only watchable thing on TV.

And I, well, loved it. Despite Aishwarya Rai (I cringe every time I see or her hubby on screen now).

I had been expecting another over the top tear-jerker from the king of excess, but the film is actually fairly restrained. At least as restrained as a partly overacting Hrithik Roshan can be.

I did like the songs - the lyrics are almost Gulzar-like - and the fact that the movie does not last too long. I liked Shernaz Patel. I loved the tone of the film, whatever that means.

So, and I never thought I'd say this, I wouldn't hate it if Mr Roshan gets some of the Best Actor awards this season. And I would be looking forward to what Mr Bhansali churns out next for us.

Ki tera zikr hai, ya itr hai...

Tees Maar Khan

2010-12-25T21:58:00.006+05:30

Saw TMK today.

As you might have read/seen in reviews already, the film is politically incorrect, loud, insensitive to gay people (and albinos), has bad acting (who expected that a film with Akshay Kumar and Katrina Kaif in the lead could have remotely decent acting?), has a tremendously stupid story.

When I first read the reviews I thought the critics were just having their revenge for Farah-Sajid calling them retards some time back. Of course, having seen the film now, I can say that that's not the case.

But even if one overlooks the issues mentioned above, the biggest flaw in the film, which I never thought I would have to blame a Farah Khan movie for, is that IT IS JUST PLAIN BORING.

And very embarrassingly so. Some of the shallow attempts at humour would not have found place in even one of those murderous comedy shows on TV.

Maybe it was a bad idea to have her husband handle every other department, instead of collaborating with slightly more tested experts. At the end of the film, during the Happy Ending song, it becomes very evident how many hats he wore.

Also, maybe Farah Khan lost more by not working with SRK than he did. As a reviewer in Mint's review points out, this film depicts in painful detail how utterly without talent Akshay Kumar is. To give him some due, his dialogues are too childish in the film to really give him anything to work with.

Save yourself a lot of time. Read the story in a newspaper and watch the songs on YouTube. That's all there is to this film.

Film Critics

2010-11-14T22:20:00.003+05:30

It is really annoying how bad most Indian film reviews are. I was reading Raja Sen's review of The Social Network and he actually called the lead actor Jesse Eisenstein! It's Jesse Eisenberg, if you don't already know, but more than the really idiotic mistake with the name it's the extremely unoriginal reviews that these people seem to write that gets me.

If you remotely follow the spectrum of film 'critics' in India you would know that Raja Sen is probably among the better and more informed of the clan. Which does not say much at all. Almost all of the Rediff reviews while Sen was on a sabbatical made me feel like strangling myself. And my opinion is not very different when it comes to most of the other morons selling their wares on TV and on the net.

Nikhat Kazmi has been the butt of everyone's jokes for a long time, and it's fascinating how thick her skin must be to get to work everyday despite all of it, but it speaks more about how utterly pedestrian even the best-selling English newspaper in India must be if it still continues to employ her. But, that does not in any way mean that the other 'experts' are any less stupid. That Masand chap and that Chopra woman are not any better and their animated commentaries on cinema only make me shudder with fear. If these are the chaps people are going to look up to, film criticism in India is born dead.

Even though it's very offensive when someone like Sajid Khan abuses film critics, I do not feel completely surprised. Almost all film critics in the media today deserve the derision. They are leeches who probably do not even understand the import of words, let alone a camera frame.

A Tale of Two Movies

2010-10-23T20:23:00.011+05:30

After a very long time, I saw two films in a day today. And, even though I enjoyed both tremendously, it's very interesting how different the two films are - in treatment, in their setting, in terms of the people they depict.

Saw The Social Network in the morning. It's not out in India yet, which is a shame, and I also missed its screening at the MAMI festival's opening, so gave in and downloaded it last night.

It's one of those rare films of which I was skeptical about when I heard about it first a few months back and even after I saw the trailer, but turned out to be very very good finally. I should have known - one should have faith in David Fincher. And the screenplay by Aaron Sorkin is quite brilliant too. Instead of telling a linear story, the film suddenly jumps to the pre-hearing depositions involving Zuckerburg and his ex-friends. Doing this and then coming back to various points in the story makes one see every conversation in the past in perspective, and makes the Facebook story so much more thrilling.

The film is extremely tight, with some of the best dialogues I have seen since President Nixon was interviewed by a Brit TV anchor and the German Colonel hunted down Jews on screen all those months back. It's very refreshing to see such intelligent characters on screen, where even the Victoria's Secret models are Harvard undergrads, and where everyone speaks such sharp language. Which goes to show how good, realistic dialogues add so much to a film.

And, Zuckerberg comes across as not completely unsavory by the time the film ends. I understand that this is not exactly how things happened in real life, but I have a feeling how things happened in real life would not have made this into a front-runner for the Oscars (as per current run-up talk, things could change by Oscar season), and so the youngest billionaire in the world should not mind too much that he comes across only a bit sexist, selfish, disloyal and mostly childish. And a brilliant programmer.

The other film I saw a short while back was Rakht Charitra.

I generally like Ram Gopal Varma's films. I don't know anyone else who has enjoyed even RGV Ki Aag apart from me. And when on rare occasions he makes something classic like Satya and Company, it just makes it worth one's while to not give up on him. Even though I abhor some of his camera angles, and there's one here that pretty much made me puke - the camera makes two consecutive 360 degree turns when a character goes to meet a powerful politician (whose face is never shown) - and am not a big fan of the Govinda-Govinda-type constant chants, the overall effect is very unique.

I had been looking forward to this film mainly because of the gore-fest it promised to be from the trailers. And so was more than slightly horrified when I saw 2-3 parents walking into the audi at the start of the film with their kids in tow. School-going age kids. Does no one at all ensure that kids don't come to an Adult Only certified film? Sure enough all of these morons made a beeline for the exit half an hour into the film.

I ~~despise~~ generally am not too fond of kids, and I am all for fucking their minds up with scenes of rape and violence (how much more fucked up than today's kids can one get anyway, right?) but I would prefer it if their minds are fucked up in the privacy of people's homes rather than in the movie hall on one of those few occasions when I get to watch a movie children-free. It's bad enough that parents bring children to Pixar films, but it truly is irritating when they bring them to movies such as these.

Coming back to the film, it is really as gory (and more) as the trailer promised. And so the paisa was vasool-ed completely.

But I kept thinking how un-subtle this film was compared to the film I had seen in the morning. Here, the narrator, with an irritatingly nasal voice (oh, why in the world can't Ramu have an Om Puri or an Amitabh Bachchan doing the narration?), spells pretty much everything out. Varma seems to think that everyone in the audience is as dumb as Karan Johar. Or maybe he made the film for Johar.

And how un-gentlemanly the men were. In the earlier film, the (very large) Winklevoss brothers refuse to go and beat up Zuckerburg because it is not what Harvard gentlemen do, and hence end up getting just USD 65 mn from a multi-billion dollar company based on their original idea. In this film, people cut down each other for the flimsiest of reasons. And women are slapped and treated almost as badly as the men. Women's equality has finally reached us in a twisted way.

But, I have made a short trip to the place depicted in the film. And I have heard stories. And I have a very strong feeling the violence is still quite Karan Johar-ed in this film. I am not sure there was someone like Bukka Reddy (played with such relish by Abhimanyu Singh, and I wish the man gets more roles to act himself out - after Gulaal and this one, I am a big fan) but I am sure Paritala Ravi was not as white as he's shown to be either.

On a slight detour to the usual personal experience, I made a trip to Kadapa last Diwali because my dad was posted there for a few months, and I was shocked by the place. It is a part of the Rayalaseema region and even though many friends from IIMC had told me about it, I was quite unprepared for the trip. It's a place where the vegetation is desert-like, food is unimaginably spicy and people are inhumanly violent. In their main fest, whose name I fail to recall right now, animals are slaughtered openly and blood flows in the markets. I saw the pictures, so I am not bluffing. This is India's frontier country, not Western UP.

Since, being from Bihar, I know the cost of exaggerating things, let me also add that the people are generally nice. And most people from there are very nice. As from any other place in India. But, history, culture and climate have come together in such a deadly mix that life seems to count for a little less. Our very sober and pious driver used to drive so carelessly there that I was permanently tense while on the road there, and relaxed only after I crossed the hills into the relatively soothing Karnataka on my way to Bangalore airport.

The film depicts that heat well. And it should be a good lesson in culture for North Indians used to equating every one from down South to the rather (imaginatively conceptualized) non-violent and simple Maddu.

You should watch the film. Partly because you would not want to miss the sequel when the fiery Suriya makes his entry. This feels like an appetizer for the main course coming up in November.

And what a peppery appetizer it is.

MnA Update

2010-10-05T00:09:00.003+05:30

There hasn't been an update on MnA for some time now. So, I suppose a post on what we have been up to is in order.

We have been quite active lately, and if some of the current discussions bear fruit, should get even more busy in the coming weeks. It's great to get work, and get appreciated for that work, without pretty much any specific pitching or publicity till now.

And it's more heartening because we are not exactly quoting basement remuneration for our quizzes. We don't overcharge, but we put in sincere effort for every single quiz, and we ask for what we feel is reasonable for that effort, and we have been invited above people who quoted much lower than us in recent times. We must be doing something right. To not have had a single experience till date where our quiz has not been appreciated adds all that much more to the effort.

Apart from the increase in number of cities our weekly Hindustan Times quiz goes to, we have done one corporate quiz and two college quizzes in the last few weeks.

We did three quizzes based on the Tata Crucible format for Ispat Industries. It was very enjoyable, and it's always nice to associate with a leading corporate house.

The next gig was for NIT Surat - a general quiz for their technical fest, on the 2nd of October. We have been trying to expand our presence to more colleges in Western India, and it was a pleasure doing a quiz for NIT Surat, a college which has had some of the country's best college quizzers in the not so distant past.

Of course, we have to mention that because of unavoidable circumstances both Menon and I could not be there for the quiz, but we did ensure that the event went smoothly by getting one of our friends - a well known figure in the quizzing circles - to do it on our behalf.

And, finally, I was in Lucknow over the weekend to conduct an open quiz at Varchasva, IIM Lucknow's sports-cum-cultural meet. I loved the experience - the campus is beautiful and reminded me of Joka - and the response from the participants was extremely encouraging too. I have known so many people from IIM Lucknow over the years, and it was awesome to be there finally.

So, it's been a very rewarding last few weeks, not only monetarily, but also in terms of being at new places, sharing the joys of quizzing. Hoping for tons of more interesting experiences in the near future.

Palestine and Kashmir

2010-09-21T23:11:00.008+05:30

It makes my blood boil at times when people treat me with polite amusement when I start sounding all passionate about graphic novels. There are an amazingly high number of people who seem to not realize that it is a medium that can say so much, so effectively, and is not only about superheroes wearing their undies over their leotards.

Not that undies over leotard type comic books are things to scoff at.

This is very similar to the life-long irritation I have had with people who consider fiction a waste of time, and utter with great pride that they read only biographies or books like the one about the monk who sold his Ferrari.

Maybe such people should read one of those graphic novels that have the ability to change your complete perception of the medium, with not many graphic novel artists probably being more effective than Joe Sacco. I have been a fan of some of his previous works like Safe Area Gorazde, Palestine and Notes from a Defeatist, all of which hold a special position of pride on my bookshelf.

But, his latest creation - Footnotes in Gaza - is quite something else even in the light of the brilliant work he has done over the years. The hardcover edition is a 400-plus page wrist-sprainer of a book, which deals with two forgotten incidents of massacre of Palestinians by Israeli forces.

These incidents occurred in the 1950s during the Suez Canal Crisis, and Sacco deserves great credit for making the effort of traveling to Gaza Strip, talking to the residents there in detail and chronicling all of it for us. Because the incidents really had been relegated to footnotes of UN reports over the years otherwise.

People have a habit of forgetting things, no matter how traumatic. Especially if the traumatic incidents keep hitting you incessantly over decades. For a community, large parts of which has not known any reasonably long period of peace, the massacres of Khan Younis and Rafah might just be a blink in their painful history, but, as Sacco says in the foreword, it goes a long way in understanding how 'hatred was planted in the hearts' of the people of Palestine.

I was in Iraq when the First Intifada was on, and the understandably pro-Palestine Iraqi media would give a lot of coverage to those young boys throwing stones and crude Molotov Cocktails at the Israeli forces. I had never seen unrest like that on TV before. And, unsure of the historical context though I was, I used to wonder what kind of dissatisfaction would make young people come out on streets like that and face armed forces fearlessly. It seemed like the last act of desperation - the final step you took after you realized that nothing else could save you. Nothing else could make others hear your side of the story.

So, over the last few months, it has been extremely spooky seeing fairly similar clips from Kashmir. Reading Footnotes in Gaza, I am forced to think if, irrespective of cross-border instigation, India has really been remotely as inhuman to Kashmiris as the Israelis were to the Palestinians. So much so that the young boys there too would come out on the streets to throw stones at our forces.

I understand that the situation is much too complicated for me to make a general comparison like that.

But, I hope people in Kashmir don't hate me as badly as the people in Rafah hate an Israeli.

Random Thought

2010-09-05T23:14:00.004+05:30

This is part of a song I had learned in Class V and it just came to me suddenly for some reason -

Kasturi mrig ki naabhi mein,
Moorakh dhoonde van jhaadi mein.
Khota bhatak bhatak nij praan,
Mile man mandir mein bhagwaan

The Last Man

2010-09-02T23:27:00.003+05:30

I just realized that two of Brian K Vaughan's most brilliant graphic novel series - Y: The Last Man and Ex Machina - are being made into films.

The man also wrote Pride of Baghdad, which remains one of my most loved short series. And the man also wrote a few episodes of Lost, but I haven't been following the series after the first couple of seasons because it got too confusing. Will probably buy DVDs of the entire series.

Y: The Last Man is a story that gave me goose-bumps. The story of a man being left alone in a world filled with women is got to be one horrifying tale. But, the way its many chains were handled and brought to satisfying closure it made one feel fortunate to have witnessed the creation of a milestone in graphic novel writing.

Ex Machina, in many ways, is similar to Y: The Last Man, particularly in terms of the various trails of stories it keeps leaving and picking up. I have not come to the end of the chain yet, so don't know if I'll be completely satisfied, but the episodes till now have been worth the devotion.

Coming back to Y: The Last Man, I can still recall the evening I read the last issue of the series. I was crying. I named my best friend Ampersand that night. And hopefully he understood.

It has been one of the most satisfying and gratifying graphic novel experiences of my life. And, I would love to see how it shapes up on the big screen. I am sure I'll crib about some issue with the film version, but it's a story that needs to be experienced by more people, even if in the form of a film and not in its original one.

Sherlock

2010-09-01T23:22:00.003+05:30

Been having a bit of a pop-culture overdose lately. And I am not complaining.

Have read some, or parts of some, great graphic novels. Partly read some novels. Partly seen some TV series and movies. As you can tell, I have been distracted a lot.

But, one series I watched completely - it helped that the first season had just three 90-minute long episodes - has been Sherlock. It's a recent BBC series that's been renewed for the 2nd season too.

If you have ever liked the original Sherlock Holmes stories the least bit, and how could you not, then you ought to watch this modern retelling of the Holmes-Watson saga. Mycroft Holmes has a more prominent role than I recall from the original stories, and then there's the wicked Moriarty too, who makes his appearance in the final episode in a very inventive manner.

One of the first non-child stories I read was The Hound of the Baskervilles, when I was all of 7 years old. I remember sitting on the couch in our living room in the afternoon, alone in the house for all practical purposes as my 2 year old sister was fast asleep (parents were at work), and I kept looking over my shoulder for that beast to pounce on me. Been in love with Dr Doyle's stories since then.

Have seen several film and TV versions of the stories over the years, but none hits the spot as well as this newest BBC version.

Benedict Cumberbatch seems to have been born to play Holmes, and is more than ably aided by Martin Freeman's Watson. You might remember Freeman from that awkward Tim from the original The Office.

If for some reason you have put a restriction on yourself for watching just one TV series this year, do yourself a favor - watch Sherlock.

Zandu Balm

2010-08-30T22:51:00.006+05:30

You know, when I first heard about Sonakshi Sinha making her debut with a Salman Khan starrer called Dabangg, my thought was - well, there goes another starlet. Didn't she learn anything from Sneha Ullal and Zarine Khan? And considering her brother made a rather forgettable debut, I didn't have much hopes from the other Shatru bhaiya offspring either. But the Bihari (and Sindhi) girl might just do us proud.

After having seen the trailers multiple times and having listened to Munni Badnaam Hui, I can't wait enough for September 10th, when it will be out. Of course, I should admit here that I absolutely loved Wanted and do think Salman Khan has the ability to carry off some really corny stuff (haven't seen Veer though, and have no intention to). But, the crazy thing is I don't even consider Dabangg, from what I have seen of it, to be in that same corny territory. Yes, it's going to be a full-blown masala movie. Yes, it will play to the gallery. Yes, people in single screen halls will throw coins at it (I hope they still do it). But, it reeks of such awesomeness.

And Sonakshi Sinha's smile is quite off the scales. As is her forehead.

I will kill Arbaaz Khan if this movie sucks.

Who the hell is John Roy Hill btw? Google says he is on Facebook, but it surely can't be the same man who apparently said - WHEN YOU LOSE THE FEAR OF DEATH, LIFE BEGINS

Tamarind Rice

2010-08-29T21:47:00.003+05:30

I normally feel inspired enough to write here either when I am really happy or feeling really low. Thankfully it's happy right now. Of course, having read the post you would realize that it takes very little to make me really happy. Or really sad for that matter. Sometimes nothing at all.

The reason for my happiness right now is that I made some absolutely brilliant Puliyogare. It's tamarind rice from Karnataka, and even though I used the ready-made Puliyogare mix available in the market rather than preparing all the ingredients myself, it still feels great to make something so delicious in my kitchen.

And, I am also glad I used ghee instead of the oil the recipe on the back of the packet instructed. The best South Indian food ought to be had with ghee not some refined sunflower oil.

Even though the Wiki article says that it's meant to be had as a snack, it goes very well with bhindi (as I tried it last night) or shimla mirch ki sabzi (as I am trying tonight).

I have always felt that people living South of the Vindhyas have a better deal when it comes to food. Not only do they have the amazing variety of dishes from their respective states, most South Indian cities today seem to have restaurants that serve really good North Indian food too. And if you are in Hyderabad, you are living in culinary heaven. Because, according to me, the Hyderabadi Biryani is the epitome of Indian cuisine.

But, in the north, and by that I mean even in a city as cosmopolitan as Mumbai, one pines for a place that would serve a half-decent Bisi Bele Bath. North India's understanding of 'South Indian' food seems to be limited to a satisfying breakfast of idli-vada or masala dosa.

To be fair to some of the Udupi joints in Mumbai, and even in Delhi, they do serve some exquisite dosas, and even quite reasonably edible sambhars, but after having lived in Bangalore, I know they are not the real thing. The road-side minimal darshinis serve better stuff there. And even if the joints in Mumbai were authentic, I wish they would go beyond the basic idli-dosa stuff. There's so much more to food from every region in the South, which is largely lost on us uncouth Northies, who are wont to douse every thing in oil and garam masala.

Ok, I am being a little too unfair to North Indian food now. I know Bihari food (and am not even talking about Litti-Chokha) is quite something and so are dishes from other parts of North India, but it just gets my goose that finding good authentic food from the South is so difficult here. A good avial or meen moilee should not be so difficult to come by in this city, without having to shell out a large fraction of my salary on an upmarket fine dining restaurant!

Ah well, I'll get going with my Puliyogare then. Can't resist the inviting fragrance anymore.

Missing Topi

2010-08-08T00:43:00.009+05:30

I have been wanting to make a post on the magazines I love reading, but like everything else I want to write about I get bored midway through the post and move on to something else.

But, I chanced upon this piece by Aatish Taseer in this week's Lounge, the HT Mint supplement that I am a huge fan of, and felt like writing about it. The piece as well as the weekly.

First about Lounge. It is by far the most intelligent supplement that any newspaper has in India. Considering that Mint is by far the most intelligent newspaper in India, it might not come as a surprise, but the wide range of topics Lounge covers, and the phenomenally great columnists it has on its menu, it deserves mention several times more. If nothing else, just the fact that a mainstream paper comes out with a weekly column that very often talks, very intelligently at that, about graphic novels must be a proof of how great it is.

And now coming to the piece itself, which is about the moderate Pakistan. It took me back to the short time I had spent there in the spring of 2006. Pakistan is a beautiful country, almost as much as India, and it is one of humankind's greatest tragedies that the two countries are not together. For we could have achieved so much more if we had not wasted so much time fighting each other.

It is also a waste because we are so alike. One story I love narrating is how my friends and I were having a great time talking to people around us in Urdu till the time we crossed the border at Wagah and came to India where we could not understand anything because everyone was talking in Punjabi.

Personally, walking around in Lahore, singing obscure Hindi film songs on the bus trip to and from NWFP with other students, enjoying some random gupp-baazi after the debates on the rain-soaked stairs of Ghulam Ishaq Khan Institute, even the abuse from that woman whom I accidentally dropped coke on during the bus trip back to Lahore - it all seems part of another world now. A world I miss every day, for I don't think I will ever get to go there again.

A world we are unfortunately doomed to see as foreign. When we could have been brothers.

Believe them when they tell you - 'Jine Lahore nai dekhya, o janmya nai'.

Ek Udaan

2010-07-18T21:21:00.006+05:30

When I was in school in Iraq I had this classmate of mine whose mother was our English teacher. She was a decent teacher, but the reason I remember her now is because she used to slap her son in front of us in the class. It used to be painful seeing it. Her son, my friend, was quite intelligent, and not being so would not still be reason enough for that sort of cruelty, but I could never figure out why she would subject her son to such humiliation in front of his classmates. And the most harmless of things would prompt the beating. He would be so ashamed of his daily beatings in the morning that he would rarely come out to play in the evening with us. Even at that time, and we were just about 8-9 years old then, we could feel that she was unhappy with herself and that's why she would beat her son.

This came to me today after watching Udaan.

It's a beautiful film. Not the least for some of the best acting I have seen in a Hindi film in recent times. But also because it hit home in some way.

No, my parents were (are) much much better than Rohan's father in the film (who goes to rather unbelievable extents of cruelty), and I sometimes wish they were a little cruel, for it might just justify my craziness, and selfishness, but it hit home because unlike many of my friends from Delhi, Kolkata, Bangalore and Mumbai, I know what growing up in a place like Jamshedpur is.

Of course, Jamshedpur stands in for hundreds of small Indian towns where thousands of people dream and then give up. I have come to take for granted a lot of things I have been given in my life and am wont to forget that so many others I knew, a lot more talented, a lot more capable, will take up that dreary job in the factory, will get married, will have children and will hope to see their children achieve what they could not. And then their children would repeat the same thing, maybe move a notch higher if they are lucky, but still lead stifled lives.

Jamshedpur is actually a lot more happening than the movie portrays it to be. I had my first pizza there, way back in 1991. I grew up in a township about 80km from the place, and it used to represent a weekend of freedom when we would take a monthly trip to my aunt's place, having that fabulous south Indian breakfast at Anand restaurant in Bistupur, having lunch occasionally at Kwality, buying audio cassettes for the latest hits, buying a comic or novel at that small shop in the basement of Kamani Centre, going through the collection of Commando comics that my cousins had - Jamshedpur was almost like being in New York for someone growing in the backyard of Jharkhand.

Jamshedpur also represents the pain that preparing for JEE was the first time around (I moved to Kota after a failed first attempt, stopped living for 9 months, and cracked the exam). My Brilliant Tutorials centre was in the town and making those periodic trips to the place knowing that I would do badly in the mock tests, gradually losing all hope and confidence in my chance to get to an IIT, that perceived gateway to a life of prosperity - so many young students must go through that.

I wanted to take up Arts after Class X. Study Literature. Write. But, you see, I was good in studies. Science made more sense. But then, that's a story we have heard so often and is hardly worth talking about.

I also saw Inception this weekend. The movie will go on to become one of the most talked about movies of the year, if not of our generation. But I think Udaan is a better movie. It's about dreams we actually saw.

I love it when a film makes me go all crazy. That is what films are for.

Chicken marinated in rum and cooked in coconut milk

2010-07-17T20:54:00.005+05:30

That's what I cooked for dinner tonight. Inspired by a Discovery Travel & Living show's episode on Caribbean food.

And it tastes beautiful. I modified the recipe a bit since I forgot to buy lemon-grass and made my own curry powder. I feel really proud, and sated tonight.

The recipe is something like this:

Take around 500 gm of boneless chicken, cut it into bite-sized pieces and add to a bowl with 2 tbsp white rum (I used Bacardi rum, not sure if that is the right one to use, but it turned out fine), 2 tbsp fresh lime juice and 2 tsp garlic paste/minced garlic. Mix the chicken pieces well with the rest of the contents.

Cover with that wrapping plastic sheet (can't recall exactly what it's called) and leave in the refrigerator for marinating for around 2 hours.

For cooking, chop one large-ish onion into fine pieces and add to 2 tbsp of heated oil. Saute on medium flame for 5 minutes or so. Add the chicken pieces and the liquid remaining in the bowl, cook till the pieces change color and turn soft.

Add 1 tbsp curry powder. Which in my case was made of cumin powder, coriander powder, a bit of turmeric, a bit of black pepper powder and some garam masala. And some salt.

Mix well, and then pour in around 150 ml of coconut milk. Cook for around 5 minutes till the chicken reaches the required softness.

Serve with steamed rice.

And fly.

Two films and a soundtrack

2010-07-05T02:03:00.003+05:30

There are these green, very green, oasis-like days in a life pretty much dry, brown, desert-like that make you thankful for being alive.

I saw two brilliant movies today and listened to a soundtrack that just blew me away, and I just had to write here about them.

I read the Ebert review on Shutter Island immediately after the film was over and was pleased to see that he also noticed the similarity with King Kong in the first scene. The sense of foreboding as the boat approaches the island, those amazing camera shots set the piece just right. A beautiful movie. It gives me goosebumps to see that someone as feted as Scorsese still loves being a child so much. I wish I could meet him some day.

The other movie I saw today was Toy Story 3. Apart from my persistent fascination with how Pixar keeps throwing trumps every year, I also loved a very personal chord that this film touched. That feeling of leaving the familiar environs of the place you went to school at, for college, has never been portrayed better anywhere else. I miss those days badly - the luxury to waste time. Things changed so much after I left for Delhi.

But, the best part of the day was listening to the soundtrack of Udaan. This is such a mind-blowing compilation that I felt guilty for having downloaded the album off the net. I am going to buy a CD of the songs soon. And I really look forward to the film, coming out on July 16. A film with songs like these can't be worth not seeing. A film-maker with music sense like this is worth looking out for.

To repeat what I just told a friend of mine on GTalk, Amit Trivedi is the new Rahman. In fact, I almost look forward to his new tracks now more eagerly than I do Rahman's. There surely can't be a bigger compliment.

Meetha Sa Chadha Hai Bukhaar...

2010-06-26T23:30:00.003+05:30

Does it happen to you that a song that you heard some time back hits you suddenly in as mad a rush as the Mumbai rains?

It happens to me.

Very often.

I am not an expert on the intricacies of what constitutes a great song, but I do fall in love with songs once in a while. Like people tend to fall in love with other people for no rhyme or reason.

And then I fall out of love. As people tend to do. For no rhyme and reason again.

These days I am in love, for no reason I can explain, with O Pardesi from DevD. It's a beautiful sultry song that asks me to make love with it every time I hear it. I have multiple orgasms listening to it, and I keep playing it in an infinite loop on my iPod Touch.

I don't even dare to watch the clip from the film on YouTube for I am afraid I might die of happiness.

Ok, it's been 10 minutes since I listened to the song, and I need to get back for my fix now.

Nainon mein sapne hajaar, and all that...

Nihari (and Butter Chicken) in Mumbai

2010-06-16T18:00:00.004+05:30

I had made a memorable trip to Pakistan with college friends in 2006, and during our stay in Lahore, our host had helped us do a round of some of the best eating joints in the city. One of those memorable experiences included a breakfast of hot, soft Nihari and Khameeri Roti. A decidedly heavy meal, which still makes my mouth water on occasions.

Having spent a few years in Delhi, I also had the good fortune of trying out Nihari in the Jama Masjid area, but the less than clean environs do not encourage one to make frequent trips.

So, I had been looking for a long time for a clean eating joint that serves great Nihari - a dish very likely to figure among the top contenders when shortlisting a menu for gods.

And since I am writing all this here, it must be obvious that I have finally found a place like that in Mumbai.

The Lokhandwala outlet of Jaffer Bhai's Delhi Darbar does not have a seating arrangement yet, and I had to make a long pilgrimage from my flat in Goregaon East to the place and back before I could partake of the divine food, but it was all worth the trouble in the end.

The soft, succulent piece of meat accompanied with the delicious Khameer ki Roti made the one hour of combating Mumbai's weekend traffic a small price to pay.

And the gravy! The rich, thick gravy, sprinkled with green chillies, is not for the faint-hearted. A few hours after my lunch, I was already missing its taste.

The chicken biryani - one of the better ones I have had in Mumbai - and the shahi tukda - an absolute must after a good dum biryani - added to the beauty of the meal.

If you like (love) non-veg food, not having tried the Nihari at Jaffer Bhai's is unforgivable. The chain has outlets in other parts of Mumbai as well, where they also have full-fledged restaurants.

And this was on Saturday. I was back in Lokhandwala the next day. Their butter chicken is almost as memorable.

To think I still haven't tasted their Paya (which they make only in the evenings) and Khichda and so much else.

Rajneeti, and Aloo ka Bhujiya

2010-06-05T14:43:00.006+05:30

Two things I think Rajneeti could have significantly improved upon were the editing and the dialogues.

The film felt unbearably long at times. In fact, when the interval sign came up on the screen, I could hear several people exclaim, "What, abhi interval hi hua hai!". But, one can excuse the length given the large number of important characters and so much happening between them. The Chopras took tens of episodes to cover the stretch of Mahabharat that this film covers in around 3 hours.

The dialogue, on the other hand, can't find refuge in any such excuse. Except for some rare moments of brilliance, I felt the dialogues did not pack the punch that the situations, the characters or the film itself deserved.

But, barring these small issues, and Arjun Rampal's wooden-ness (and even that seemed less wooden here), the film was a very enjoyable experience. Thankfully, I didn't go by Raja Sen's review and went ahead with the late night booking. I feel he was unnecessarily sarcastic and critical of a film that is a great watch not only because of the deliciously cruel and human characters it is populated with, but also the fun one has in drawing parallels with the original Mahabharat. Like Bharti's first son being born out of wedlock after a night spent with someone called Bhaskar, whom she worships like a God.

Raja Sen's review made me feel if he is being paid now to write reviews making fun of films, just as Nikhat Kazmi and Taran Adarsh seem to be in the pay of Bollywood to write glowing ones.

What I like about Prakash Jha's movies is this rawness that seeps through the frames. That rawness might seem to have dulled, with an out-of-place item number, where Katrina Kaif does her patented shimmying moves (you know, those ones where her hair is untied, blown by some unseen industrial size fan, she looks down, looks at you, smiles coyly?) almost providing the nadir of the man who started off with Daamul.

The traces of that rawness that are to be found here are deeply cherished. Even though chief-ministerial candidates getting down to shootouts and vindictive baseball bat sessions might seem far-fetched, the other bits of naked greed and ambition were extremely enjoyable. Especially considering that all happens within one family. So much for the Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham brand of cinema.

Even though Kalyug remains the best Mahabharat adaptation into modern life, Rajneeti does not do a tawdry job either. Any film that is well-made, largely well-paced and well-acted, and has almost no character, like Mahabharat, and like real life, completely fault-less, ought to be encouraged.

An experience with a film like this is like eating dal, bhaat and aloo ka bhujiya. It hits the right spot, even if the bhujiya might be a little too oily or the rice slightly under-cooked. Unlike most other good Hindi films today, which might be momentarily delicious like a pizza, but not what the body truly craves for.

***Spoiler Alert***

I did hope for a while that it would be revealed at the end that Indu was responsible for the death of Prithvi and Sarah - ek teer se do nishaane, getting the seat (CM's) and the meat (Ranbir's, if you may allow the rhyming) - maybe with the help of Brij. Draupadi and Krishna finally doing what they should have all those eons ago.

Also, Prakash Jha makes a Hitchcockian (or Ghai-an, if you prefer) cameo appearance towards the end of the film. Can't recall him doing that in any of his earlier films.

Mani Order

2010-05-29T00:01:00.004+05:30

I had met Mani Ratnam during his visit to our campus at IIMC a couple of years back, and have been in touch with his team ever since. Got a chance to see his newest release today. Helped by a special invite, you might want to know, to an exclusive premiere.

Raavan has to be the most quixotic film Mani sir has ever made. I am known to be biased against Amitabh Bachchan's son and daughter-in-law, neither of whom can act to save their lives, but who manage somehow.

Till now at least.

Abhishek Bachchan outdoes himself in the film. In overacting. If Mani sir hadn't been sitting beside me I would have probably walked out 1/3rd into the film. It's an insult seeing Abhishek Bachchan get another chance to come on the screen. He is just too bad.

The rest of the film, including the regularly idiotic Aishwarya Rai, is a lot more bearable. Now I know why she would want to act with her husband in films. It just hides her inadequate talents.

Sushmita Sen must burn so much (partly responsible for her tan) every time she sees Ash hamming through another role, and bagging all decent roles.

Friends

2010-05-24T22:59:00.005+05:30

This must be the official pushing-away-friends week.

I very often feel that I am multiple people living within me. At least two different people. And the more stupid one, the one who is probably writing this, is the more dominant one.

I told a friend, whom I always want to meet and love immensely, that I was in Bangalore over the weekend. Even though I was whiling away time on a rare free weekend in Mumbai.

I haven't replied to this girl I knew in school, who was a close friend, and whose name I have been googling for ages to get a clue on where she was, and who finally mailed me this week. The last time I corresponded with her was in 2000. Because I am not sure I want to show her who I am now.

Have been avoiding talking to a close friend from engineering because I just don't know what to talk about.

And I have been trying to pick up fights deliberately with the friend I value the most.

And I can't control any of it. I really can't.

Maybe this is an apology.

But, we are like this wonly.

Beera!

2010-04-24T02:05:00.003+05:30

It's kind of unfortunate that I so look forward to a movie despite it having the irritating Aishwarya Rai and the even-more-irritating Abhishek Bachchan.

Of course, if I knew Tamil I would have watched the Tam version, which I am sure is going to be better.

In the meantime, listen to Beera (http://rapidshare.com/files/379327415/Raavan__2010_.rar).

Consult Focused

2010-04-12T22:09:00.003+05:30

Please do read the post below, where I appear to be a heartless capitalist bastard, but say, and more importantly, don't say, enough to show that I might not just be one.

I just found a few interesting articles that I really wished to share here, before I forgot, and hence this abrupt increase in frequency between consecutive posts.

Vibhor mailed me this link to a series of articles written by an MIT alumnus called Keith Yost, who worked for The Boston Consulting Group in Dubai for a few months and got back to Boston a lot wiser.

He writes extremely well, and even though I feel he is being a bit too harsh on Dubai, and way too harsh on BCG, thanks in no small measure to the immediate surge of antagonistic feelings one is bound to experience when leaving a job or a posting (refer my posts on Bangalore from last year), I enjoyed reading his articles on life in Dubai and life as a consultant.

Dubai's artificiality I can vouch for, and have written about more than once earlier. There can be few places I despise more.

BCG, on the other hand, is an interesting pack of people. Would reserve my comments on it. And other similar firms, who are the easiest targets for disillusioned grads from the top colleges across the world who think of themselves in more complimentary terms than they ought to.

Leaving Vidarbha

2010-04-11T22:55:00.007+05:30

It might be evident that suicide is one of my favorite topics. I am intrigued by the various reasons why a person would want to end his/her life. In that spirit, I have been trying to understand the Vidarbha farmer suicides, including visiting some parts of the region because of some work-related assignment recently, and I have come across some startling facts. Startling for me, at least.

Most of the farmers who are committing suicide had a much better standard of living compared to farmers in backward states like Bihar, UP and Orissa. They owned significantly large pieces of land, their families owned cell phones, they had married off their daughters in grand style.

In fact, just taking loans to hold grand marriages so that neighbors would not consider them poor was the reason for so much misery. Relying purely on cash crops - like cotton and soybean, alcoholism, sending sons to private colleges they could not afford - these are just some of the reasons I had not realized were responsible for the much-publicized deaths.

Farmers were just living beyond the means they could afford to, and many took their lives, without thinking about the wives and daughters they were leaving behind, because they could not bear to not afford those means any more. Many were expecting that the compensation their families would get from the government after their deaths would help tide over the situation.

I cannot feel any degree of support for these people. Yes, there might be genuine cases of destitution in Vidarbha, where excessive reliance on unsustainable crops or belief in the wrong kind of financial institutions might have caused farmers to hang themselves or eat pesticides, but it largely comes across as another crop of Indians stretching their feet beyond what the bed-sheet permits.

The problem is not so much from the Government's side, as many self-righteous NGOs and social reformers allege, but from within. Tackle alcoholism. Teach the farmers to live within their means. Let them know that marrying your daughter by taking unserviceable loans is not intelligent. That might help save some lives.

Only some though. The impression I also get is that the situation has reached a tipping point where men almost unanimously feel that killing themselves is a good way to handle relatively temporary difficult times. It is a scary situation when a large chunk of the population decides to give up and not fight instead.

Reading Hood

2010-04-01T13:24:00.004+05:30

I read Sidin Vadukut's Dork recently. That and responses from some of the people who have read the books by Arnab Ray and Fake IPL Player have sort of convinced me that it might not be a great idea of asking every popular blogger to pen down a book. Writing a blog-post for laughs/comments and writing a book that, apart from other differences, people would have to pay for are two different things. One sure can be good at both, but being good at one does not certify being good at the other.

Dork was not unreadable, and really quite enjoyable in parts. But, at many points the antics seemed extremely forced and unnatural. As if the publisher had rushed Vadukut to make a submission by a deadline. All said and done, though, the book is among the better ones churned out by IIT and/or IIM grads in the last few years. Maintaining even this for a trilogy (why does every new writer have to come up with a trilogy!) might be too painful though. For the readers.

The whole premise of The GameChangers sounds like a bad idea. I have not read the book, but just rehashing stuff from the blog, very obviously to make a quick buck in the IPL season, does not a good book make.

As far as Arnab Ray's book is concerned, I have read bits of it, which bit me enough to not try reading the whole thing. I have not exactly been one of his fans, and feel that his writing is way too over-rated. He comes up with some funny stuff once in a while, the instances of which have gotten rarer over the years, maybe because of the constant pressure to amuse the many regular readers waiting thirsty for some drop of humor in their lives, no matter how dull and stretched the joke might be.

I do appreciate his ability to poke fun at all sorts of cows, holy or not, which is always a good thing in our times, when everyone has a reason or two to get offended.

So, what I have been reading instead are some very good books. Just finished Heart Shaped Box by Joe Hill. A plot that essentially revolves around a killer ghost being bought by a retired rock star, who then tries to find a way to save himself, his girl-friend and two dogs, driving across a stretch of America, pursued by the ghost in his own ghost truck sounds extremely corny. And I would not have tried this out if I hadn't just got done with Hill's 20th Century Ghosts - a collection of some brilliant short stories - some time back. But, if writing spooky stories can be genetically inherited, Joe Hill has the best genes possible. His dad's Stephen King.

I also recently read Handling the Undead by John Ajvide Lindquist, the Swedish writer who had written Let the Right One In. Just as the latter is a unique take on vampires, Handling the Undead is a curious tale of the dead coming back to life. With very little actual 'action', unlike what we would expect after having seen films like Dawn of the Dead, the book is a look at how normal people react in such a situation.

These days, I am alternating between Way to Go by Upamanyu Chatterjee and An Englishman's Cameo by Madhulika Liddle. I have liked Chatterjee's writing, even if not all his books, ever since I read the phenomenal English, August. Very often, the sum of the parts of his books ends up being less than the parts themselves. As in, there are parts that are just brilliant, and the manner in which he describes extremely mundane happenings - an FIR with the local police in the first scene of Way to Go, for instance - is something I have not seen any other Indian writer be able to do. He has this knack of observing things that we see but do not register consciously. And end up having a sense of deja vu when we read it in his books.

Way to Go has started off on an interesting note, but remains to be seen how long it can maintain that.

Madhulika Liddle's book is a murder mystery set in Shahjahan's kingdom. I am through the first 80 or so pages of the 270-odd, and the investigation by the young and handsome Muzaffar Jang is still in its early stages. He has just spent some quality time with the courtesan Mehtab Banu, and we can look forward to some good sleuthing. No idea who the Englishman is.

I would have preferred the book to be darker, more in the zone of My Name is Red, but the tone here is not un-enjoyable either. I doubt if every custom, nuance of language, geographical and structural detail in the book is authentic, but the author has made a great effort and the sheen never fades off.

Next up is Agassi's Open.

In the recent series of interviews I conducted with B-school candidates, it was painful to see that even those who would mention reading as one of their interests had not gone beyond Dan Brown and Chetan Bhagat. It was just too dull talking to them about books in most cases.

I had once read an old mail from an alumnus who had been involved with the IIMC interview process about how he and the professors felt that the young just don't seem to have any interesting interests anymore. No one has any passion. No one goes beyond the common. The same books, the same sports, the same films, everything. I can't recall the exact theme of the mail, but it was roughly about the same dullness.

It made me feel quite old, but I had the same feeling during these interviews.

Life

2010-03-27T00:05:00.004+05:30

I got to know a few days back that a girl I knew in my engineering college days died recently. She took her own life. I didn't know her too well. But, I knew her.

In my final final year in Delhi, I had too much time on my hands, and I had joined an NGO that worked towards creating awareness about suicide. My job there was to talk to people who contacted the NGO for help. These people were on the verge of killing themselves, but had enough will to hold on to something.

That girl I knew, and had spoken to a few times, lost that will sometime last week.

She was a very good student. Belonged to a not so well-to-do family. Parents wanted to marry her off. I felt she preferred being with women. Her marriage was fixed. I got to speak with her 4-5 times in February-March 2006. She had got married a few months after I left Delhi. She wanted badly to escape. She finally did.

I had contacted that NGO because I needed to get some sanity in my own life. After the craziness that my last couple of years in Delhi involved, I had given up a lot of hope. Just talking to people there helped a lot. I am a fair bit suicidal myself, but I have never gone to the limit of actually getting close to dying. A few cuts, a few rat-poison induced nose bleeds are mostly enough to give me enough of a scare. But, when I felt I was going beyond these relatively harmless limits, I sought help. I recovered, thanks in no small measure to some very important friends. It was suggested that, having been through those killer times, I should talk to others in similar situations. It was very cathartic, and probably helped some other people too, in that they found someone who was not judgmental.

During those painful years, what I realized was that the worst thing you can do to a person contemplating suicide is to tell him that suicide is for cowards. It really does not help. Very often, a person thinking of taking his own life is at the absolute bottom of self-worth. Telling him that the one resolution he can think of will only make him appear even worse cannot be of help. It might appear like an attempt at simplifying something that is really a lot more complex, but just listening is a lot more helpful.

A person inherently does not want to die. It is difficult to imagine how caged one must feel to take that step. Most people also do think of what effect it might have on their loved ones - their parents, friends, everyone who came to know them. To ignore all of this, to ignore all the pain, to just give up not being there tomorrow in the scheme of things - it's not an easy decision. It is taken only when multiple calls for help are not heeded. It is taken only when everything else seems pointless.

During my association with the NGO a school girl had jumped to death from her 5th floor flat because she thought she had not done well in her Boards. I had spoken to her two days before she died. It is not a great thing knowing that there might have been a chance I could have convinced her to live.

It is still not a great thing four years down. I am sorry Sakshi.

Food, Quizzing, My Life

2010-03-25T17:30:00.000+05:30

I'm slightly worried right now because a recent visitor to my blog from Denver, CO, came here after searching on Google for "I let my young son play with my cock". I hope he was referring to the poultry at his farmhouse.

Anyway, to each his own daddy.

As someone implied on Twitter, the hiatus has indeed been partly because of a marriage. But not mine. Was away for a cousin's marriage. That was only for 3-4 days though. Some work-related submissions, some personal work and some work-life issues were responsible too. Plus, we did a couple of quizzes for NIT Durgapur at their Tech Fest, Aarohan. But, I am back now and that should make you very happy, no?

A good amount of my time lately has gone into mock interviewing candidates for various B-schools. It's more fun than anything else that I have done lately. And I get paid for it too. Met some amazing people, both as interviewees or co-panelists.

I like it that way - meet people for a brief while, get to know about them, have a bit of good time, and then move on. No pain of being in touch, maintaining relationships, with all and sundry. If someone's really great, you can stay in contact and get together for drinks/dinner once in a while. If really great. Everyone gets painful after some time though. The time it takes to get painful varies, that's all.

Been doing the usual stuff, watching films, reading. And cooking. My cooking skills have improved considerably over the last few weeks. But, I can't bear to cook the usual aloo-baingan and aloo-matar. Not that cooking them is any easier than cooking Thai red curry mix vegetable, but it's just too boring to do all the pre-cooking cutting and post-cooking cleaning for something that my bai can make with her eyes shut. So, only (slightly) exotic stuff for me. I am still not confident enough to make others eat what I have cooked though.

Auto Know Better

2010-02-11T17:45:00.002+05:30

A question that I get asked almost as often as "When are you getting married?" is "So what car are you buying?". I find both questions as unnecessary as people asking "Wassup?" or "How are you doing?". And hence merit no reply.

But, maybe a blog post.

At least the car question.

Buying a car is like having a baby. Far too many people do it just because they can.

I think most people will do this world a whole lot good if they didn't buy a car, just as many others would if they did not have a baby. They don't know how to care for one, how to treat one or how to ride one. Car, not baby.

A car is hardly aspirational anymore. Every goddamned person can afford one. And then one more. It's just another machine like a microwave or a TV meant to provide some help.

And practically speaking, especially if you are single, but even otherwise, having a car probably ends up being more a hassle than a help. In a city like Mumbai particularly, where the public modes of transportation are fairly decent, it makes a lot of sense to not add to the traffic even if you can afford to buy a car. Of course, I realize that I might be overlooking some issues like overburdened buses and trains or possible difficulty in getting a cab or rick if a lot more people decided to use them instead of personal cars.

So, I'll just talk at a personal level about my reasons. I can't imagine liking to drive in any city in India. I haven't been to all cities, but have enough experience to make that claim. Heavy traffic, road encroachments, potholed roads, no lane discipline - this is the stuff that a taxi driver's dreams might be made of, but I would rather stick to horror stories that I see on the screen than on the road.

I don't think I have the patience to engage everyday with all the frustrated drivers, pedestrians, stray dogs and other assorted creatures that inhabit our roads on my way to work or back, and still be able to work properly. I enjoy sitting back in a rickshaw or cab and looking at the hoardings or reading on my phone or watching something on my laptop.

Apart from the in-use hassles that driving on most city roads in India entails, the maintenance and servicing of a car is just too much extra work. Getting hit by someone, hitting someone yourself, arguments, insurance, being fleeced by the auto-mechanic, periodic servicing - that's so much precious time lost when I can sit in my living room drinking beer and lazying away. Just parking and then taking it out from the parking is such a headache half the times!

Plus, you are always worried of the car or some part being stolen. Or losing your keys inside. Or the tyre getting punctured at some random place where you have to change the tyre yourself.

One solution to many of these issues could be hiring a driver while you sit back comfortably in your car. Leave the dirty work to lesser mortals. Now that is one option worth exploring.

But, I am not sure I am willing to bear the costs of car loan, petrol AND driver's salary for something I don't need in the first place. If not a rick or a cab, my thumb works just fine.

MnA Activity

2010-02-09T09:42:00.004+05:30

So much to write about, so much lethargy that keeps me from doing it.

But one thing that always gets me excited and makes me want to write is when any of our quizzes get appreciated. Which, thankfully, happens every time we do a quiz.

Menon did a General Quiz at Instruo, the tech-fest at Bengal Engineering and Science University in Howrah on Saturday (6th). Like past MnA quizzes, this one seems to have been a success too. If accounts of Mr Menon's flamboyance are anything to go by.

MnA also came up with (part of) the questions for an internal quiz for The Boston Consulting Group last week. Adds another respectable name to our roster.

We have also done two quizzes so far for o3 Capital, an investment bank. A cricket quiz at their head-quarters in Bangalore, and a general quiz at their off-site in Bangkok. Both were appreciated a lot, and we have had invitations to do more.

And then, I am doing two quizzes for NIT Durgapur in the first week of March. There are some issues related to scheduling that need to be sorted out, but that should not be a major hiccup.

I have gloated about this far too many times earlier, but that won't keep me from doing it more. I (and we) love making and conducting quizzes, and it's great to realize every time that we do it well.

Of Cutting Wrists

2010-01-27T21:20:00.004+05:30

I am watching this film called Wristcutters: A Love Story. It's been just about 20 minutes into the film, and I am sure this is going to be one of my most favorite movies.

The basic premise is one of the most brilliant I have known this side of H2G2. People who commit suicide end up at this limbo kind of place. The male lead cuts his wrists, and ends up working at this pizza joint called Kamikaze Pizza in his afterlife, filled with daily trips to the bar, getting drunk and not doing much.

Another Russian chap, who used to live in the US, and killed himself by pouring liquor into his electric guitar during an under-appreciated rock performance, is living with his mother who took out her intravenous tube because she missed Russia, his father who hanged himself because he missed the mother, and his gay brother who did something because he probably just missed having a good shag.

I would love to stay in this place if it existed really.

We have just discovered that the girl-friend of the male lead also committed suicide. Interesting prospects arise.

While watching the film, these thoughts just came to me:

a) Would all those army men who jump into the battlefield knowing pretty much that their odds of dying are really high end up in such a place?

b) Would all those office people who lead sad, boring lives doing pointless work and dying of a heart-attack for lack of proper exercise end up there too?

c) Would all those idiots who spend their hard-earned money drinking all too much, and screwing up their liver, end up there as well?

If a film has made me think so much in just 20 minutes of its full running time of 1 hour 28 minutes 5 seconds, it must be quite something. Or maybe not, depending on how you look at it. I should be watching the film rather than thinking so much!

Also, hadn't realized that the sight of cut wrists, if they are not yours, is not quite endearing.

Glee

2010-01-19T22:51:00.003+05:30

After a brief period of pinkness, those feelings of chucking my job and doing something more free have resurfaced again. So, my opinion on the TV series might be more than a little biased.

I had heard of Glee, and had checked it out on Wikipedia and IMDb. But, the plot didn't excite me enough to download it. But, winning against 30 Rock, Entourage and, especially, Modern Family counts for something.

So, I downloaded the pilot. The episode's longer than most others in the genre. It even felt boring at times, and I was wondering hard how this could beat Modern Family, which has got to be the most intelligent and entertaining series you haven't seen. Assuming, you have seen Entourage and 30 Rock already.

But, by the time it closed I was a fan. I have spoken more than once about how difficult it is to get the screenplay right. To go for the long jump, but not jump too far onto the hard ground again. This series manages to do that. At least in the pilot. Have to see the rest of the season to know for sure, but if the first season is anything to go by, the HFPA didn't make a very poor decision.

The reason why it strikes close is because it is about a person who could be in accounts and earn more money, but chooses to be a high school teacher.

I am still an Entourage fan though. Even though their last season was very drab.

My Best Friend - II

2010-01-09T20:56:00.003+05:30

Vibhor referred me to this blog. I had been thinking about how pointless it is to write here, and couldn't think of anything to write about, but this post hit me really bad. I am really missing Sheru and Heena now.

My relationship with my family, like with most other people I know, isn't exactly great. We have learned to tolerate each other, and probably share a bit more of our happiness and sadness than we would with a complete stranger, but I have increasingly grown distant from them. Apart from some close cousins, I can't bear meeting any relative. Even the communication with my parents and sister is really minimal. I find it incredible when some of my friends tell me that they call home everyday. So, when I do go home once in a while, I spend most of my time with our dogs. They understand everything. Expect nothing. Of course, since I have largely been away from home since the time these two chaps came into our family, I don't connect with them as much as I had with the earlier Heena.

Had recently read a post by Jai Arjun Singh, where he was talking about Foxie after watching Paa. Dogs really are like living with children with Progeria. From the day they come into your life, you know you will most likely outlive them. You will see them grow from these small, cute pups into sturdy adults and then gradually wither into weakness. And then they'll leave. If you have ever had an animal you loved die, you would know how maddeningly painful it is.

I have had this debate more than once with a close friend, who does not think very highly of having pets, about this 'love' that people profess for dogs, or for any other animal. Do we really love dogs, when we commit them to a life of domesticity, sort of emasculating them and preventing them from living a life of freedom, in the wild, or even around humans but fending for themselves.

I am not sure. I do make the same mistake that many others do - of confusing a dog's dependence on me for food, for taking him out for a walk, for playing with him with a ball, as his love for me. Deriving happiness from treating an animal like a kid, turning a creature into a baby that needs your care and then feeling good about providing that care - does that animal really need it? Isn't that care, that proximity, that understanding you can never share with another human being, more your need than the animal's?

As I said, I don't know. I probably do need that love more than the dog. I probably needed Heena more in my life - to sit with her and talk to (and with) her, to go on long walks with her, to feel the gratification of her telling me that she had missed me when I would come back from a trip, to help me cope with a lot of pain and confusion that growing up was - than she ever needed me or my family.

And I am willing to bear the punishment for having subjected her to a life less free than she might have had otherwise. The pain that punishment would involve, or the much greater pain I undergo every time I think about her and miss her, cannot match up to what she gave me in those 10-11 years she was around.

That is why, even though I know I will be renewing my chances of even more pain in the future by doing this, I wish I will be able to have a dog as a pet once more.

And, I hope Badal comes back. Or at least is happy wherever he is.

Best Films (and Books) of the Year

2009-12-31T11:35:00.002+05:30

I love reading year-end lists. Helps me identify stuff I might have missed. Or tally my favorites with the list-maker. Or just give a last collective thought to things that made the year great.

I didn't watch as many films or read as many books as I have been doing in the last few years. But, the number might still be higher than most people I know. Since there is still a day to go, and since I don't really have much of a partying plan for tonight, the final number is still not signed and sealed.

But, among the movies and books that I have seen and read till last night, here are the ones I liked the most. The list has 18 movies and 6 books. All of them didn't necessarily come out in 2009. I just saw/read them this year (I know because I have maintained a list of all movies and books I have chatofied since 2004).

In no particular order:

Frost/Nixon - For proving that a film can be thrilling even if most of it is about an old American and a younger Brit talking to each other.

Wilde - For Stephen Fry being an even Wilder Wilde than Wilde could have been.

Dev D - For Kalki Koechlin speaking in Tamil on the phone. For helping forget SRK in the Devdas role. For the horniest Paro ever.

Luck By Chance - For that beautiful opening credits sequence. For Farhan Akhtar doing a typical filmy dance number.

Gulaal - For Ransa. For Piyush Mishra's music and lyrics.

Red Cliff I and II - For showing that there is still a lot of juice in a Far-East war film.

Marley & Me - For Marley, the World's Worst Dog.

The Hangover - For making me laugh more than I have watching any other film this year.

Pontypool - For being a zombie film, and still being interesting.

District 9 - For some of the coolest weapons in films. For some of the ugliest creatures in films.

Chintu Ji - For being that small film, which so many more should have watched, and which I almost did not. For Sophiya Chaudhary dancing to Akira Kurosawa (the song).

Inglourious Basterds - For Col. Hans Landa. And for, well, everything else.

Kurbaan - For being a rare Hindi thriller that actually thrills.

Choke - For Sam Rockwell.

Waltz With Bashir - For showing that even non-Nam/Korean/Desert Storm/Afghan war movies are worth talking about. Or maybe more so.

3 Idiots - For being a rare instance where we can say that the movie was better than the book.

Avatar - For Pandora. For Cameron, the King of the World.

Kaminey - For the music. For the Priyanka Chopra. For the Fahid Kapoor.

And then there were books:

The Strain - Even though it got a little tedious towards the end, I still can't believe how scary I found it in the first hundred pages or so.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo - I haven't found the two sequels in the same league as the first book. Maybe because the first one had more than one incestuous, murderous, rich men.

Cujo - Turning a dog into a scary creature is about the most sacrilegious thing Stephen King has done. And one of the most effective.

Cuckold - I had been told it's one of the most under-rated books in Indian Writing in English. I think I agree. It took me a while to figure out who the lady being spoken of in the book is.

Palestine - The graphic novel made me realize how so many people today are paying the price because the world still hasn't been able to forgive itself for the Holocaust, and so lets Israel do anything it wants to.

Moonward - Ugly fat creatures. Very little text. Almost no color. Sometimes difficult to get symbolism. What's not to like?

Sick People

2009-12-26T23:37:00.005+05:30

I hadn't realized I am so well-known. I mean, it's happened several times that people recognized me in public, but someone asking me for my autograph! That's quite something!

Aal Izz Well

2009-12-25T02:25:00.003+05:30

I was having a chat last evening with a friend about the movies we have seen in recent times. During the conversation, we realized that I seem to like, or at least enjoy, too many movies. Even the kinds, like Singh is Kinng and Chandni Chowk to China, which a lot of people aren't particularly fond of.

This was towards the end of my day in the office, and I thought about it on my way back home. I was also thinking about it as I was walking back from the nearest mall after watching a late night paid-preview show of 3 Idiots.

I still don't have an answer to why I seem to like so many movies, or, for that matter, movies in general. For instance, I really loved 3 Idiots, even though I am pretty sure there would be at least some critics who would talk about issues like old actors playing college kids, done-to-death jokes, a less than credible script, and more. It's not that I don't see these issues, but I somehow don't see them as issues if the movie worked for me as a whole.

So, I really didn't find Aamir Khan, Sharman Joshi or Madhavan out of place, or didn't feel embarrassed laughing whole-heartedly at the jokes I have heard tens of times earlier or didn't bat an eyelid when they delivered a kid using a vacuum cleaner and some other handy gadgets. I loved it all. Because I loved them together.

Maybe that is why I enjoy so many films. I start watching a movie, almost always, with the intention of losing myself into it. I don't like to be made to feel that I am losing myself, I want it to happen on its own. And it does happen in most movies that I see to the end. I don't like thinking too much while watching a film. Which is not the same thing as saying that I only like hare-brained movies. If there's a thought that should come to me, it'll come on its own without my hand being held and pulled in any direction.

Plus, I don't like all the movies that I see to the same extent. I just rarely hate or don't like a movie completely. There are redeeming features in a large number of films, and I don't understand the digital approach (like vs don't like) that people have to films, or to anything else.

I like some degree of honesty in a film, from the director and the actors. I like to want to like a film.

On the other hand, nothing puts me off more than pure artificiality. A very conscious attempt to achieve greatness in every frame. That is why I think Sanjay Leela Bhansali is one of the most over-rated directors in Hindi cinema. A man who has made films as terrible as Khamoshi, Black and Saawariya should never be allowed near a camera.

Which is very interesting because the other well-known director from Vidhu Vinod Chopra's camp, Rajkumar Hirani, is a fair contrast. He also goes very nearly over-the-top, but only very nearly. Almost like Frank Capra. There were points in his earlier films, or even in 3 Idiots, when I thought for a moment - No, he didn't just do that! - but then went on to the next scene because whatever he did seemed right.

So, even though my half-baked theories on film appreciation might sound unconvincing, take this advice: Go and watch 3 Idiots. Maybe take some college-friends along. Don't analyze the film. Believe. And you'll have one of the most fun movie watching experiences in recent times.

The Fat, Brown Line

2009-12-24T15:31:00.004+05:30

Everytime I travel on a plane in India, I think this: why do we love to line up so much? I don't know if this is common to people from other countries - more well-traveled acquaintances say that it isn't, so it must be some vestige of those times when everything had to be fought for.

You must have noticed, and very strong chances are that you would have done it yourself - people in Indian airports (and I say Indian, because I have been made to believe that this occurrence is limited largely to these shores) line up the moment there is the first call for boarding to begin. They line up and keep standing diligently even if the line extends to 50-100 people. Even if there ends up being some delay in the eventual boarding process.

Even funnier is when the plane lands and stops after taxiing. Despite all pleas by the air-hostess to keep the phone switched off, people start pulling out their Blackberry Storms and Nokia N97s, the moment the plane slows down after landing, and calling people up that they have landed. I am sure their chauffeurs/cab-wallahs/relatives can survive a few more minutes before hearing their loud voices.

Even more curiously, just as they were desperate to get into the plane, now they are rubbing their heels together to dash out of the plane the moment the door opens. At the first possible instance, almost everyone stands up and lines up looking expectantly at the door, breathing in each other's exhaled air even more effectively. I think this might be some sub-conscious remnant of having been used to lining up near the train compartment door with one's luggage near the bathroom to avoid getting caught in the melee of other passengers, hawkers, coolies and general hangers-on who infest all our railway stations. Especially at those stations where the train used to stop for not more than 2-3 minutes.

I have got used to seeing people stand up and start taking out baggage from the overhead cabins the moment the plane halts momentarily during its taxiing, only to be shouted upon by some member of the crew. Watching them lose balance, or their bags, or both, when the plane starts to move again, is priceless.

What is even more priceless is them giving me dirty looks when I choose to keep sitting at my seat, reading my book, and waiting for the crowd around me to pass through. I have cultivated some looks of my own that I hope make them feel how utterly loserly their behavior is.

Avatar

2009-12-20T10:05:00.003+05:30

I saw Avatar a couple of days back, at the IMAX in Mumbai. I really enjoyed the film, which is more like a joyride than any other film I can remember. This was also the first time I saw a film in 3D, so maybe that added to the fun quotient. But, as almost everyone else has been saying, you should definitely let the Na'vis seduce you. Chances are you'd want an avatar of your own.

This is also another occasion when I am getting annoyed with some of the critics for seeing the film for what it is not. Of course, Roger Ebert and Raja Sen (I know it's probably heresy to take their names together) have both praised the film wholeheartedly, but there are others like Baradwaj Rangan, who seem to get a little too anal about the story. Do they not realize that everyone even with the least bit of sanity can see that the film's script is as cliched as they come, that the characters are made of cardboard so fine many of our own film-makers would be proud of?

Rangan, in his review, also makes a rather patronizing statement, garnishing it with the obligatory references to classics like Apocalypse Now to display his indisputable film-knowledge - If visual wow is all you seek from the movies, Avatar is a truly religious experience... - well, no, I don't only seek visual wow from movies, but I know when to shut the fuck up and not expect a Fellini from a Cameron.

But, at least, he does acknowledge the good stuff too. There are other two-bit film 'critics' who have jumped at the opportunity to prove that they know about this invisible object called script, and have been crucifying the film for not spending more time and resources on it.

I believe a film like this could not have worked if Cameron had made the story too complicated. As it is, the film jumps headlong into the concept of an Avatar, the reasons for choosing the paraplegic Jake Sully, and everything else about Pandora in the first few minutes. After this, I felt it was only right to let the movie take a predictable route, if only to let the audience settle down in familiar territory and enjoy the visual spectacle playing out on the screen.

For all the hoarse crying about Cameron not giving importance to a story as he did in his earlier opus, Titanic, or the ones before that, I remember very clearly reading reviews, from the time Titanic came out, which decried the loss of a good script to the thrill of breaking down the ship.

There's this well-known aspect of our relationships with the elders in our family where their response to a lot of new experiences is that things were better when they were younger. And in time, we probably will start spouting the same shit to people from our younger generations too. Critics seem to play this same thing out, in much shorter time frames.

Rocket Singh Woodstock

2009-12-11T20:24:00.004+05:30

The last two movies I have seen, or the last two before Jackass: The Lost Tapes at least, have been very nice experiences. That does not mean that Jackass wasn't nice in its own way, but men jumping into crocodile-infested ponds in G-strings and making vomelets (ingesting all ingredients and then puking it out and then cooking it, if you had to know) are things meant for more romantic evenings.

I saw Rocket Singh: SOTY today. I had somehow expected a very over-the-top comedy, with several emotional messages rolled in for good measure. The one-minute trailers hadn't been very easy to bear either. Also, the all-too-easy pot-shots at IIT-IIM losers was not very endearing. But, it's probably because I have enjoyed almost all of Ranbir Kapoor's outings, with the exception of his towel-dropping debut, and the fact that I feel Jaideep Sahni and Shimit Amin are two of the more talented chaps around in Hindi films, made me take the chance. And I am glad I did.

The film is more in the league of a Dibakar Banerjee than a Yash Raj Films, a banner whose films lately have been increasingly soporific. A more serious film than the trailers would have us believe, the initial credit sequence made me cringe at the perfect set direction to make the set reflect a typical middle-class family, only to make me realize very soon that it wasn't all made-up.

It's rare to see the entire cast in a Hindi film delight you - including the very delightful, if slightly over-expressive, 'villain' - and it is extremely heartening when that happens. The story is fairly predictable, and maybe that is the greatest strength. A film with a story we see around us a lot, not often enough on the screen though, and still find it interesting enough to stick around - it does not require Rocket Singh to sell it. Our loss if we don't buy it.

The other film I saw, last night, was Taking Woodstock. The film's about a not-so-well-to-do Jewish family and the not-so-prodigal son, who end up playing host to Woodstock. The film hardly dwells on the concert itself - one short look at it from the distance - but still, and probably because of it, is interesting in the depiction of really weird chain of events behind the scenes.

Another ensemble of some very competent actors, including Liev Schreiber as a cross-dressing, ex-Marine, security guard with a heart of gold - this was a movie that was supposed to be released in India some time back but I seem to have missed.

The film also made me wish, again, so hard, that I were born in that era in the US. Drugs, music, free sex, no inhibitions - life could only go downhill from there.

What connects both these movies is the presence of these loser 'heroes', who do something quite out of their league, with a fair amount of opposition from everyone around, and end up achieving stuff they probably hadn't thought of when they set out. The 'setting out' was just instinctive.

But then, maybe all stories worth telling actually do revolve around such people only.

Small Pleasures, Really Small

2009-12-06T09:26:00.005+05:30

The answer is The Aristocrats. To the question asked in the previous post.

I saw Kurbaan last weekend finally - my sinuses were being raped the earlier weekend when it was released - and quite liked it. Liked Paa as well, which I saw this Friday night after work. India are No.1, even though it's only Test Cricket. And I finally got wi-fi at home. Life's made up of such small pleasures.

That's a load of bull.

I am annoyed right now because I was hoping to go to Kerala for New Year's but I have been told it's not a good idea. Despite being on good behavior for days now. Don't have any plans as of now, and spending New Year's eve alone is sad. Even for me!

Anyway, I suppose I'll manage. I came across two interesting sites recently. One was through the gtalk status of a friend. For some reason I thought the author was a woman. Maybe because, like a nurse, I can't imagine a man being a librarian. Love the site for its twisted-ness.

Got to the other site through the blog-roll of the first one. Haven't gone through the archives, but promises some good fun.

I wish right now I could have one of those suburban houses that we see in US films. Apart from the fact that it would help me have a dog (I have been dreaming about keeping a dog with alarming frequency now), I could have one of those garages where the door opens using a remote control and you can just take your gas-guzzler in without having to get down. And you can take stuff from your vehicle straight into your house through the inside door.

And yes, a basement too. Soundproofed, of course.

And a chainsaw. Or at least a good meat-carving knife. And, well, that hook-chain-pulley thing used to hang meat. And a good garbage disposal system. Without nosy neighbors.

Quiz Question

2009-11-30T17:18:00.002+05:30

A family walks into a talent agency. It's a father, mother, son, daughter and dog. The father says to the talent agent, "We have a really amazing act. You should represent us."

The agent says, "Sorry, I don't represent family acts. They're a little too cute."

The mother says, "Sir, if you just see our act, we know you would want to represent us."

The agent says, "OK. OK. I'll take a look."

"First I come out, wearing a tuxedo, playing Brahms. Just as the music reaches a crescendo, my wife in an evening gown runs on stage and undresses me before dancing provocatively on top of the piano.

Just as I finish playing the song with my cock, my wife strips and does a backflip off the piano in a split on stage. Once her naked ass hits the floor, my 7 year old daughter and 13 year old son rush on stage juggling flaming lawn darts. My wife does a handstand and catches the lawn darts in her cunt, she then manages to queef them out, making her the third part of this juggling act.

The queefs force her to squeeze out a few turds, which I eagerly start smearing on my naked body, which arouses me quickly. Once I'm fully aroused my daughter and son take turns blowing me while my wife straps on a monstrous dildo and begins reaming each child while i ejaculate in the eyes of my offspring.

Once I cum, I run into the audience, shit-covered body still sticky with cum and grab my parents and in-laws to involve them into the act. I strip them all nude and instruct them to start a circle jerk while screaming racial slurs. So my mother and father-in-law start screaming, "Fuck the niggers" while mutually masturbating, and my father and mother-in-law begin diddling one another and chanting, "I hate spics and jews!" Once they reach a geriatric climax, my wife uses their ejaculate to lube up her fist which she uses to start fisting me.

As my asshole is violated, I start playing double dutch with my kids, and once they get tangled in the ropes, start a torrid 69. All the sucking and slurping cause my in-laws and parents to get aroused again and they start sodomizing and fisting one another.

My wife at this point has completely started dry-heaving, so she vomits all over my ass and my back. I line up each of my family members who take turns licking the chunks of spew off my back and out of my ass.

By now my children have to defecate so I tell them to shit in each other's favorite orifices. My son, ever the trooper takes a thick, dense shit in his sister's vagina while my daughter shits in my son's nose.

My young daughter also conveniently starts her menstrual cycle shortly thereafter, and the menses and boy-shit in her cunt make for great lube, as each of my in-laws begin fucking my daughter. My son, blinded in shit, heads back to the piano and does his best Stevie Wonder impression while my wife runs back into the audience to grab a toddler from the crowd.

She begins stuffing this child into her vagina, while my parents begin screaming how she's possessed by Satan and start performing a nude exorcism on her. The power of christ compels them to kill the toddler, which also makes it easier to cram into my wife's lovehole.

By now, I'm so horny and aroused that I start fucking the dead baby inside my wife while my young son starts licking my asshole and fingering his paternal grandparents. My in-laws finish abusing my daughter and start wrestling each other, which culminates in a huge powerbomb through the piano bench. The impact shatters my mother-in-law's hips, leaving her crippled.

The strain of the throw caused my father's bad heart to seize, and he collapses in a heap on the stage. As he gurgles and foams at the mouth, my daughter runs over and begins rubbing her shit covered pussy lips all over my crippled mother-in-law.

My wife grabs the wooden shards of the piano bench and begins playing her father's dying body like a xylophone. My son pulls his tongue out of my asshole and begins sucking his dying grandfather's cock.

I diall 911 and call for the paramedics who revive my father-in-law and then take turns fucking my daughter and eating the menses and shit out of her tight cunt.

Once he's conscious we all assemble in a large circle holding hands and chanting gibberish before launching into a rousing group impression of 'A Downs Syndrome' perspective on the horrors of the holocaust, 9/11 and the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

As we're moaning and screaming, my son runs off-stage to get the family dog. The dog runs over to my crippled mother-in-law and begins peeing on her. Once the dog finishes leaving her in a puddle of piss, my daughter stops blowing the paramedics to light the dog on fire.

The dog yelps and howls before collapsing. My son runs over to fuck the burnt corpse while screaming, "White is right!"as my daughter begins goose-stepping around the stage, squeezing shit out of her cunt and offering Nazi salutes to the audience.

My father-in-law begins raping my father, claiming that he's doing it for the forgotten Vietnam vets and POWs. My mother puts my crippled mother-in-law on her shoulders as I put my wife on my shoulders and we play a game of naked chicken.

Once my son finishes fucking the dead dog. He takes the pieces of the piano bench and begins crucifying the corpse. Once the dog is hung like jesus, he begins weeping at the foot of the cross, saying, "Why my god have you forsaken me?"

My daughter mounts the top of the crucifix, using it as a wooden dildo. My parents, my in-laws and my wife join hands at the center of the stage and start singing "The Hills Are Alive With The Sound Of Music"

I grab the lawn darts and shove one up everyone's ass before heading back to the piano to finish off the show with a rendition of Freebird."

For the longest time, the agent just sits in silence. Finally, he manages, "That's a hell of an act. What do you call it?"

What's the answer?

Deer Dicks and Ranbir Kapoor

2009-11-18T20:17:00.006+05:30

No, those are not two of my favorite things. Just read on.

But before that, thanks for all the love showered on my humble blog after the last post. Your feedback always encourages me to keep working on becoming a better person each passing day.

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Got to know about this website through Vibhor. Mind-boggling stuff. It's difficult to choose between deer penis wine and hermaphrodite frog ovaries. They have this and every other fucking thing described as food! That very well ended up being a pun. Always a good reading accompaniment to my much less exotic dinners. Guess I will have to stick to Karthik's blog only for my dining out ideas. Pass me if you find something for Mumbai.

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I went to the PVR at Oberoi Mall each of the last two weekends and watched movies that I quite enjoyed. And others sitting around me seemed to do so too. But, even then, curiously enough, almost everyone that I met would say that they are bad films. The first was Ajab Prem Ki Ghazab Kahani, which I saw a day after it came out. I told a friend right after the movie that it'll be a hit. Sometime some things just connect with the audience without there being a clear reason for it.

And, well, despite my initial dislike for him, I have to admit it's fun watching Ranbir Kapoor. Especially when there's Ms Kaif for company. I realized the same day that I have seen all his movies on the big screen, not by any personal design.

Last weekend, I saw 2012. Like for the earlier film, the hall was house-full for a 10 am show on a Saturday morning for this one too. And I just loved the comprehensive manner in which everything is destroyed.

Hope Kurbaan, which I am looking forward to watching, because I like Dharma Productions films, makes it a hat-trick.

Bird Brained

2009-11-15T16:44:00.006+05:30

An interesting thing happened over the weekend.

After the badly ventilated flat I had in Bangalore, I am fortunate enough to have one with two balconies in Mumbai now. It's awesome for the air as well as the light in the flat, and I don't need to switch on any lights till sunset.

The downside of these balconies is that I almost always end up being woken up in the morning by some pigeon's guttural sounds. And those idiots shit a lot too.

QI tells me that pigeons are the only birds that can suck. And they do suck a lot.

So, I have an AC carton kept in my living room balcony, which a pigeon couple had decided to convert into their own penthouse, despite all my acts of discouragement.

On returning from my Bangkok trip, I saw two eggs in the carton. Pigeon eggs are really small. So, I had let them stay for a while as I thought they'd be done with it soon. One of the eggs hatched sometime back.

Yesterday, I got angry with a friend and didn't have anything to vent my anger out on. So, I went and shook the carton really hard. The mom (I am assuming it was a 'mom' because she was sitting on the little pigeon chick thing) flew away in fright, leaving the kid behind. I shook some more and the chick bounced around for a while and fell down to the floor.

That was yesterday.

From last evening till the afternoon today, the stupid kid had shat all over my balcony, while the parents looked on perched on my AC. The maid hadn't come today so it was going to get even worse by tomorrow morning.

So, when the pigeons left for a while I lifted the kid on a magazine and threw it onto the roof of a car parked below my balcony. Was curious to see how the pigeons would react when they came back.

The pigeons came back in a few minutes and took some time in locating the kid. The morons then went on to nudge the kid off the roof on to the ground.

A dog came within moments and made a nice evening snack of the kid.

I threw the other egg down for the dog's dessert. But a crow flew in and ate it the moment it fell on to the ground.

This will teach the pigeons not to treat my balcony as prime real estate.

Bangkok Diary - I

2009-11-02T00:00:00.004+05:30

Just got back from Thailand after a hectic four-day part-work, part-vacation trip.

The first impression, Thursday early morning, as we moved from the Suvarnabhumi International Airport towards our hotel in Bangkok was good. But it took a bit of a plunge over the next two days, only to go back up over the weekend.

So, in the end, it was a good visit. Enjoyed the place. People are extremely friendly, which is the most important thing. Staying at a fantastic hotel didn't harm either. Food is lovely, which is always a major plus in my books.

Detailed notes soon.

The Strain

2009-10-28T10:26:00.004+05:30

I had the scariest nightmare last night.

My dreams are normally quite awesome. Not exactly the way her sweet dreams are, but good fun. Even the slightly bad ones get nasty only to the extent of me missing an exam (yeah, I still have those ones) or losing a grade because of having low attendance.

But, this one was a proper nightmare. Where I actually woke up completely frightened and was spooked enough to not go back to sleep for a fairly long time.

I sleep very lightly and even the least bit of sound makes me wake up. Because of my sinus problems, I snore on some occasions if I am sleeping on my back (I always have to sleep sideways) and end up waking myself with the noise of my snoring. Yeah, it sounds funny even to me, but true.

So, last night I woke up partly because I was really frightened, but also because I could hear myself moan in sleep. That bad. And I could feel the physical pain I had experienced in the nightmare even after waking up.

What probably led to this rare occurrence was the fact that I had gone to bed reading the new book jointly authored by Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan - The Strain. It's a fast-paced book, not very different from most other horror/thriller works of fiction, but this somehow got under my skin. And I would like to believe that it's not easy to do that.

On a (hopefully) unrelated note, I'll be in Bangkok for the next 3-4 days. If any of you are also going to be there by some interesting twist of fate, mail me and we could meet up. Would probably need some break anyway from all the presentations.

TOW I Crib Some More

2009-10-26T18:48:00.008+05:30

I am typing with one hand again. But that's because I have a particularly gooey piece of chikki in my left hand. Had gone with my parents to Lonavala-Khandala a few weeks back, and all the chikki we bought had been rotting in my fridge. It still tastes awesome.

I am sorry for that fingers stunt. I was getting bored one fine evening, had just watched No Smoking for the fourth time, and this felt like a good idea. Thanks to everyone who bothered to comment, write to me or call. Apologies for being such a moron. And will try not to crack such 'jokes' again.

***********Warning - Serious Crib Alert************

I have been terribly low for the last few days, which has sort of been the general mood actually for most of the last few months. I know it's very boring reading someone crib like this but, well, at least I am not cribbing while talking to you on the phone! I am not exactly sure why I am not in a good or even normal mood, not sure whether there is a reason at all, but it is the way it is.

The fact that I am not exactly in love with my job is very clear to anyone who reads my posts. But it is a genuinely nice firm to work for, and I am not sure I won't regret missing out the chance of sticking around and seeing this firm grow if I leave soon. And there are quite a few days when I enjoy the work I do on that particular day. I feel satisfied coming home tired, having simple food, watching a couple of TV shows, chatting a bit with one or two people, and then lying down with a novel and falling asleep in a few minutes. I particularly love the falling asleep easily bit. Probably for the first time in my life, for an extended period, I have not had problem in falling asleep.

But then there are days when I have this crazy, painful feeling that I am wasting time. I don't have any liabilities, my dad's in a good job and has got a fair amount of time before retirement, and my parents have saved a decent amount of money, my sister's got a job. I am healthy, with no illness. I don't even have a pet animal that could be dependent on me.

I still can't find the courage to experiment. And it's killing me. Or at least making me crazy.

I have been shutting people out with my craziness. I didn't have too many friends to begin with, but have been deliberately trying to lose the ones I did. I said some very hurtful things to a cousin I considered one of my best friends, and we haven't spoken for months now. I haven't called up some of my friends whom I used to talk with every few weeks. And I think was not very hospitable when one such close friend stayed over at my place for a weekend. And over the last few days I have come perilously close to losing the friend I value the most.

I can make things better. But then again, I can't.

Writing this here is just a way to see things better, as crazy as it may sound.

It's also crazy how much 'I' my posts are about. The rare moments when I give my self-centered self a break and look at others, I realize that others have got problems too. Real problems actually. But one's own problems, even if imagined, obviously hurt more.

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Added later: Maybe it's just a case of not getting enough sex.

fingers

2009-10-09T23:53:00.002+05:30

i lost 2 fingers of my left hand yesterday in an accident. hurts like hell, and it is painful typing with one hand, so forgive the lack of caps. will be back with the story once the painkillers wear off completely.

You Do Get Jews In A Bar

2009-10-02T18:22:00.003+05:30

Christoph Waltz, as SS Colonel Hans Landa, bites into his role with such delight and has so much fun chewing it that it's difficult for me to be able to write about anything else from Inglourious Basterds. Will have to watch it again sometime soon.

I saw the film last night, at a preview show, which should qualify as first-day first-show. Occasions like these when your expectations are met, and even exceeded, are rare, and worth cherishing. Tarantino's back in true form after an also-ran called Death Proof and aren't we fortunate for that!

They didn't show any trailers at the beginning of the movie at the multiplex I saw Basterds at. Which was good in hindsight, because it might have got me in the wrong mood for the beginning of the film. The film is told in Chapters, similar to Kill Bill, and the first one sets the mood brilliantly. Landa has a long and cheerful conversation with a peasant Frenchman, in which he also explains in delightful detail why a Jew is like a rat (reminded me of Maus), drinks some milk, and smokes the most interesting pipe I have seen, and one understands completely when the peasant, who is easily twice the size of the Colonel, starts crying at the end of it. You would not want to run into Landa in real life.

Unless, of course, if you are a Basterd.

After pages and reels of having seen those bastard Nazis taking it out on the poor Jews, it's the Basterd Jews turn to scalp their oppressors, literally. Or, in case of Eli Roth's Bear Jew, have a few shots at their heads with a baseball bat.

But, the title of the film is actually quite misleading. Even though it's fun seeing the Basterds having fun at the expense of the poor Nazis (that adjective isn't used with that noun that often), this film is also about a parallel story of a girl who lived to take revenge. She gets equal footage, if not more, as Pitt, and very deservingly so.

The climax, where multiple strands come together, is so unexpected and so relieving that the few moments in the film earlier that felt like a drag seem completely worth the patience.

Tarantino's trademark long conversational scenes ending in chaos or anti-climactic non-action are still there, and have gotten better in some cases. The bar scene with the actress and three of the Basterds is one of the most classic ones I have seen. And the first scene in the film is anyway beyond comparison.

Pitt has done better roles than this and I didn't like him all that much. His drawl actually got very irritating at times. The rest of the cast, an assortment of nationalities, is great, as they are expected to be in a Tarantino film.

I had never seen a Tarantino film on the big screen before this, and it's completely my loss. His use of music is legendary, but I hadn't realized how subtly it creates the atmosphere for just the right reaction from the audience till I saw this film. Even the camera angles are so much more effective on the big screen. It is like the big screen, or even the Dolby surround sound, was invented for Tarantino.

I already feel like going back to watching Landa again tonight.

Machher Jhol

2009-09-06T14:29:00.006+05:30

One of the reasons for taking a flat this far out in the suburbs - causing a daily 30-40 minute one-way commute to office, which everyone, including myself, keeps reminding me is very sane by Mumbai standards - was to be able to live away from the crazy congregation of humanity that is Mumbai. And it's been a good decision. My flat's balconies don't even open towards the road, but towards the greener, and calmer, backside of the society. Watching Mumbai's famous rains, with the balcony doors wide open, cool breeze blowing in, and reading a nice book, with music playing on my (new) speakers, is as close to heavenly as I have come since I started working.

Of course, one can't spend the entire weekend cooped up like this. One of my weekly engagements is a trip to Hypercity in Malad (W) to do my grocery shopping. It's about 15-20 away from my flat on a straight road, which normally has much less traffic than usual at the time I choose to go there (Sunday lunchtime). On my way back, feeling content with the world after having gotten through another week of boring vegetable-buying, I like to take a look around at the slums lining both sides of the road.

A good amount of space right next to the footpath is taken by these small shops, barely enough to fit two persons, selling all sorts of things from clothes and food items to phones and hardware. I rarely see any customer there. They are almost always occupied by some old man wearing a skull cap and kurta-pajama, very often staring at the road blankly. I always wonder how the shop-owners make a living. Who are the patrons? What are the footfalls like?

Today it reminded me of a similar shop I knew almost a decade back. Before deciding to go to Kota for my coaching, I had spent about 2-3 very painful weeks in Kolkata. I was staying on the 2nd floor of a guest-house, and one of the windows in my room opened on to a section of a road that had a small bakery/confectionery/something like that on the other side.

The person who ran the shop used to pull up the shutters sometime around 11 am, and by the time I got back to my room at 4:30 or so, they would be down. Of course, these were the days when he would decide to open shop at all, because very often the shop would be closed even on a weekday. I wasn't around long enough to figure out a pattern - maybe he took a leave only on prime numbered dates - but it didn't keep me from marveling what a leisurely lifestyle he had. As I got to know later, Kolkata abounds in such life-stories.

And even though I have often made fun about the lack of enterprise among a good number of people in Kolkata, I find myself wondering equally often these days if that is not the better life. Machher jhol and beer, and they don't cost much, should be enough for a good life.

Were The World Mine

2009-08-30T16:57:00.003+05:30

Two posts in one day - don't know if I have done that before.

I have believed for a long time now that the theory about the heart deciding a lot of things for us is one of the few inarguable truths of our life. There are some people you meet, some things you see that you know would matter for a long time.

I saw a film like that just now. Had downloaded it several weeks back because I had read about it somewhere. Got around to watching it today. I had been seeing the same first 15 minutes or so and dismissing it as another cliched high-school story. But, I need hard disk space on my laptop (have left my external HDD with a friend accidentally) and decided to watch it today so that I could delete it. Am not deleting it for sure now.

Were the World Mine is one of those films that makes you realize how much English-language, or for that matter most non-Indian, films have missed by not making more musicals. Or at least us, the viewers, have. I last got that feeling when I saw Chicago all those years ago.

It's a film about a gay chap in an all-boys high-school, where he's fallen in love with the school jock, the best rugby player. The usual dilemmas follow, and I was growing tired, when suddenly Shakespeare drops in. This is an unapologetic tribute to Midsummer Night's Dream, one of my favorite Shakespearean plays, and the Bard of Avon would have been proud.

The lead boy is chosen in the school play for the role of Puck, and he discovers the love potion mentioned in the play. Craziness ensues, with the sports coach falling for the headmaster, the boy's mom's boss (who is also the headmaster's wife) falling for his mom, and the jock falling for him.

The point when the entire butch rugby team starts doing ballet on the sports field is hilarious.

The music and the acting is better than several high ranked films. When I see a film like this, I feel really bad because such films should be seen by more people. They are hugely entertaining, but show you a bit more of life too at the same time, without you realizing it.

Cheap Thrills

2009-08-30T09:30:00.004+05:30

I think I went a little overboard in writing about my job in the last post. The job's OK. Which I have realized is better than most people's jobs around me. I just need to stop posting here when I am under the influence of spirits, or on Monday mornings.

Of course, there's no bit of frustration that a few good films and books can't rid you of.

My habit of trying out films on my own, and not relying too much on how known or well-received they are, bears fruit very often. I ran into this film called Pontypool recently. It's a Canadian horror/thriller film, and a very interesting take on a genre that has seen some interesting experimentation in the last few years.

The other film I enjoyed - I am not talking about Kaminey because, well, everyone knows I enjoyed it - was this low-budget, really low-ranked, film called Train. It's a mindless gory Hostel-kind of movie. Just the way I like them. The funniest bit is when the lead male star gets caught by the killer while he is running through the train in his jock-straps. His running through the train bit is thanks to this amazingly idiotic game Truth-or-Dare, which Americans seem to take a little too seriously. Getting caught by a deranged killer while you are in your jock-straps must be an ignominious way to die. When you get caught, you feel embarrassed or afraid?

I also saw Mirrors, which I wasn't very enthused by when I saw the trailer a few months back. I don't like the Sutherlands. But I hadn't realized that it's been made by Alexandre Aja. It's fairly decent, with a superb ending. The scene where Amy Smart's character's reflection makes her tear apart her jaw in the bath-tub (I know it sounds complicated) is awesome for its creativity.

Creativity in killing people reminds me - The Final Destination 3D is my most awaited movie right now. I might have written here earlier that I am a big fan of the earlier three movies in the series because of the sheer innovation in killing off people. The plots are threadbare and repetitive. Acting is basic. But, the real star in these films is Death.

I just got done with reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. It's worth all the hype that it has created in the recent past. Sourcing it in Mumbai had become really difficult, because it seemed to be out of stock at every bookstore. Will be getting on to the 2nd book in the trilogy soon.

Not keeping with the thriller/horror theme of this post, am reading this very interesting collection of short stories called In Other Rooms, Other Wonders by Daniyal Mueenuddin. I love reading about Pakistan, and the stories here are very simple, leisurely portraits of ordinary Pakistani folk, who are strikingly similar to the folks this side of the border.

Jackass At Work

2009-08-24T10:29:00.003+05:30

I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job.

I really hate my job.

Or maybe not so much.

Monday mornings aren't exactly a picnic on normal days, but today, getting up in the middle of a particularly nice dream, and then getting wet waiting for an auto, to come to work made me feel like a complete jackass.

The work probably is decent enough. It's actually more because I can get the same amount of work done even if I work from home. The only reason going to work makes sense is if there's a meeting, and today there isn't one.

And the worst thing about my office in Mumbai is that the people are absolutely one-dimensional. I know I have probably not given them a chance and not tried to get to know them better and all that, but after having worked with them for almost 3 months now, I think I have a fair understanding of who they are.

There are about 2-3 people apart from me who don't get food from home and go down at lunchtime to the canteen in the opposite building. I have started dreading having to go out with anyone else, because for the half hour or so that we take to walk there, get food, eat it and walk back, the only conversation we can have is about deals we are working on.

Bangalore office sucked in some regards, but at least there were people who had a life beyond work.

I am gradually starting to have lunch on my own with a book or a magazine.

The funny thing is that I think they probably think that I am a really boring person. Because I pretty much shut up if they start discussing their investor memorandum and financial model and due-diligence report. I go to some wikipedia article on my phone and let them have their fun with their deal-talk.

I am really not cut out to be a banker.

We Suck

2009-08-21T23:04:00.004+05:30

Call this lack of patriotism, but I really do wish the Commonwealth Games are taken away from us. Just two hours of rains and Delhi, which almost everyone accepts is the most world-class city we've got, comes to a standstill.

I work in the infrastructure sector, and as part of my work I keep track of infra related developments in India and, to a lesser extent, abroad. When I talk to American or European bankers about the level of development in India's infrastructure, I feel like a bloody sub-Saharan resident.

We are really that bad. And much worse actually. Some of the poorest nations of the world have better roads than us. BRIC is a joke. GS probably wanted an S (for South Africa) in place of that I, but it wouldn't have been easy to pronounce. We don't even have a proper 100 crore+ company in some important sectors.

I love India and all that, but we do suck royally.

And what sucks most is that the only thing I do is crib about it here.

Online Shopping for Indian DVDs

2009-08-18T21:30:00.004+05:30

Hmong to Champaign, IL - that's one crazy stretch! Even for Bollywood. And yes, I have seen Japanese kids dance on Rajni songs at a school function.

I took a look at the films Nicki had seen as a kid. And I used to think I had a weird childhood.

And please do try out Induna. It's actually as good as Nicki says. It's quite rare to come across good service standards in India, at low costs as least. Just travel by Go or Spice and you'd know what I mean.

Tweety Bird

2009-08-15T19:47:00.002+05:30

I joined Twitter a few weeks back. Like a lot of things that I join and then lose interest in, I haven't gone back to the site again, at least no more than twice maybe. And certainly haven't made any posts. Or is the right term 'tweets'?

Actually, for some reason it does not take messages from my phone. Now I don't have the patience or the interest to figure out if it's a problem with my net connection, my phone connection, my connection or anything else. Just now I realized that I don't even know for sure if it is meant to take messages from my phone.

But, still, people seem to keep deciding to follow me on Twitter. Unless it's that fan thing on Orkut, or the equally dumb Recommendation thing on LinkedIn (the only two networking sites I whole-heartedly support - I find Facebook too confusing), where it's expected to be quid pro quo, I don't understand why people do that.

Of course no one loses anything on adding one more name to the list of people you follow, but it does give my ego a fairly respectable boost, which could be the secret of my energy, when I see yet another new person starting to follow me on Twitter. And like the many good people who keep sending friend invites on Facebook, I don't know a fair number of the people following me on Twitter either.

No offence meant to people who did add me on Twitter of course. I am sure they are all very nice. And busy.

Quizzing in Mathura

2009-08-10T11:39:00.000+05:30

I returned to Mumbai (and office) in the morning today, a couple of hours back, after a very hectic and enjoyable weekend.

At Mathura.

MnA had been invited to conduct three quizzes at Indian Oil Corporation's Mathura Oil Refinery, as part of IOCL's golden jubilee celebrations. Both Menon and I were there - the first time after our 1st quiz at IIMC when we have been quizmasters at the same venue.

I did a quiz for college students and then a quiz for employees' spouses on Saturday and Menon followed it up with a quiz for the employees on Sunday. The entire experience was very unique - it doesn't really get any more unique than doing a quiz for housewives.

And the best part is that we managed to get it right. We underestimated the ladies a bit, and almost all my questions got answered without being passed around much, but the more important thing was that we connected really well with the participants and the audience and everyone seemed to have enjoyed it a lot.

The enthusiasm, especially among the ladies, was truly infectious. Made the slightly painful trip to Mathura, barely managing work and making questions for 1.5 quizzes, and generally cribbing about having to make easy questions completely worth it.

This feeling, which I have probably talked about here earlier too, that we are doing the right thing as quizmasters - ensuring that people enjoy a quiz without having to dumb it down or making it too jazzy, essentially still concentrating on having good questions - is immensely satisfying. It feels great when people, who have probably never quizzed in their lives, clap spontaneously for a good question or an inspired answer from the stage. And both of us are getting better in terms of being comfortable on the stage and with the audience too, which adds to the fun.

Of course the money we are making on the side adds to the satisfaction.

The journey to Mathura and back was through Gurgaon, where I had a (partial) night out with friends, drinks and gossip after a very long time. Made the trip even more tiring, but a lot more enjoyable also.

Talking of MnA, this article came out in Times of India (Kolkata edition) recently. The other guys mentioned are probably working on their ventures a lot more proactively, but we have till now largely been picking the fruits falling in our laps without us having to do much by way of pitching. We should be making an effort to pluck some out from the trees pretty soon.

After this weekend, coming back to work seemed particularly drab and pointless.

Let Live

2009-07-22T22:55:00.004+05:30

It's really annoying how often people tend to think they are more capable to make the choices for another human being. Almost every day one comes across one more self-righteous fool trying to dictate how someone else needs to live his/her life. I never quite understand why as long as someone's decision is not having a bearing on your life (and the butterfly effect argument is too dumb to count) why you would want to interfere in that person's life.

These days there's this case in the news about a mentally-challenged orphan pregnant rape victim in Punjab being stopped from having her child. Thankfully the Supreme Court let her go ahead with her decision. It's her body, her child. One really doesn't know what the child would want, and till it's born I think the mother is the only person, at least in this case, who can decide for it. Why the hell do apparently well-meaning people want her child to be aborted! There's so little that lady has to live for. Why the hell can't you let her be happy if she feels she can take care of the child!

Monsieur Sarkozy decided to ban the hijab in France. Because it is a secular country. I don't know what the definition of secular is. I have always believed that it is not banning the expression of any religious belief, but instead ensuring that people from all communities are allowed full freedom to wear, worship, speak, celebrate in any manner they want to as long as they are not harming anyone else. Barring a Muslim woman from wearing a headscarf or a Sikh man from keeping a turban, irrespective of whether that person wants to do it or not, is not secularism. It's autocracy.

It's no different from a Muslim emperor in medieval times allowing people from all religions to stay in his kingdom as long as they paid a tax for being allowed to stay there. It's no different from Muslims in a certain Well-known State in Western India living under the constant threat of another riot.

Nicolas Sarkozy might believe that he has done a great deed by liberating Muslim women. I might be wrong, but I do believe that the hijab holds a more important position for at least some Muslim women living in France than just something forced onto them by their fathers or brothers.

Which brings me to the Section 377 decriminalisation case. There have been all sorts of people from all sorts of backgrounds saying all sorts of things about how homosexuality is against our culture, is unnatural, is criminal, is a portent of the end of mankind and so much more.

The funniest bit that I saw on TV was in an NDTV debate hosted by Vikram Chandra where a high-school kid said with a lot of conviction that sex is only meant for having kids. Damn, that kid is up for so much revelation some time soon.

Or maybe not.

But, on a more serious note, I was just peeved with the time that was being spent on the issue. I know it's one of those things that need to be discussed in the open and not brushed under the proverbial carpet, but while doing that it's really annoying seeing people like Baba Ramdev saying things they obviously have no clue at all about. Why do these people feel it's so important to dictate what I do in my bedroom. Or, for that matter, even what their son/daughter does in his/her bedroom.

I doubt most such people would even have a clue about it actually.

Reading Hamza in Mumbai

2009-07-16T17:38:00.005+05:30

It's really difficult fitting a whole lot of things to do in the few hours I get free after work and before I go to sleep. Reading Dastan-e-Amir Hamza, playing with my new iPod Touch, playing with my slightly old Wii, watching all the stuff I copied from a friend recently, watching all the stuff I have been copying from other people over the last few years (I still have movies left from the 1st trip I made back to Delhi after joining IIMC), watching TV, watching YouTube videos (I came across these bunch of awesome videos made by the 2007 Civil Engg batch at IT-BHU, actually made by essentially one chap, but starring many of his batchmates), and a lot of other stuff.

Surprisingly, watching TV wins. At least on weeknights.

I am really enjoying Rakhi Ka Swayamvar. As Amit Varma said, WTF-ness abounds. I actually do respect Rakhi Sawant for having achieved whatever she has despite all the apparent handicaps, but that still can't keep me from cringing almost every other minute with what people do there. Of course, you'd know by now that I love cringe-worthy stuff.

I was also enjoying Entertainment Ke Liye Kuchh Bhi Karega before it got over a few days back.

There are two things I saw on TV in the last 2-3 days, which made me marvel at how far we have come from the DD days, for better or for worse. One, they actually showed Chetan Hansraj (who, incidentally, I realized, had played the young Balram in one of the biggest DD hits - Mahabharat) take a shower in Iss Jungle Se Mujhe Bachao. Don't think any of the other Big Brother/Survivor clones had gone into that territory yet. And the other thing was the absolute voyeurism of Sach Ka Saamna. If the first episode's questions are anything to go by, I am hooked. Who wouldn't want to see a seemingly ordinary lady admit in front of her family that she had once wanted to kill her husband! Or computer-ji, or whoever Sid Basu has got in this time, telling the same lady that when she said that she wouldn't sleep with another man even if her husband never got to know of it, she was actually lying according to the polygraph. Late night TV gems are made of these and more.

Have been going to sleep these last few days reading stories from the English translation of Dastan-e-Amir Hamza. When I was in school, I used to be desperate to lay my hands on any book of fiction and had digested every book worth reading in my school library (it wasn't all that big anyway) and one of the books I had chanced upon was Stories from the 1001 Arabian Nights. Quite evidently no teacher in the school had ever read it (and probably no other student as well, as it ran into over a 1000 pages), or it wouldn't have been available in a school library. I was all of 14 years then, and the descriptions of all kinds of sexual deviance and tasteful paeans to private body parts (both male and female) provided a wonderful introduction to Central Asian literature. The book I am reading currently hasn't reached those standards yet, but I am still in the first 100 pages only. Hopefully, things will get more rewarding.

I hope even more that they do because Hamza was Prophet Muhammad's uncle, and I just love the Prophet. You can't not love the chap.

Kaminey!

2009-07-10T00:11:00.005+05:30

So I am alive. Very much so.

I hadn't expected that I'll say this, at least so soon, but I like Mumbai more than Bangalore. As I had written in one of my last posts - Bangalore is a dying city. While Mumbai is the most alive, throbbing city I have ever lived in.

Also, my opinion is bound to be biased a great deal by my work environment, since I spend a good time of my waking life at my office. I am the only one in my firm who has worked in both the Bangalore and the Mumbai offices, and I can certify that the Mumbai office is better. My boss here is a lot more mature, unlike my previous one, who had never been able to grow up from this feeling of self-importance he gained while working in a mediocre investment bank, and had a terrible inferiority complex and needed this constant puffing up to prove to himself that he was worth something. Contrary to what the generally accepted belief in the firm is, the Mumbai office gets thrice as much work done as at the Bangalore office, and manages to remain a lot more convenient (and more 'cool') place to work at.

Love being in Mumbai, despite the humidity, despite the crowds. A few friends had told me when they got to know of my transfer that I would love the place, but I never believed it. I do now. There's so much freedom, so much potential. This city just lives so much more. The fact that I can take a train to the beach at 10 at night and get back to my home well in time for office next day. The fact that I can order food from a restaurant at 1 am. And then breakfast again at 7 am. The fact that I can easily find an auto-rickshaw at 4 am in the morning (and I have tried doing that). Mumbai never sleeps.

The vada-pav. The pav-bhaji. The fish. The bhel. Yeah, well, a city for me is defined largely by its food. Delhi still scores higher because of that.

And of course I enjoy being able to converse in Hindi for a change, instead of battling speaking in any non-Kannada language with the awful Bangalore auto-wallahs.

I also had this misconception about the people of Mumbai. I would have to make another post sometime soon about the people of Mumbai, but I have fairly enjoyed it here. Maybe partly because this is being in Bihar all over again.

The distances hurt a bit. I stay in Goregaon, in a flat I am really proud of, and Colaba and Nariman Point seem like parts of a different planet altogether. But I'll get there one of these days. My office is in Santacruz, so I can afford to stay in the suburbs. I look forward to eating Bheja Fry at one of those fantastic restaurants in Town and sitting for hours at one of those Marine Drive benches reading a novel.

Before I forget, what made me want to write here today after such a long while was the music from Kaminey. I just listened to the whole soundtrack a short while back, and I am in love with Vishal Bhardwaj right now. I might buy an iPod Touch because of this.

Aaja aaja dil nichodein!

Kannadiga films

2009-05-17T21:48:00.005+05:30

Ambareesh has got to be the ugliest former-actor in the world (too scary to put on my blog). Though considering that he was part of the Kannada film industry, which has by far the ugliest actors I have known in any other part of India, or world, he can be forgiven. If you have seen Dr Rajkumar's videos, you would know what I mean (as an aside, if pubs in Bangalore used to have singers like that, it's hardly surprising that the current government has a low opinion of these joints). This is the chap whose death made people go on a rampage in Bangalore, burning vehicles and stuff. Sad.

You would argue that at least some of these chaps are/were good actors. My response to that would be - Go get your head checked! South India is known for its melodramatic films, the kind Hindi films got done with in the mid-80s. And the actors, or male protagonists to be more accurate (as they can hardly be called 'actors'), know only one thing - hamming. Maybe, and just maybe, some of the Malayalam actors could count as people with acting skills, but one look at the movies of MGR, NTR and all those other worshipped chaps would make you feel rather shocked that you weren't around to take their place - you stood as good a chance.

Leaving Bengaluru - 2

2009-05-15T22:26:00.006+05:30

My morning-afters are also moments of realization, except that I don't need to use this. I just come to my blog and realize that I have made a rather strongly worded post in a condition of drunken-ness. It would be obvious to most of you that the only time I feel creative enough these days to write anything is when I am slightly (or a little more than slightly) drunk. I don't lie after drinking, but I do end up making posts that amplify my feelings.

So, even though I don't think anyone's opinion is going to get influenced by my post, I feel I need to write a bit about my previous post.

I did go through a brief period of discomfort when I got to know that I would have to move to Mumbai, unless I resigned from my job (a thought that I confess hasn't been completely absent in the last few weeks), but I got over it soon enough. Much as I have come to like this city, or at least town (calling it an overgrown village is a little too cruel), I have started to look forward to moving to Mumbai. Which does come as a surprise. When I had visited Mumbai in August last year, I had absolutely hated the place, maybe partly because it was marred by loss of my wallet and a one-day, tiring, trip to Singapore, during which I fell ill and developed a hatred of salads that lasted over a month. But, my visit last weekend to look for a flat made me realize that it is as good or as bad as any other city in India. And just as I have ended up loving Delhi, Kolkata and Bangalore over the last decade, I am sure Mumbai will also grow on me. Quite a geographical distribution of my love, you would agree.

And Mumbai is definitely a better option in terms of gaining a semblance of social life. Even if I don't meet any of my hundreds of acquaintances there, at least taking that 5-minute auto rickshaw ride to my bro's place will not stop. I pray he doesn't take up a job in Bangalore now!

As far as my rants about people of Bangalore is concerned, even though I don't feel as strongly as the post might have made one feel, I do think there is a problem that the city faces in that respect. For a large section of the population in Bangalore - the not-so-well-off-ones - the IT revolution and the inflow of people from other parts of the country, particularly from the North, has been very disconcerting. It has brought about a change in the living standards of the upper-middle-class sections of Bangalore as well, but I am not sure the fruits have reached the lower sections. If anything, they have felt more left out, been made more aware of their shortcomings. Their response is reflected in the rapid increase in crime rate in the city, very often directed towards the IT professionals. I also feel this unrest, this frustration, is responsible for the attacks against women. There is this helplessness that a lot of men, who don't see themselves being a part of this growth, must feel.

On the other hand, there is this section of people in Bangalore, whom I find even more pathetic. These people rue the demolition of every ruined theater, closing of every loss-making bookshop, shutting down of every unfrequented restaurant, in the name of culture. They are the equivalents of jhola-wallahs of JNU in Delhi, or the frustrated communists spread all over Kolkata, who just suffer from a severe case of cultural constipation.

Even though I mentioned some stuff about Kannadiga culture in my last post, I think I am probably the person with the least respect for this sacred cow called culture. I don't think there is anything called culture in terms of the broad brush-strokes people tend to define it as. My thesis on culture still needs some time before I write about it here, but I do find these 'cultured' Bangaloreans, many of whom meet regularly at that really pathetic restaurant called Koshy's or wax eloquent in Time Out's Bangalore edition about things so pointless that I can't even recall right now, indescribably sad. Bangalore deserves better.

There is one section that I really enjoy interacting with. Not that I have had the privilege of doing that much, thanks to the largely insulated, secluded, life I have lived over the last one year. This section is Bangalore's hope, and thankfully comprises a large fraction of Bangalore's population. People who have lived in Basavangudi, Rajajinagar, Jainagar, JP Nagar, and all other parts that I haven't heard of. People who have been here for multiple generations, and love this place, and have taken its change in their stride. Many of these people probably don't enjoy the turn their city's fortunes have taken, but do realize that it was inevitable.

Unfortunately, most of these people are too content in their nice houses, great jobs, loving families and wholesome bisi-bele-bath. They are the quintessential middle-class, or upper-middle-class if you will, which tends to do well in all situations.

Bangalore has actually changed over the course of the one year I have been here. It's continuously evolving, changing, maybe faster than any other city of a comparable size is. Whether it changes for the better, whether it becomes more accepting, or ends up being a mess that it seems headed for right now, depends on these people.

Well, yeah, I have had a few beers again.

Leaving Bengaluru

2009-05-13T23:05:00.003+05:30

I had expected that I would hate leaving Bangalore. But I have actually been looking forward to leaving this excuse for a city since the time I got to know that I have been transferred.

Don't get me wrong. There are a lot of things that I like about this place. The climate for one. The fact that it is a cheaper place than any other city in India (or abroad) I would want to be in. The fact that there is one really nice book-shop on Church Street here (as against none in most other cities). But those should not be the best reasons to like a city. The main reason why one should like a city is its people. And I think Bangalore scores quite low on that count.

The people of Bangalore have still not been able to come to terms with the fact that their city (or erstwhile overgrown village) is not the same Kannadiga-dominated place it used to be 10-15 years back. They still expect people to learn Kannada, not realizing that the city has developed and grown because people from other parts of India have come to work here. Bangalore, unlike Mumbai or Delhi, is still uncomfortable with its cosmopolitan-ness, and I doubt it'll be able to come to terms with it in the near future. It's sad, because the city deserves better natives.

Kannadigas are an inherently insecure people, perennially worried that the more identifiable Madrasis (Tams), the more interesting Mallus or the more successful Gults overshadow them. They actually do. I wasn't aware of a distinct Kannadiga culture till I came to Bangalore, and I am not sure it can still be called one ("distinct culture") just as yet.

The recent spurt in ill-treatment of women hasn't endeared the Kannadiga "culture" to me particularly either. Bangalore, or at least one section of it, has had this elitist hangover from the Brit times, which is fast diluting in the face of the BJP-backed core Kanndiga ideology.

Karnataka is slowly taking over Bangalore. Bangalore is dying.

The verdict on whether Mumbai scores over Bangalore would be settled one year from now.

To Let - a 2BHK near Cambridge Layout

2009-05-08T15:08:00.004+05:30

Am trying to help my land-lord find a tenant to replace me, so that he doesn't lose out on any rent when I move to Mumbai. No, this is not due to some long-lost goodness in my heart that has suddenly woken up thanks to the racket that all those religious fanatics are creating close to my home. I am hoping to patao the land-lord to forgo the extra rent I would be liable to pay considering that I am leaving without proper notice beforehand. No, my company does not reimburse that, as some others seem to do.

Selling a house is about as much fun as selling a project/company, which I do for a living. It's particularly weird letting strangers go through my flat while I am away. Even weirder letting them do that when I am at home. Feels like a doctor probing you in the wrong kinds of places. And my home is not even as clean as I am.

I had volunteered to clean up my flat (it's not that unkempt anyway actually) before my land-lord started bringing in potential tenants on a guided tour, but he said this way it gives a more lived-in, personal, feeling.

One of the chaps who responded to my ad was a Muslim guy. Just like I did with all the other people who have responded to my ad on Sulekha, I called him up, gave some basic info about the place and then passed on my land-lord's number. Turns out my land-lord told him in the first call that the flat is taken. It's not. I really can't think of a good reason why he would do that.

If religion is the opiate of the masses, Indians must be perpetually high. The racket I was referring to ended a few days back actually, but it lasted long enough. I have no clue which of our 10,000 gods' birthdays they were celebrating, but they did leave no stone unturned for the festivities. Quite literally actually, since they completely overhauled a dumping ground close to my place, and turned it into a makeshift pandaal facing the Vinayaka Temple close to it (and left it an even worse mess after that).

And once they had ensured that they had set up a structure big enough that would make two-way traffic even more difficult than it normally is, they brought in a whole bunch of pot-bellied priests, who would keep reciting all these hymns the whole day through. On really loud loud-speakers. This lasted for 3-4 days. They had the good sense of shutting up after around 9 or so in the evening. But, they would start again early in the morning. Didn't let me sleep late on the weekend. And I'll never forgive them for that.

Despite all these occasional issues, the locality where I stay is still a good, safe, family-oriented one.

Idiocracy

2009-04-30T22:18:00.005+05:30

I don't understand why people can't realize that the success of democracy, or at least the good of our country, does not lie in every Tom, Dick and Harry voting. Masses are generally dumb, popular beliefs are more often than not wrong and most Indians are too biased by religion, caste, region and issues I can't even fathom. In such a scenario I am not sure asking every idiot to go and exercise his vote, perform his 'duty', is all that intelligent.

I mean, if this creature is considered the front-runner to be the PM, there has to be something wrong with our polity. Who the hell gets a statue of him/her/it-self made holding that dangling purse. But if Kanshi Ram has a man-purse on, the ma'am might as well have one too.

This image of one of those over-rated directors in the Hindi film industry, who are respected because they have white hair in their beard and speak like a retard (thus making idiotic journalists think that there must be some deep meaning to every thing they spout) appeared to me like the best picture to capture the craziness of righteousness that asking everyone to vote in elections is, btw.

What also shocked me is the fact that 74% of Mumbai lives in slums (mentioned in the Rediff article that this pic was a part of)! I am moving there in a few weeks and the thought of being one among the elite 26% makes me feel so happy with my life. But also so sad for almost every other person I would be running into (the Maths is wrong, but I am used to being conservative in my projections).

Since I am in my wisdom-distribution mood, let me also crib about how obviously wrong Malinga's bowling action is. That Sinhalese bastard so obviously throws. Even if the Sri Lankan team is not evenly balanced (communally-speaking) on the whole, they are at least evenly balanced in terms of people who chuck. Muralitharan, who also happens to be the highest wicket-taker in Test and One-dayers, is the Tam chucker. One less injustice that Prabhakaran could crib for!

Carrier

2009-04-28T23:19:00.002+05:30

After today, I am convinced that having a job (or 'career', for the more ambitious of you) essentially means letting a part of you die every day, every moment. That is what they pay you for - to see how thorough a butcher you are, how comprehensively you become a part of the herd.

Investment banking wins round 1.

Das Experiment - II

2009-04-26T21:25:00.004+05:30

Am discontinuing the Cetirizine experiment. I did take 40 pills, but I ended up waking up around 11 am on Saturday. It's an ineffective medicine, though I did not get a cold despite getting wet in the torrential rainfall that Bangalore experienced Friday evening. I am not generally too sensitive, but getting wet in rain-water is a sure-shot way for me to get a bad cold and cough.

Cetirizine is not as deadly as the common Paracetamol, which I OD'd on a few years back, while home during a vacation from college. Paracetamol induces extreme acidity. I took 10 pills before going to bed at around 10pm and kept puking the whole night. By morning I couldn't even crawl from the bathroom to my bed and was puking blood. I had to bear lying down through 4 bottles of intravenous saline solution. And a very painful tube inserted through my mouth and my digestive canal into my stomach, to check if the bleeding was not from a serious wound.

It's almost like getting raped.

Since then, I do some basic research before OD-ing on medicine. If you swallow a lot of these anti-cold medicines by the way with alcohol, they give you a very long-lasting high. I am still not over the drowsiness induced by taking in 40 pills of Cetirizine along with good ol' Kingfisher Strong.

I haven't yet tried eating Iodex with bread. It's one of the more commonly known ways of getting a high. I tried doing it a few years back, but the smell was too over-powering for me to actually eat it.

Das Experiment

2009-04-24T13:55:00.006+05:30

My close friends have got so used to me doing things that they wouldn't expect a sane person to do, that they have simply stopped reacting now.

I have this occasional urge to conduct experiments. On myself. Using medicine/medical apparatus. I have heard that pharma labs pay people for such experiments, and if you know of any such lab in Bangalore, please let me know.

Readers who have been bearing with me from the time I used to write at my previous blog might remember me writing about inserting air bubbles under the skin of my arm using a needle and a syringe. The bubble doesn't burst and keeps moving around like a small ball for quite some time. It does hurt painfully if you insert too many bubbles, but the probability of you hitting a blood vessel is very low - so it's not as potentially fatal as some experts might have us believe. Try it sometime.

In a similar exercise to reach, and maybe even surpass, the very frontiers of human knowledge, I have been involved in this simple experiment for the last two weekends. There's this anti-cold medicine called Cetirizine, which is available over the counter at most pharmacies. It's got several possible side-effects, but the effect it has on me is that it makes me sleepy. If I take more than one tablet in a day I can be counted upon to sleep at least 3-4 hours more than my normal sleeping time. Of course, one feels drowsy anyway when one has a bad bout of cold.

So, I am doing this experiment where I am trying to see what effect a higher dosage of Cetirizine has on me when I am healthier. Two weekends back, I gulped down 10 tablets on Friday night with some beer and woke up Saturday morning at around 11 (I normally get up around 7-8 even on a weekend). Last weekend I doubled the dosage and woke up at 3 in the afternoon.

By that rate if I double it further I should be up by around 11 at night tomorrow. Will post in the results of this round once I am up tomorrow evening.

Quiz and Tell

2009-04-22T23:05:00.004+05:30

I have come across this Firefox add-on called ScribeFire that makes writing a blog-post easier. The only issue is that I am still trying to get the hang of it, and the long post I made last night got lost because I clicked on the wrong button.

Which is not too bad a thing probably, because my mood today is fairly different from what it was last night. My recent posts are indicative of the mood I have been in most of the time these last few weeks. I am sick of my work because there is no work, I am supposed to get some stuff done on my own, but I don't feel motivated enough, am bored of seeing the same people everyday, who keep cracking the same painful jokes. Even if things improve and life gets as hectic as it used to be back in July-August last year, I keep thinking if there's something else that I should be doing. It's obvious there are other things I would enjoy doing more, but I might not get paid as much as I get now, and that keeps me from thinking of other options.

Anyway, that was yesterday. Today, partly because of the amazing weather in Bangalore and partly because I finally managed to push myself to start a new project at work, I am in a much better mood.

Mood's also great because MnA keeps doing well. Without absolutely any proactive marketing from Menon or me. When we started formally last September, we had expected to mainly be doing college quizzes for a fair amount of time, till word got around and we got some corporate stuff once in a while. But, we have been luckier. It feels great to have believed that we can do this better than a lot of people around, and being proven right every time.

We just got done with a project for Public Health Foundation of India. The questions were supposed to be submitted in three stages, and we have received feedback (and money) for the first instalment only, but we seem to have done the job fine. A friend from engineering, who works at PHFI now, referred us to his colleagues when this thing came up, and we are grateful to him.

We have had a weekly quiz feature in a supplement for Hindustan Times in some cities in Punjab and Haryana for a few months now. They increased the number of cities where our quiz appears recently, so we must be doing ok.

And last evening, Menon conducted a very well-received cricket quiz for Hindustan Unilever Limited at their in-house conference in Chennai. I don't know how they came to us, but came to the right people nevertheless. From what the Quizmaster tells me, the 700-strong audience and the 25-odd chaps on the stage loved the quiz.

Here's to MnA growing and getting more interesting stuff to do!

Looking back at Dubai

2009-04-16T16:05:00.004+05:30

After my trip to UAE last year, I had written about my experience in Dubai. I didn't like the city at all. Even apart from the heat, there are a lot of things about the place that I absolutely disliked. Like the tons of things about the city that spell out artifical in big, bold letters everywhere. I was in Dubai for just one day, spending the rest of the time in slightly better Ras-al-Khaimah, but even that one day was enough for me to realize that Dubai would be one of the last cities in the world that I would want to work and live at.

The reason I am bringing this up almost a year after the trip again is this article I came across today. Even otherwise, I have been coming across stories of how the Dubai dream has soured for a lot of expats over the last few months. And some of the stories are quite shocking. If it doesn't go down in this downturn, at least in the long run I don't think the Dubai model is sustainable. Either its debt burden, or the bigger ecological burden, would do it apart.

Of course, in the long run, nothing is sustainable, so we probably don't need to bother.

Middle Class

2009-04-11T22:19:00.003+05:30

There's this series of rather idiotic fuel-saving ads coming on TV these days. If in my 2 hours per week TV viewing I come across these insane ads at least 5 times, it must be a whole lot painful for those of you morons who watch TV everyday.

One ad shows a woman thinking about pizzas for dinner just because she can save 20% on her gas bill. Is India's middle class so miserable that it needs to wait for a stupid INR 500 saving to have pizzas for dinner? Shocking!

There's another ad where an idiotic kid (what's with India's kids these days anyway?) says that he wants to open a cycle repair shop because fuel wouldn't be available to run vehicles when he's grown up considering the manner in which people (and his even more idiotic Ram-Kapoor-ic dad) waste fuel. If the people who made this ad had done the most basic research they would know that there will be fuel for a long long time. In fact, all petrol companies believe that technologies that would make petrol/diesel fairly redundant would come up earlier than the time when these fuels become difficult to source.

New Love

2009-03-29T10:48:00.002+05:30

I had decided not to write about my personal life on my blog, or at least this kind of personal stuff, after some misadventures at my previous blog, but I am so madly in love now that I couldn't resist it.

Yes, I am in love. Head-over-heels, and any other way possible. I am also pretty sure that the object of my love would not really mind me writing about it here.

In fact, for those of you who are interested, I am linking a pic of mon amour. If someone was this beautiful and this easy to handle and this much fun to be around with, it would be difficult not to fall in love.

Here's the pic.

Iraq

2009-03-17T22:36:00.004+05:30

The comment by Pi at the previous post, and then a visit to this page at Wikipedia, made me want to write this post.

I think I have said earlier, even before the last post, that I have lived in Iraq. I generally do not say it very explicitly because I am very conscious of the fact that this was a very different experience from what most of my peers would have had. I have friends from families rich enough to have had vacations in Europe and the US and all that. But having lived for a substantial time in Iraq is not something too many Indians in my generation would have done, or would get a chance to for the next few years at least, irrespective of how much money they have. The thing is I don't want to make it apparent how much I enjoy the fact that I am one of the few people I know who has been there. A similar feeling is what I get when people talk about Pakistan. I really enjoy all the questions people ask about these two places.

One of my friends has worked in Cyprus, and I envy him for that, and I imagine, even if it doesn't actually happen, that people in some way envy me for my experiences in these two amazing countries.

I have a strong feeling of deja vu writing about my experiences in Iraq, a feeling that I have already written about it some time, but I don't have the patience to check my archives from all the blogs I have written at. So, here goes.

The wiki page has a section at the bottom called 'Cement Plant'. It's a very accurate description of the place, and unless I wrote it in a drunk condition and forgot all about it, it must have been written by one of my schoolmates at Al-Qaim. I don't think anyone outside the colony would have known so much detail.

I lived in a place called Al-Qaim, very close to the Syrian border, from early 1988 to mid-1990. We came back when the 1st Gulf War was imminent.

My father went there about 2 months before us (my mother, my sister and yours truly). I remember the last night I spent with him before he left. I wasn't as aware as I am now, but I did know that there was a war on. The war with Iran. My mom's father had been particularly worried when he heard of my dad's transfer because my mom's eldest brother was posted in Batticaloa at that time, and then another person in the family going to a disturbed area wasn't an exciting thought. I remember I started paying more attention to the images of the Iraq-Iran war once I heard of the transfer. I was scared the night he left.

I was scared till I ran to meet him at the Baghdad airport two months later. This was a little after the overnight flight in Iraqi Airways, where I managed to get locked up in the bathroom. My dad had bought loads of chocolates for me. I actually remember the mint-flavored chocolate he had bought for me. I bought the same thing returning from Dubai last year and gave it to him. We reached Baghdad early in the morning and after spending a short while in ACC's guesthouse (where I saw a bombed building for the first time and realized how close the war was - a building just stone's throw from the guest-house had been bombed the previous night), we left for Kubaisa, where ACC had one of its plants.

We spent a night or so in Kubaisa, where I experienced the terrible desert weather for the first time. I was not allowed to go out during the day and every single place indoors was air-conditioned.

I can't recall whether it was before Kubaisa or after it, but we stopped on the way at Ramadi, one of Iraq's bigger towns, to freshen up. I saw the Euphrates there. Several times after that, I was in a car that drove by Tigris and Euphrates, but I realized much later the historical significance of these rivers. Baghdad has both these rivers flowing through it, and Euphrates also used to flow by very close to where my home was.

We reached Al-Qaim pretty soon after that. We were one of the first families to get there and more kept coming in the next few weeks. I think we had around 30 families there in the colony. These were the families of people at the management level in the plant, and many married men stayed alone for the entire duration of their posting there. Which would account for all the chocolates I used to get from many of these 'bachelors' who were probably missing their children back in India.

My school started off in the homes of the teachers. Wives of employees, who had specialisation in any subject, began teaching it. Till we got a permanent place for a school, we used to move from one home to another for each subject. I had 5 other people in my class. There were classes that had just one student. My mom was our Science teacher. So, on days my first class was Science, I would get up in the morning, get ready and then go and sit in our living room waiting for the other classmates to arrive. This didn't last too long as we got a place for school, which would double up as the club in the evening, where I used to go to play carrom and table tennis.

We didn't have any proper games or sports goods there. I don't know why it was so difficult to find anything in the shops. So we started devising our own games. Collecting matchboxes, cigarette boxes, milk cartons, every damn thing and making toys with them. Inventing crazy games. Going off to places we were forbidden to go to.

There were all these Romanian people also in their own section of the colony (I am assuming you have read the Wiki article). This was the first time I was in such proximity to Whites. We somehow got into our heads that these guys were maneaters. Don't ask! So we would have bets on how close we could go to their houses without being caught (and well, barbequeued). Though I soon realized that they were pretty harmless and spoke to a few of them. But there were no Romanian kids there.

There were some Iraqi families though. We befriended some Iraqi kids, but we generally looked at them in disdain because we felt they were very dirty and didn't understand even a bit of English.

One more new thing was seeing women in swimsuits. Some Romanian women had a swimming pool for themselves, and they would cavort in broad daylight in costumes that were too scandalous for us kids. And we would try not to stare while passing by. Or at least appear not to. I wonder how they got away with it in a Middle East country.

The Chemical Fertilizer Complex that the Wiki article talks about was visible from our colony. They actually released some chemical a few times that made all us kids playing outside cough madly.

There are far too many things, far too many, which I remember almost like they happened a couple of years back. Watching all those Hindi movie video cassettes, trips to Baghdad and Habbaniyah, the three-day state holiday when the Iraq-Iran war got over and when I got burnt on our way to Baghdad in a train, getting the highest rank among all Indian Central Schools for two consecutive years, playing in the first (and only) snowfall of my life, seeing almost every adult cry when the colony's sweeper sang Chitthi Aayi Hai at a function, far too many.

But the thing I still remember most vividly is leaving our cosy home that night in early September in 1990, walking alone in the house for the last time, hoping that I would be back some day to take back all my self-made toys I was leaving behind, leaving like thieves in a bus that was not allowed to switch on the headlights, leaving Iraq like refugees, leaving my dad back, with the very strong fear that I might not get to see him again.

My dad did come back safely, though after the war began. We were staying in Navi Mumbai with my aunt and the morning my dad returned I saw my mom run out in her nightgown into the street and hug my dad. I still remember that day. That image came to me every time there was a tiff between my parents. It reminded me what they mean to each other.

I didn't go back to my home in Al-Qaim. Very soon after our return, one night in the news I saw the colony being bombed to rubble by US aircrafts.

Days of Our Lives

2009-03-07T21:58:00.006+05:30

A lot of kids who were born in the 90s would not believe it, but there used to be a time called The 80s, when Disco was all the craze, Krishi Darshan used to be telecast on prime time on national television and Bappi Lahiri was God. It also used to be the time when I was in primary school, and India came out with the craziest bit of Hindi movies. The two - being at an impressionable age and awesome movies - make for an interesting mix, and I am afraid I have been scarred for life.

I somehow happened to come across a clip from the movie Tarzan (the Hemant Birje one) today on YouTube, and the very visible Kimi Katkar made me think of those ladies who regaled us with their outrageous clothes and outstanding dance steps and non-existent acting skills all those years ago. I decided to find out what some of these women have been up to since we stopped noticing them.

Kimi Katkar has a three film filmography on Wikipedia. What gross injustice. All that white-sari clad rain dancing for nothing. She seems to have married Shantanu Sheorey, the photographer. My memory of her: Arre O Jumma, Meri Jaaneman, Baahar Nikal...the music still sends shivers down my spine!

Sonam, the Oye Oye girl, got roles for so long for reasons I can't fathom. Her actual name was Bakhtawar Murad, which I didn't know till today, and she was Raza Murad's niece. She got married to Rajiv Rai and moved abroad when he was shot at during the peak of the underworld-filmdom dealings.
My memory of her: What else, but Tirchhi Topiwaale!

Ektaa, who had been acting as late as 2005 in a movie called Anjaane: The Unknown, saw the highpoint of her career in movies like Awwal Number and Saajan. She married Mohnish Behl, and thankfully gave up trying to act.
My memory of her: Actually none, but fleeting images from the two movies mentioned above.

Farah, the lady from a seriously academic family and Shabana Azmi's niece, and also the elder sister of Tabu, had a short-lived marriage with Dara Singh's stone-faced son Vindoo. What is she upto now?
My memory of her: Her roles in Marte Dam Tak and Ghar Ghar Ki Kahani

Shilpa Shirodkar, who wasn't technically an 80s actress, but is probably associated with that period, had her biggest hit in the madcap Aankhen. I can remember, rather vividly, her vigorously choreographed dance numbers, many of them in extremely wet conditions. She seemed to have married a banker, which is always a good thing, recession or no recession.
My memory of her: Her dance with Govinda from Aankhen, where she tells him that her dad's gone to the field and her mom's at the market, and so he should make hay while the sun's still up.

Sangeeta Bijlani, the third in the Tridev trio and former Miss India, is described on Wiki as someone who was known for her dance numbers than histrionic skills. Who am I to argue? She obviously got good value for stardom in marriage to one of Indian cricket's most eligible already married men.
My memory of her: Gali gali mein phirta hai tu kyun banke banjaara...

Neelam (Kothari) was probably one of the richest non-film-background women in Hindi films. Her pairings with Govinda were particularly successful, but that didn't do much for her career. A quick marriage and divorce later, I believe she is back to the Page 3 circuit and jewellery designing, the two last resorts of erstwhile celebrities.
My memory of her: Tip tip tip tip baarish shuru ho gayi...

Anita Raj, whom I remember mainly because of how shocked I can recall I was when I read in a film magazine (most probably Stardust) that she was going to expose a lot in a film directed by her brother. I was a kid then, of course. I actually can't recall a single film of hers, but I definitely saw quite a few films where she came in for the songs, or to provide a reason for the hero to beat up the villain. She maaried some small-time film director and left the industry.

Mandakini, who probably had the most eventful career of all. Being launched in an RK film at the age of 16, with scenes under the waterfall people still haven't forgotten (I saw the film at the ripe old age of 3 with my parents, so you know now why I am the way I am), allegedly becoming one of India's biggest criminal's moll, and then coming back to release two pop albums, she sure did interesting stuff. And, again, I didn't know her real name is Yasmeen Joseph.
My memory of her: Sun sahiba sun...

There were others, for sure, whose names I can't recall. Some like Poonam Dhillon, Padmini Kolhapure, Amrita Singh, Meenakshi Seshadri and Jaya Prada had slightly more successful careers. Others, like Hema Malini and Zeenat Aman, were kids of previous generations. And then there were Sri Devi, Madhuri Dixit and Juhi Chawla, who were far too great to be included in this list.

There's this thing I can recall right now from 1988. Tezaab had just come out, and I hadn't seen it yet. Uttar-Dakshin and Hifazat were the only Madhuri Dixit movies I had seen till that time. One fine evening in Al-Qaim, I was having a discussion on favorite heroines with some of my friends. I actually told them that I don't like Madhuri Dixit because she can't act and she is too thin. 6 year olds know nothing. I saw this very soon. And have been a fan ever since.

And lastly, I didn't exactly mean to make fun of these ladies. If roles weren't being written for women, and the ones that were being written had been cornered by the likes of Shabana Azmi, Smita Patil and Deepti Naval, these ladies couldn't have done much about it. Seeing some of the videos I have provided links to gives me goose-bumps. Marveling at how India has changed over the last 20 years would be one of our generation's favorite pastimes for the rest of our lives.

Two Cents on Pride and Culture

2009-03-05T18:17:00.004+05:30

First Cent: This whole obsession with getting back Mahatma Gandhi's personal belongings has gotten really crazy now. And everyone involved seems to be trying to outdo the next party in being idiotic.

Firstly, I don't understand why India's pride is at stake here if a dead (even if arguably great) man's slippers and glasses and few other things get auctioned off. Haven't some really priceless pieces of art and architecture been also auctioned off earlier? And, though I am not very sure of this mainly because I AM NOT INTERESTED, weren't these things already in foreign possession? So why this sudden fuss? The only thing could be that this is close to the election season. I mean I have genuine respect for Mahatma Gandhi, and a visit to his Ashram in Ahmedabad was one of the highlights of my recent trip there, but I am pretty sure he wouldn't have cared either.

Now the Government says that it'll go all out and bid for these items at the auction. Am I the only one who finds it really idiotic that they are openly declaring that they are going to bid anything to get these items back in an open auction. Opens up some interesting prospects for the seller.

And the rediff news article says that James Otis, the seller, 'wanted the Indian government to shift priorities from military spending to health care, especially for the poor'. Is the man crazy? Or are we?

Second Cent: I had made a post some time back about how Bangalore is looking more and more like Delhi each passing day.

The latest bit of resemblance is how this city is getting unsafe for women. It will take a long long time to get anywhere close to Delhi, but it seems all determined to get there. Such incidents have suddenly become very noticeable, so they are either just being reported more now even though they were always there, or some sick bastards have suddenly realized that they can get away with a lot of things because Mr Yeddyurappa has some very twisted ideas of what constitutes Indian culture.

There have been quite a few incidents lately where women walking alone in a jeans or in a pub with a man or riding a bike have been misbehaved with. And even slapped. By people at random. For no reason. What kind of castrated, low self-esteem, frustrated moron would slap a woman, and think that he is protecting Indian culture.

Bangalore is an amazing city, with a culture that people have unbelievable pride in, and not altogether unjustified. Even for someone who has been here for less than a year, it feels great being called a Bangalorean, being part of that community. So, it truly sucks when I see something like this spoiling what is supposed to be a rich, tolerant, beautiful place.

Even though, I am also sure that if I see a couple of guys on a bike slapping a single lady on the road and driving past, I would not do much beyond standing there and cursing them. Sucks.