Day 1: Mumbai to Hubli

December 6, 2012 4 Comments

Writing a road trip diary is difficult. A lot happens which is of interest to you and not to others. And a lot is observed which might not be of interest to you, but could be of value to others. Where do you draw the line? What do you tell? And what do you skip?

So, on day 1, in summary, we drove 650 kms, stopped at Panhala fort, had breakfast before Pune, and lunch at Kolhapur, stopped for the night at Hubli (and struggled a lot to find a room on the fly), and felt good about life in general. The mileage has been 14+, and my love for an automatic car has multiplied manifolds (I drive a Honda City Automatic). For those of you who wonder whether one misses the stick, now, the final answer is NO. The only question left was whether on a highway with significant change in terrain every now and then, would I miss the stick? After these 650kms, I am absolutely clear. All my cars from here onwards are going to be automatic. I will sacrifice the mileage advantage for the comfort of a good automatic. And with 14 on the highway, I am actually not complaining about the mileage either.

Panhala Fort is like the potential of Indian youth. A great idea with no tangible results. Two interesting tidbits – the west gate has hindu inscriptions on one side (Shivaji era) and muslim inscriptions on the other (Adil Shah era), AND the fort has 11 stories, of which only 2-3 are accessible now (what a pity!).

From a drive perspective, the only sub-standard stretch till hubli is after you’ve crossed Belgaum where since the GQ work is not complete, the roads become a two lane highway with no dividers, which effectively means a single lane highway. Otherwise, the drive is an absolute pleasure. I think the biwi got the raw end of the deal on driving (she drove us across Pune for a 80 odd km stretch). Much as my instincts kept kicking in trying to tell her how to do certain things (she has only recently started driving and this was her first highway drive), I think she drove quite well (insert a major proud feeling kind of thing here).

More laterz!! And yes, a comprehensive road trip diary shall also be compiled for the route we take.

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In Anticipation

December 5, 2012 10 Comments

Tomorrow morning, in all likelihood, if not tonight itself, we begin our road trip. The plan is to hit Bangalore first, and then hit the western coasts closer to Kozhikode, and then drive along the Konkan highways back to Mumbai. The trip should be somewhere in the 2500+ km range, and while we have 10-odd days budgeted for it, we are going in with a couple of planned things and leaving the rest to the flow of the moment. I said “in all likelihood” because I hate jinxing things by referring to them as being 100% in my control.

First, this might end up being the first real real break for us in a long time. It will be the first time in a long time that my mind would not be wandering back to the office or the work or the projects (the same can not be said about the biwi, even though the biwi is much better than me at leaving office behind). That does include the long break I had taken at the beginning of the year, which served as a reasonable vacation but didn’t really help me take my mind off work. And with me not switched off completely, the biwi has had to bear the brunt of planned imperfect getaways.

Second, I have a habit of trying to pack too much in any given day to be able to relax fully. People to meet, stuff to write, books to read, music to listen to, notes to take, tasks to do, etc etc. To the extent that sometimes the day never ends and the next day is already here. And I am hoping that at the end of these ten odd days, I would know that the world doesn’t end if I don’t do too many things, and better still, I would have a few more answers for myself.

Third, driving on long stretches cleans my head. It’s my meditation time of sorts. And I am not sure if it happens to you, but me and the biwi do actually manage to stay silently together for very very long stretches of time before (more often than not) breaking the silence for the exact same topic. Like that song on radio or the movie reference behind it, or that ad on the highway, or the car that we might have just overtaken. Somehow, we notice very similar things that brings us back from our reverie. In silence, we converse. But the short of it is that these drives tend to be a good medication for my generally confused mind.

Fourth, this, much to my happiness, and not exactly to biwi’s unhappiness, is probably the least planned trip for our 7 years of knowing each other. Biwi, like a true biwi and like a true female, loves to have a plan. Me, like a husband, and like a true desi male, is not fond of planning. I believe in that perfectly executed plans might give you satisfaction of execution, but they take away the joy of discovery. I think the word is Epiphany.

And last, I am a firm believer that while my facebook feed is full of my friends’ announcements of their phoren-vacations and ubercool DSLR-photoshopped photographs with 117 likes and 63 “wow! when did you go? I went their last year” kind of comments, there is much that our poor little country has that should be seen-shot-photoshopped. I plan on only seeing. Maybe some shooting. No photoshopping.

It also means that marathon blogging may focus on the road trip, OR to some mindlessly mindbending meandering musings on the road (example of anupraas alankar). I am looking forward to sharing something interesting. And if nothing else, the roads to take 😉

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An unfinished poem

December 4, 2012 5 Comments

As I wait
For it to be clear,
It gets a little murkier still
The directions, the roads,
And the destinations,
Seem a little farther still.

The wanderlust, the open eyes
The craving in the middle of the night
The blanket hot and cold the same
The reading by the candlelight

The solitary temple by the fields
The fireflies, the mellow dark,
The lonely walk to nowhere
The differences in colors so stark

A fish in the pond,
And a frog in the well,
Once taken across the timeless wheel.
A burning itch, and a soulless ditch,
No backward glance, a game of chance.

On these and much more, now I dwell.

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Mumbai Roads, Autorickshaws, and Zen

December 3, 2012 6 Comments

I enjoy driving. Much as the city has tried taking the joy out of any kind of driving, i still am in love with driving. How? I don’t quite understand myself. So, I can’t explain. What prompted this post? This, I can explain.

See. This morning I dropped the car for servicing. It has suffered some body damage recently, but due to some problems with the RTO, I was not in a position to claim insurance, and hence the delay. That RTO problem will require a separate post. Anyway, since no car and break time implies that I shall travel and little more around the city, and shall have to take the auto rickshaw. This post follows as a zen like experiential memoir. You SoBo snooties, don’t bother with this post. You have too much money to worry about the problems of the commoners. Yes, we can eat cake if we have run out of bread. Kthxbye.

If you have ever felt any doubts about the exact shape, contour, smoothness, friction, etc of Mumbai roads, you should take an auto rickshaw.

The backseat of an auto is Buddha’s shrine. Or the antithesis of it. There is no need to say Om loudly, and feel its vibration, hence. Every inch of your body feels every possible vibration every possible measurable unit of time. Sometimes, your teeth chatter long after you have taken the customary pissing break in the middle of the movie (assuming you took an auto to get to the theatre). The silence inside an auto reminds one of Kiron Kher im Devdas. Shotti. If you needed something to focus on, you could use the auto’s meter. These days, it moves at a pace that reminds you of stationarity in motion. And then there is the fluidity with which an auto navigates this congested traffic. Great way of learning how to deal with life. Rules don’t exactly matter. If you are smart, you can scare the big guys. You can brake to slow down. Or not to let the other guy slow down. There is no harm in taking the longer route. Because the ever changing customer’s loss is the stationary in time rickshaw driver’s gain.  The customer is the king that rewards the prajaa. And once you have been in there for a bit, the Mumbai auto rickshaw has the capacity to drown out everything else from your life.

Yet the thing that teaches me the most is the Mumbai road. Life will not be fair. Yet it can be called so. Its ok to get it 50% right. Because the optimist believes in a glass that is half full. It also tells you that – Traveler, there are no roads. Roads are made by Walking. That the journey is sometimes more important the destination. Every day a large sea of humanity searches for the road less travelled. And a few succeed.  You will encounter a road bump or a pothole when you least expect to. That these constant up and down movements that seem to break your back are a blessing in disguise. Because what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Or stranger. That you can stop a cavalcade with the power of an outstretched hand. We don’t need roads that resemble hema malini ke gaal. We have hema malini herself in the city. So the road shall resemble not her gaal,  but her wholesome self. Smooth? Are the state operators. Those who plan skywalks that need to be demolished soon afterwards.

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Batman: The Unfulfilled Fantasy

December 2, 2012 2 Comments

“You won’t kill me out of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness. And I won’t kill you because you’re just too much fun. I think you and I are destined to do this forever.”
“…”

“Well. Not this time. The Bat is mine. And only mine.”

SLASH!!!!

Joker loses his smile as blood gushes to the floor.

“And you Mr. J, are spoiling our fun time. Don’t look so surprised. I am the dark side of this dark knight my dear. Now, off you go. Hippity Hoppity Hippity Hoppity.”

She kicks him once, blows a kiss towards Batman, turns around and walks away. Batman looks on.

She called herself Fantasy. Batman had met his equal. His Fantasy.

“30 minutes from now?”
“Uh huh Mr. Man”, Fantasy vanished. Just like The Bat.

In the darkness just before twilight, Batman and FP are making out. The masks stay on.
.

.

.
Fantasy is dressing up.
“Time to go!”
“I can go for some more of the Prime time.”
“You never had a good sense of humor, did you?”
“Well. No. Traumatized childhood, you know.”
“Funny. You never spotted the opportunity.”
“But I did”

Fantasy smiled. And vanished. And Batman too.

Six Months Back
It started with the encounter with the joker six months back. Joker was becoming more and more innovative with his strategies. He had accomplices. And Batman was getting older. And slower. And rusted. Street crimes were fodder. They were not training him hard enough. And his encounters with Joker were becoming more and more laborious. And he missed Robin. He missed having a training partner. And an ally. Alfred just wasn’t fun enough. And Alfred didn’t prowl the streets with him.

She had showed up just as he was cornered. Badly.
“Need a hand. I am up for the job.” She said.
“There is no vacancy. Who are you?”
“Well then. Let me start my own ENTERPRISE. Mr. Man.”  The way she said it, it almost sounded like Mr. Wayne.

Fantasy moved like him. Precise, planned, gadgety without being crazy. Theatricality and deception are good weapons.

He had been trying to track Fantasy down, but there were no traces. There was no linkage to the crime syndicate. And the crime rates were heading south. Gordon was under pressure. Administration hated Batman and his flaming red haired partner. But like always, Batman was a step ahead of them. And Fantasy was a step ahead of Batman.

Seven such encounters later, he got his chance. This time, Batman was late. And Fantasy at risk. Bat saved the day, and brough Fantasy back to the cave.

“Remember Romeo. Anyone can be Batman…” She said as she faded. He left the mask be.

Six hours later, they made out for the first time.

“So, I can claim The Batman’s virginity.”
“And I can claim yours.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself Bat. You’ve been around forever. I am the sexy intern. Don’t be so sure”
“… ”
“And don’t be so sore.”

Three Months Later
Gotham is a safer place. Earlier, the weed would find newer places to grow. This time, Batman cornered them, and Fantasy cured them. This worried Batman. For he was no longer the threat. Fantasy was. He could protect Fantasy, but he could not. Just as she could protect Batman, but not Bruce Wayne. And in a city like Gotham, you could never be sure. It attracted the worst scum of nearby places, and its dirt had spread to other places. He wanted to ask her. But that would break the pact. And that would increase the risk.

He was standing by the bat signal. He knew she would be there. Or should be there. She wasn’t.

And that’s how it ended. The bat still prowls around in the night. The city is safe. But the bat is not. Batman is not needed anymore. But Rachel is gone. And so is Fantasy. Some place else, Gordon is looking at his family photograph.

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Talaash can be watched. But only once

December 1, 2012 6 Comments

** No Spoliers **

There are several well constructed and bewildering moments in Talaash, the stand out being the introduction of Shernaz Patel as Feni Mistry . The queerness of her personality in her introduction scene is quickly replaced by a reasonably mature albeit abnormal personality, sadly.

Let that not deter you because Talash is a very well made movie. Slowly brewed, gripping, especially in the first half, the movie is carried forward by Aamir Khan’s intensity more than anything else. The movie is also a very gentle reminder of how good an actress Rani Mukherjee is and how she has wasted her career. The movie further reminds you that Kareena is beautiful, has oodles of expressions, and is extremely lazy about acting. The others are props. Much as is being said about Nawazuddin (it’s fashionable to talk about him), he is just about fine in the movie. And if you set the bar by his recent performances, below average. Shernaz is a disappointment, unexpectedly. Rajkumar Yadav – good but wasted. Almost everyone else exists to give Aamir a chance to act some more.

In a world where bundling is becoming a common phenomenon, Reema Kagti and Zoya Akhtar have managed to compensate for the discounted script with some good background score (Ram Sampath) and good camerawork. The movie maintains the feel and the ambience and the colour pallettes of a good suspense thriller. The music is good and maintains the pace of the movie. Songs are not distracting. One of the full-length songs (“jee le zara” in the background) could have been trimmed for the movie.

The last 10-15 minutes of the movie are an unqualified torture on your senses. One thing that I am strictly against  is thrillers trying to round off everything and then continuing on for some more.  Simplicity is such a difficult thing.

You cannot avoid getting pissed at the gaping flaws in the script. And it’s very difficult to unleash your fury at Reema and Co unless you are allowed to criticise most of the focal diversions in the movie. So, I will skip to the biggest problem with the movie. It’s a movie that can not be watched twice, much as it is a movie that you would not mind watching once.

So, go for it. Before someone as idiotic as Kamaal R Khan spoils the movie for you.

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Sachin’s Retirement?

November 30, 2012 6 Comments

My response to GreatBong’s post on Sachin’s retirement and the comparison with Gandhiji.

Somewhere, most people are finding it fashionable to ask for Sachin’s retirement – legacy, quitting at the top of your game, etc. Well, sadly, most of us won’t even know what the top of our own respective game is. Maybe, that’s why, every text book on success asks you to keep challenging yourself for a higher goal. A goal higher than the one you’ve just achieved or you think you can achieve.

First up, I don’t want to pay heed to the comparison. It’s grossly unfair to compare the two. What Gandhi baba was affecting was the future of an entire nation and maybe his outliving his utility could be, well, a debate worthy point. What Sachin is affecting, and apparently adversely, is what a vocal part of the media is parading as ‘his legacy’. Well, first up, his legacy is his choice. Maybe he does not want the legacy that you think he should leave behind. Maybe its right now a joke, but probably true, that he wants to continue to be fit and performing enough to take the cricketing field alongside his son. Maybe after scoring 100 centuries etc, he still cares about that one more century, one more knock, one more extended stay at the crease facing the best of the bowlers. Remember what Punter said about old fashioned cricket meaning that he goes out and stays at the wicket for as long as someone else cannot get him out. More than he cares about his legacy. Maybe his love for the craft his bigger than his love for what you think of him. Just maybe. Remember Pancham? The great artist. The great musician. The one who’s revered. Remember his swan song – 1942 A Love Story. Remember how he got his “3rd and last” film fare after his death. And remember his failures in the last phase of his career. No? Should he have stopped playing music? Composing? To protect his legacy. And not given us Ijaazat? Or 1942? I believe that the world of Hindi music is richer by the coming together of those three geniuses for Ijaazat.

Pro-sport is an individual choice. Competing at the highest level requires many sacrificies that the average reader of any blog is not even capable of. Sachin’s actions may hurt your sentiments by having (apparently) caused a cricketing loss, but beyond that, there is nothing. To enter the game was his choice, to have treated his body with care (or not) in a way that he has outlasted his peer group (and you don’t see him walking out of the field or not fielding at the boundaries or not taking those cheeky singles yet), his love/economics embedded in the game – EVERYTHING is his decision. And hence the legacy that unfortunately exists in your head or mine is our respective problem. When he started, he started playing the name. What he is leaving behind is a legacy alright. BUT a legacy is not just the last chapter of a career that spanned more than two decades. His legacy is that a generation of cricket fans have survived, have not given up, and continue to debate Indian cricket. His legacy is a team that teams around the world don’t write off anymore. His legacy is the joy of watching great cricketing shots every time you pick a Sachin video. And the collective disappointment when he is dismissed. His legacy is the ability to convert the theoretical basics of cricket into geniusly creative implementation that you and I can debate for hours. And like a  corporate review system, if we’re constrained by the last patch to decide what the true legacy of this performer is going to be, that AGAIN is our respective problem.

The unfortunate truth somewhere here is that our selection committee has forgotten what they need to do when players are going through a bad patch. However, that’s true of us a nation. Gandhi parivaar should not be touched because they have a legacy. Everything Ambanis touch is corrupt because there’s is a legacy too. Don’t question your parents, because they are, after all, your parents. Asking Dravid, Ganguly or anyone else who was big enough a name to rest has always been a problem. Except Laxman! 🙂 A related unfortunate truth is that a player should give way to someone who can do the job better than him/her. In this case, we have had a serious dearth of options. If we had options, we would not have discovered the true genius of Laxman, btw. I could agree that Rahane and Mukund and co deserve extended blooding, but that could well be at the cost of a Dhoni, right? Is he performing with the bat? He does not even have a legacy. And worse still, he does not have a technique.

Whether or not there is a set of 11 players beyond this current lot that needs to be looked at is a question that should be asked, in all fairness. But, the debate cannot be about Sachin. Let the debate be about Indian Cricket. Let the debate be about what’s working and what’s not. What can be improved and what cannot be. Who needs to go out and who needs to come in. And if the answer is Sachin, the people in charge need to have the balls to say it.

And yes. If, in there, somewhere, Sachin is still your best bet to go out, take on a quality opposition and make a game of it, then let him play with the peace of mind that he deserves.

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Life of Pi… is a visual masterpiece

November 29, 2012 3 Comments

I enjoy everything and anything incremental that a movie can offer. Apart from the duration of the movie. So, watching a moving at IMAX usually means that I come out a touch more satisfied than usual. But IMAX or no-IMAX, Life of Pi is a visually breathtaking film. Its a giant canvas of a goddamn brilliant painter who’s used colours and patterns to near-perfection. Also, like most good paintings, its a poetry. Except that its a touch too long.

As I sat through the 2 hour 7 minutes of Life of Pi, there were several moments of drifting in your thoughts as you spend a minute too much thinking about what you’ve just seen. 127 minutes isn’t a lot, but is long enough. I can compare it to that stoic test match innings where the batting and the bowling are intense and awesome, but because neither there are wickets falling or runs being scored, I may have a tendency to switch channels, just to take a break.

I have already said it- the movie works like a spell. It keeps you mesmerised with some awesome imagination. The zoom outs and camera angles that accentuate Pi’s state of mind, his loneliness, the vastness of his world, and the insignificance of his ordeal, all at the same time. The surreal transformation between real and imaginary, the choice of colours, the scene of the ocean, and the empathy you feel all through Pi’s journey. It’s digital wizardry at its best. It makes you forget that you’ve seen much better performances from Irfan Khan and Tabu. Tabu has a small role, but she has traditionally proven her strengths in 30-seconds scenes. Somewhere, the need to have an “accent” (Indian, Indianized, Americanized, whatever) restraints dialogue delivery. Think for a moment – These are Patels in Pondicherry. So, Gujarati accent is good. Tamil accent is good. Even a bit of French accent is good. But the accent is a mishmash of several fake american indian accents. One of the big drawbacks of the movie for me was that I didn’t connect much with Suraj Sharma (Pi). I think his performance is just about average. It does not spoil the movie, but it doesn’t elevate the movie either.

Richard Parker is awesome. While there are several frames where you wonder whether Mr. Parker is real enough (which probably was the point), the close-in expressions of Parker are  a wonder to behold. They seem to be a right balance of a zoo-ed animal who’s wild enough.

The background score is superb. I loved it.

Somewhere, I felt, that the last 15 minutes of the movie damage it a lot. There is a “believe in God” angle that’s overplayed, and a drone of a closure as the Japanese officials interview Pi. You are better off re-reading the book sections after the meerkats incident. That section of the book is of profound importance but does not come out as strongly in the movie.

In short, Ang Lee stays true to most of the book, and has delivered a spectacular movie. Its near-Avatar, visually/digitally speaking, and several luminescent-blue frames will keep reminding you of Avatar. It’s worth a watch. In a theatre.

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Bollywood Titles: What’s In A Name!!!

November 21, 2012 1 Comment

Every time I hear about a bollywood movie launch, I try to imagine what the movie would be all about. Old hobby. Not one I’ve consciously thought about, but its there somewhere in the back of my head. And quite often, I am disappointed because the movie is nothing like the title. Or even related to the title. Worse still, there is a very low amount of creativity in this department. These days, we have resorted to making movie titles out of old hindi movie songs, for heaven’s sake. I mean the only thing that comes close to Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels is Love Shuv Tey Chicken Khurana or Matru ki Bijli Ka Mandola.

So, I thought I would pick 10 recent names and re-imagine their stories.

  1. 1. Ek Tha Tiger – A quality sports movie on a fictionalized version of Dhyan Chand’s story and the peak of Indian hockey.
  2. Jab Tak Hai Jaan – Just renaming Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna would do. But an alter version has six people signing a pact in blood in the opening sequence and this pact is given to a “protector”. Twenty years later, the world is divided into two. A self sufficient city run by these six families and a larger powerful adversary With the protector being the force that keeps utopia intact.
  3. Kaminey – An adaptation of 100 bullets for cinema. The families are easy to pick – Gandhis, Ambanis, Tatas, Kalaignars, etc. One thing I know is – Abhishek Bachchan will not be one of the minutemen. Nor Bobby Deol. Amitabh as Graves – that sounds right.
  4. Son of Sardar – A sequel to Sholay, where the son of the ultimate sardar – Gabbar comes back, kills Veeru and Basanti in the opening credits, and Radha plots the ultimate strategy to save the son of V-B. Jai is dead. Thakur is dead. Veeru is dead. Basanti is dead. Can Radha save the son? From the son of sardar. And yes. Sambha’s son will be there too.
  5. Student Of The Year – I’d get inspired from “The Great Debaters” for this. Show the legacy in the opening credits. And then, a quintessential underdog story.
  6. Talaash – Going in with the flavor of the season, this should be a sequel to Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron featuring the search for Dmello’s dead body. While Sudhir and Vinod are being convicted, they furnish the evidence (pictures, cufflinks), but the critical evidence is the dead body which Tarneja (thinks) has hidden somewhere. But this time, Anurag (Kashyap) and Imtiaz (Ali) are two small-time journos who decide to stand for their cause. And this time, we will have the twitter, facebook and blogworld involved too. Public opinion vs. Politics.
  7. Dabangg – The story of Vallabh Bhai Patel and the Bhoodan initiative. Fictionalized to some extent, but that should be interesting.
  8. Chakravyuh – I’d want someone to be able to tell a fictionalized but epic retelling of the Abhimanyu tale. Just that. I think the war strategies, what chakravyuh was, why it was so difficult for anyone but Arjun/Karna to be able to break it, why it required archery skills of the highest level, etc., will make for some amazing story-telling.
  9. Barfi! – The indian version of Chocolat. That brief should be sufficient 😉
  10. 20 Saal Baad (this is in lieu of 1920 Evil Returns – I have no opinion on that movie)– Art-house cinema about an aging couple. 20 years after they first met each other, are married, and apparently, happily settled.

Does it ever happen to you? I mean what emotion does a bloody title like Jab Tak Hai Jaan evoke?

 

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Jab Tak Hai Jaan – Bachaa Ke Bhaago

November 16, 2012 3 Comments

I dont want to say that Jab Tak Hai Jaan is a bad movie. That would be too generous on the man who gave us Kabhi Kabhi and Silsila. I don’t want to pity him after his death. I do feel bad though. His last outing was Veer Zaara, which even at an indulgent pace, and with extreme hyperbole, had traces of Yash Chopra that made it tolerable. And it had a bunch of good actors playing their part, including the music department.

JTHJ is a finely crafted bouquet of mediocrity from one of the most resourceful production houses of the country. Yash Chopra can rope in exotic locales, big actors, expansive sets, color coordinated choreographed sequences, so his is not the story of someone having to make intellectual compromises because he ran out of resources. His is a case of either dying at the wrong time (which meant that he did not look at the last version of his product) or a case of blatant idiocy. Given the extremely emotional end-credits footage, I will go with the latter.

For those who prefer short reviews, summary reasons why I disliked the movie (detailed later)-
1. Bad Script
2. Horrible acting
3. Ridiculous pace
4. Painful set pieces
5. Murder of some good music
6. 45 year old SRK as a 28 year old street singer
7. End of debate about Anushka’s “potential”

The good thing was that there were some 7-8 trailers – Race2, Talaash, Dabangg 2, Mere Dad ki Maruti, Khiladi 786, Twilight, and a couple I am forgetting. Also, the 5-10 minutes of banter between SRK and his friend in the second half is better than the rest of the movie (its a pity that IMDB or several other sources do not identify his friend’s real name). And yeah, one stand out dialogue, which comes from Rishi Kapoor – “Har ishq ka ek waqt hota hai!”
I want to spare SRK a bit on this movie. He is the only one who holds this movie together, despite not being the best suited for the role.

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

Side story: Someone asked how do I end up watching these movies (SOTY, JTHJ, kinds) – and a conjecture is that biwi says we are going, and I say yes ma’m. However, as you know, life is more complicated than that. It will be unfair to blame the biwi completely. I should rather blame it on my undying optimism. That some day, that one day, that once in my lifetime, someone in this industry would actually spend money on a good script and then back it up with insane amount of funding to create an end product that I’d fall in love with. So much so that I would come out of the theater only to walk right back in for another show. Philosophical shite aside, this is how it happened –

Mom-and-dad (biwi’s parents) are in town for Diwali. As I was leaving for the station to pick them up, biwi casually mentioned – “before I forget, and in case I haven’t told you, we are watching JTHJ tomorrow. 11 AM. So, if you were making any plans…”.
I said – “OK. By the way, is the ticket for today or for tomorrow? Since today is a chutti as well.”
“Tomorrow.”
“OK”.
Next day morning 10AM. “Shit! The ticket was for yesterday”.
“Shit. I asked you to check”(laughing heartily inside my head).
“Shit Shit Shit!”.
“We can’t book online now. Less than an hour left. Lets go to the theater and check”.
“Hmm”.
“Hmm. I think we will get it. Morning show hai yaar.”(Wildly happy by now, in the hope that there are enough idiots out there who would want to watch this one, and the show would be sold out. And then, we would watch Son of Sardar) (NO! You cannot ask me why SOS would be any better!)
“Chalo.”
Happily drives for the next 20-25 minutes. Asks biwi to go get the ticket while parking, hoping to get a call announcing the inevitable. Call happens. Tickets have been procured.
“Ticket mil gayee. Kahaan ho?”, she says.
Sends a curse up the air. Parks, throws a few curses under his breath, and the house-band marches on to Screen 7 of PVR Cinemas, Phoenix MarketCity, Kurla (the one which announces – learn to say Kurla with an accent- yep- that one).

 

**********

 

Now then, the detailing –

1. Bad script. The number of loopholes being what they are, and historically, not a real problem for someone like me, the number of idiotic things that happen in the movie are mind boggling. A man with a case of retrograde amnesia walks into a cordoned off area because of a bomb scare starts saying something about the bomb and the Brit cops are more than happy to let him touch the bomb and go about detonating it. Obviously the fact that its a train station is not so important. And that guy is a brown guy in a white country isnt either. In a separate scene, a chick strips down to bare essentials and doesnt feel the sting of cold air in Leh. Another man is sitting in a t-shirt. And when she jumps into water, the cold water numbs the senses of a national level swimmer within 5 seconds to such an extent that she drowns. But the other man manages to get her out of water, and comfortably drive away in his wet suit. Well! The bomb diffusion scene (first one) seems like a straight lift from The Hurt Locker.
2. Horrible acting – Katrina Kaif, by herself, is usually good enough to take care of the acting problems. The others, by halo effect, look like good actors. In this movie, Anushka and Katrina are fiercely competitive. Katrina wins by one expression. That is, she has one, while Anushka has two. Expressions.
Katrina has an amazing happy expression, where she is romantically running around or dancing or whatever with some good or average music in the background. Her second expression is one of extreme disinterest. No expression at all. She mouths dialogues, but the face remains the same, and as the biwi points out – her eyebrows dont move at all. At all! Now, pan the camera (slowly and romantically) on Anushka. She is better. She has two expressions. One that classifies her as the true born of a Punjabi family. Everything is – O Teri kinds! And the second is when she is the true born Punjabi who is trying to hold her emotion back but a traitor tear finds its way out. You know the happy sad tragic kinds. There is no third expression really that comes to mind (or screen) when you think of her.
3. Ridiculous pace – The movie moves at a pace which is in line with the old age parable involving a hare and a tortoise where eventually the slow and the steady wins the race. Unfortunately, no one in that parable defined till what speed can it be considered “slow” and for what duration can it be called “steady”. The movie makes you check your watch so often that if you carry a set of dumb-bells to the movie and wear a watch on both your wrists, you will surely come out with Arnie – biceps.
4. Painful and inappropriate music set pieces – This one is a traditional strength of YR. Remember “Aaya tere dar pe deewana” from Veer Zaara. Ridiculous scene but music used well. Ends with Shahrukh wearing a black shawl and looking on with intense eyes. Yeah. This one, however, sets up a dance sequence where KK will dance to her hearts glory (on the streets, true Step Up style) and discover her inner peace. Way I see it, the sequence features some good dancers as extras/foils who are relegated to the background, to highlight an amazingly un-graceful dancer (KK) and an otherwise extremely energetic dancer (SRK) who has a broken back and who is well past his expiry date when it comes to dancing. So, it looks comical. And a wasted opportunity. Maybe, then, that was the idea. And it bloody goes on for close to ten minutes with the Ishq Dance followed by Ishq Shava. Phew! So much for a generation which is fed Jhalak Dikhla Ja and Dance India Dance and similar shows at least 4-5 days a week (and with multiple reruns across channels, including news channels)
5. Death of some good music – Heer is a brilliant track. I loved playing it on loop. Sadly, once you’ve seen Katrina emote that one on screen, it loses all emotions. She spoilt the song for me. Thankfully, not so much that I can’t listen to it anymore. Likewise, Challa is a good song where the chosen voice does not sound like it belongs to SRK. And once you see SRK on the screen jumping on the song, it becomes worse.
6. End of debate around Anushka’s potential – Now I am convinced that she is not good for anything else but playing the happy punjabi kudi. That, thankfully, she does quite well.
7. SRK as a 45 year old 28 year old guy – PLEASE GIVE ME A BREAK, will you? Wasn’t it enough that Aamir Khan was playing a gyaani 17 year old guy in 3-idiots? That guy at least tries to look more earnest about getting his walk,talk right.
8. The movie is a barrage of set pieces where the lead actors (or supporting cast) have the opportunity to deliver some amazing cheesebally suger coated syrupy inanities. The kinds that when spoken in real life, amongst good friends, especially when you’re young, are bound to draw guffaws. Imagine you talking to your girlfriend, and saying things like – “meri aur xyz ki kahaani us adhoori kitaab ki tarah hai jinke panne umr ke thapedon mein dhundhle se ho gaye hain. kuch harf nazar nahi aate, kuch sirf khayalon mein hain!” I mean, really, do you expect your friends to empathise with this profound statement. Most likely, they will hold silent for, exactly, maybe, 5 seconds. And then, hell shall break loose. But anyway, YR is known for getting away with those profound moments, making generations of women believe that true love happens when there are roses blooming, people standing on the alps in nothing but a t-shirt, and people narrating love poems in uber cool baritones – jab tak hai jaan, jab tak hai jaan.

Last thought – Jab tak hai jaan… bachaa ke bhaag lo. OR, if there was a positive spin to it – “Dekh lo. iske baad sab kuch acha lagega, jab tak rahegi jaan”

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Book Review: The Bankster

November 11, 2012 1 Comment

If we look around the crop of current surge of Indian authors, there are very few that will stand out as writing taut, gripping stuff. The so called best-sellers are dealing with what I’d carefully classify as “easy reading” aimed at an audience which is still coming to terms with one of three things – English as the predominant language of their life, the perception of life at or around IITs/IIMs or other such hallowed portals (replace educational institution with financial, advisory, advertising, manufacturing, or any other such workplace and it would be the same), and lastly, a critical/modern look at the Indian cultural ethos (re-interpreting the Mahabharata or Ramayana, or a subsection from the Epic Indian literature that the generation of currently 30+ were fed on). The better Indian literature transcends these categories – Premchand had the ability to look at a common indian’s life, and so did Tagore. An “Anaamdas Ka Potha” from Hazariprasad Dwivedi had the ability to merge the philosophy of Aham Brahmasmi with the quest of an individual, and lace it with heavy doses of dark satire.

In the realm of one and two – simplification of english as a language for the people curious to know about Banking (and its pitholes), Ravi Subramanian has written four books before this  one. The Bankster, is a “financial thriller”, trying to trace the common origins of three stories – that of the corrupt insides of a large multinational bank, a socio-political unrest against a nuclear plant and an international arms dealer network. However, at its heart, its a story about a financial institution, and how the internal people, processes and attitudes create and drive varying levels of corruptions which have a second, a third, or a fourth degree impact on people and their lives. And by simplifying a lot of retail banking operations, Ravi manages to keep the book interesting.

The stories run in parallel till they converge, and quite seamlessly (even if a little too simplistically), except that the arms dealer track seems a little too subsidised while the banker track is overemphasised. This could be a function of Ravi’s professional background and focus on the financial institution story. The build up of the bank story, benaami accounts, fraud prevention, internal manipulations, corrupt practices, and several such small day to day things are captured quite well. Ravi manages to create a large number of interesting characters, but loses them somewhere in the grand scheme of things. Right from Vikram, Indrani, Tanuja, Nikhil, etc. to the Menon’s and their back stories, the Jaishankars, and so on. So much so that the end seems trivialised a great deal, and the nexus too simple. The faceless Joseph Braganza seems a little too puny in the end. The language, mannerisms and styles of different characters get muddled up along the way, with probably the exception of Tanuja.

Its the bank story where Ravi has got most of the detailing close and interesting. The arms track is the weakest, and has one of the biggest loopholes in the story. The way the third track starts building up, around an old man’s protest against the establishment, keeps you intrigued for a bit and shows a lot of promise. But then again, it collapses towards the end.

The book maintains a breezy pace, and is loaded with large number of small and interesting events to keep your mind busy. The Vikram-Tanuja banter could have been better. An interesting strength or weakness, depending on how you see it, is that there isn’t really anyone who occupies too much of space in the book. So, you are never too bothered about who the pivot of the story is.

I’d still give a thumbs up for this book and go with a 5 on 10. We as a breed of “english authors” are evolving and hopefully, the next one from Ravi will be continue to become better (I couldnt finish his previous one – If God Was A Banker).

Afterthought: I am very happy to note the kind of forum/audience a lot of budding Indian authors are getting now. Several people around me have published. Unfortunately, somewhere on this highway, our Hindi/ Urdu/ regional language literature is losing its way.

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com . Participate now to get free books!

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Culture of Whites

November 9, 2012 Leave a comment

As a young kid, impressionable, ambitious, and a little crazy as I might have been back then, there was a little thing that was sacrosanct. That someone who was really serious about his Cricket, wore the “whites”. The other colors were for fun. Like the Benson & Hedges tournament down under. The cherry was supposed to be red. For it to be menacing and serious. You get the point.

So, when I went for my first cricket camp, since I could not really have a separate set of appropriate whites for playing cricket only, it boiled down to my white school shirt, and that white school trouser that you were supposed to wear on a specific weekday, for example, a saturday. I had white canvas shoes as well. But this time, thankfully, big brother came to my rescue. He had played school league already, and much as it would have affected the monthly budgets, my parents had bought him a pair of cricketing shoes with spikes and everything. He had outgrown them, and they were available for me. A little worn out, but a matter of pride, because not everyone had them. And you had to go to “Main Road” to buy them in Ranchi.

But, in short, the whites were sacred. Once you donned the whites, you played seriously. The stakes became higher. The intensity, that much stronger.

And the players wore those white V-neck sweaters in winters. The ones which had a combination color rim around the neck. The colors representing your country colors. Indians had blue. Aussies had yellow and baggy green. Me and my brother had pleaded with mom to get her to knit one of those sweaters for us. And she did. And we wore them, and felt let like the real deal. Nothing could go wrong after that. Yet it did. You did gt thwacked around the park. Or bowled out for a duck. But that could happen to Kapil. OR Kris Srikant as well. It’s just that you felt that you were giving your 100%.

And you imitated. That wonderful Kapil pose. Or the long Kumble run up. Or, that menacing Akram yorker. Or, even Gladstone Small. Or, that Shashtri defend and take a few false steps trick. Or that Kris Srikanth twitch, walk to the leg umpire, stretch your feet apart much more than any other batsman would, and try to take on the Akrams and the Ambroses of the world.

And much as the game was called a gentlemen’s game, complain like rowdies whenever you felt that a decision was unfair against India. Be ridiculous about supporting Sunny’s walking out. Be kiddishly gleefuk about that akram yorker that brought some ofthe finest to the ground. And discuss the match for several hours after it ended. That hit and that miss. Quite different from the post-match package by Sony Entertainment.

And just as the day would be coming to an end, with a little bit of light still left before sunset, run to the ground to get a five over game in. You and your band of fellow gentlemen. Whites or no-whites.

Such was the culture of whites. As I remember it.

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Movie Review: Student Of The Year

October 20, 2012 1 Comment

Now, now! Don’t get me wrong. I was scared. Scared out of my wits. But I knew I had to do it. It’s one of those things you do for love. True love. And so, I did it. And to my surprise, I came out alive. And quite well, if I may add.

Student Of The Year, or SOTY as it has become, famously paraded for the gaana wala song, isn’t half or or one third as bad as I expected it to be. It’s breezy, designer led, well-edited, and with a heavy dose of skin show and brawny muscular aspirational crap. And it’s watchable. No, its not Heroine. It’s not Kuch Kuch Hota Hai either.

The first fifteen minutes of this movie are crappy. Really crappy. I have heard people review the introductions of these bozos with aplomb, but they suck. But thankfully, the rest of the movie is not as bad. Once the grand introductions where the under-age lady pouts with all her colors, the first dude murders a guitar (what’s the guitar murder count of bollywood btw?), and the second dude goes on to prove why we are such a wannabe soccer country.

After that, thankfully, KJo moves on to school antics, banter, reasonably immature doucheness in a mega-douche school, group of friends-turned-enemies, school stuff, and finally, dumbledore’s triwizard tournament opens up.

To be fair, both the actors (Siddharth and Varun) have acted well, Siddharth acting a touch better than Varun. For all the Alia conversations, she is what our industry has reduced most actresses to – a showpiece. She pouts, sings, dances, sheds a tear here and there, and gets a total of 90 seconds of acting time in a 150 minute+ movie. And yeah, she does not act that well. But that hasn’t been a deterrent in bollywood either.

The support staff is actually better than the core, and have a reasonably high amount of screen presence. The start is a little off-key for Kaizaad (played by Kayoze Irani, son of Boman Irani) but he comes back very strongly. Manjot Singh is kinda wasted. Rishi Kapoor has not been used to the max, but is good in limited doses. Ronit roy and Ram Kapoor hang in there. Everyone else (including Farida Jalal) has a 1 minute deal in the movie and they’ve all done their bit to keep the movie interesting.An extremely interesting sidenote is the behavior of families behind these students who study at this insanely posh school. In a brilliant 2 minute window, KJo smartly demolishes a lot of the glitter that went into the school.

The music did t really work for me as much. Surprisingly, Gaana Wala Song is still the best song of the movie, followed by Radha/Ratta Maar. The remixes of old songs is fine, but only so much. But there are a few songs too many. But then, KJo indulges himself when he directs, and accepts so.

Everything else is irrelevant. It’s a long movie which does not bore you. You may hate the idea of watching it, but most likely you won’t hate watching it. It’s KJo’s bollywood grandeur at display. And it’s a movie that will make serious money, esp. overseas.  I am not exactly recommending you watch it, but I did come out not hating the movie.

 

Oh, by the way, the movie has too many bloopers. So. don’t bother thinking about them.

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Movie Review: Barfi!

September 17, 2012 4 Comments

There is a point in the movie where Barfi, sitting in a store room, is carving Shruti’s name on a “Prestige Pressure Cooker” (jo apni biwi se kare pyaar, wo prestige se kaise kare inkaar), and he notices her inside the shop. As he tries to confirm, the camera pans and moves from blinds to blinds till Barfi is sure. Shruti Sengupta looks like a Bengali baudi should, and Barfi approaches her. But stops, and takes out his comb and gets his appearance right. He tries to whistle but obviously, he doesn’t know that his whistle is silent. And then Shruti turns around. They make eye contact and Shruti goes through a series of conflicting emotions interrupted by the honking of her husband Ranjit, and Barfi carries the pressure cooker for her to outside the shop – that 90-120 second montage of emotions – that’s poetry. And that’s Barfi – four cheese fondue – dipped in four of the nine rasas – shringar, hasya, karuna, and adbhut.

The theatre erupts, holds its breath, sighs, and (almost) cries with Barfi. It amuses you, and keeps you smiling throughout. It makes you draw parallels with several things without ever slowing down so much so that you start caring about the parallel more than you care about Barfi. It tries to be a thriller in the middle, and while you cringe about the villain being too much of a villain, it finds the hero inside them as well.

The music blends so beautifully that you almost don’t notice it. The lyrics are poetic and situational. The sound is Darjeeling. Remember the fresh feel of kashto maza from Parineeta. Barfi’s soundtrack is made up of quite a few of those light in the middle and effervescent at the outside poignant songs. In fact, as discussed offline, the soundtrack sounds more like Shantanu Moitra than Pritam.

The tragedy is never overplayed, nor the deformities. The lack of dialogues does not bother you. Ileana’s voiceover is a good supplement, administered as required. And it’s not soppy to the point where you feel like it’s a rooting for the underdog movie. The screenplay is tight and lucid, even though it gets into a two-three layered flashback at certain points.

While it is brutal to compare it to “The Artist”, but the artist of this movie, while imitating Chaplin and Rowan Atkinson, has left a searing imprint on bollywood. Ranbir Kapoor is brilliant. Make that – BRILLIANT. I won’t analyze further.

Special mention for Ileana who is breathtakingly beautiful without looking unreal, Priyanka who’s making half the industry wonder how did she pull this one off. The world’s wondering what might have happened had she pulled off What’s Your Rashee and Saat Khoon Maaf in a similar fashion. She does go overboard a few times, but is, on the overall, very very good.

Anurag Basu has figured out that the three musicians (three blind mice?) in the background are his lucky charm. They were there in Life in a Metro, and they’re here too. He indulges himself. Not just once. But you will forgive him for that. For many of my generation, the throwback on the eighties and nineties is nice, albeit exaggerated. And thankfully, it’s a prop, and not the point.

The movie, in a very Masand like preachiness, is not without its flaws. It runs longer than it should, and there are stretches where you would want to gloss over rather than go through it again and again. But then, which classic have you read where there aren’t a few pages of creative self indulgence! There are times when Barfi’s Chaplin moments could have been snipped out, but then, they keep the theater light as well. It’s almost sad to see Ashish Vidyarthi becoming a shadow of what he could have been, but then, it wasn’t a movie for him. Biggest gripe I have is – Ileana does not speak Hindi the way Bongs would. While it probably does not matter, but with so much of the region thrown in here and there juts for the flavor, it would have helped to get some of those details right (the way Kahanii did). Saurabh Shukla is good, but then again, the region is missing from the dialect. Considering that he and Ileana have most of the dialogues in the movie, it would have been good to have. The level of detailing leaves a lot, but that’s not going to be a complaint you carry as you leave the theater.

Some of the emotions are left unexplained. And that’s good. I won’t tell you which ones.

By the way, I do think that an older Ranbir will look exactly as he’s shown in the movie. And Ileana looks so gracefully old. Good job by the makeup artists for not turning them into caricatures.

Endnote: Lovely movie. A 9 on 10. When you come out, you stay silent, and in your zone for a bit. And that zone is a happy place. So, please watch it.

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Book Review: When The Snow Melts ( Vinod Joseph)

September 3, 2012 2 Comments

After a short gap, I again signed up to review a book under the blogadda book review program. First, about the program itself – I think it’s a great idea as it serves two purposes – it gives bloggers a chance to take their blogging seriously (with the realization that you might be representing something bigger than yourself), and at the same time, it creates a network effect/ word of mouth for some good books written by upcoming Indian authors.

The book that I lined up for a review is – When The Snow Melts, by Vinod George Joseph. I first came across Vinod several years back, when he was active contributor for Epic India e-magainze. The e-zine is long defunct, and so are the few forums where saw Vinod’s writing. So, it was good to see that he had published something, and not just something, but a thriller.

About the book

From amazon: Veteran spook Ritwik Kumar is sent by the Indian government to the Intelligence Assessment Group (IAG) in London, where intelligence agents from all over the world work together to fight global terrorism. The IAG has a few pet projects: nabbing Osama bin Laden and Mullah Omar is one; purging Pakistan’s secret service agency, the ISI, of rogue elements and fundamentalists, is another. Despite years of working in Central Asia and Afghanistan, things don’t go well for Ritwik at the IAG. Addiction to alcohol and gambling drive him to borrow heavily from loan sharks and even misappropriate office funds. When Ritwik’s senior officer, General West, gives him only a fortnight to return the money he has stolen, Ritwik defects to the al Qaeda.But he is a man who doesn’t easily fall in line and doesn’t share al Qaeda’s ideology. Events take a turn for the worse not only for Rikwik but also for all those who come in contact with him. Even the beautiful Nilofer, who is married to the al Qaeda fanatic and one-man army Junaid, is not spared. When the Snow Melts takes you through a dangerous world of diplomats, spies and fanatics, where appearances are deceptive, and danger lurks around every corner.

****

Now then! WTSM sets out to be a spy thriller set around an Indian spy working with IAG who ends up defecting to a pro-Taliban sub faction within ISI. Expectedly, the life of a defector is not too rosy to start with, since there are more people who expect the defector to be not that but a double agent. So, our protagonist, Ritwik Kumar, is in a hellhole soon enough. Or rather, moving from one to the other.

I have always been intrigued by how the best thriller writers set up a key event in a prologue which keeps you glued to the plot, and that exact setup that leads to that moment. However, my biggest disappointment from WTSM was that the prologue of the book was too simple a set up that could be smelled from a mile. X caught by bad guys, X in a mess, X shows some moves, but they are not good enough, and suddenly, X gets saved by Y, and Y knows a lot abot X already. Scene begins. You know what’s coming, right?

VGJ’s debut novel is an interesting effort in a space rather untouched by Indian authors. The recent barrage of Indian authors have abused the modern Indian male/female, life in the metros, IIMs/IITs/etc on the one end and adapted the Indian mythodology on the other. There is precious little by way of variety and style. That’s score 1 for VGJ. There are as many facts as there are myths about the Indian spooks, and you can be sure that I have been in the middle of some, given my family background. But, an interesting article to read before you start reading this book would be a recent Caravan article about the case of Madhuri Gupta. There are some minor traces of the case in the book, but that article is a good starting point if you’re new to the Indian spy world. Secondly, don’t forget that the movies have glorified spooks across the world to such heights that beatable, un-crazy spooks are not welcome, usually.

The book is a lazy afternoon read with a decent pace, but does not have much to offer. The plot is is highly predictable and the suspense not layered. The story telling is so obviously linear that it smells of a Yashraj film. It moves continuously from the same scene to the same scene without ever breaking away from the pattern. There isn’t a second vantage point in the entire book, which is its biggest weakness. If you’ve read two spy books before this, most likely, the plot will be staring in your face. In fact the surprise is that there is no surprise. From someone like VGJ, I’d have expected a lot more research into the subject. My fear is that he ended up writing the script for the next Salman Khan movie – Ek Aur Tiger. And you know that script and Salman Khan don’t quite go together, right?

The lack of context – the prologue does not explain the gambling and the debt, the IAG as an entity is never really explained, the set of caricatures that form this faction of ISI, the linkback to RAW, the way intelligence is collected, the rather talkative ring leader – these are just some of the loopholes or missing elements. The extent of stereotyping makes it worse. And there aren’t enough thrills.

The plot’s smartest setup fails because the protagonist talks too much… Or.. err.. thinks out loud too much. His doubt in the moments when he is with Niloufer, reveal the essence of the plot way up front. And the dragging end with Ritwik wanting to save Niloufer, was an avoidable mess.

So, in short, the book promises, but fails to keep them. On the positive side, the narration is breezy and well edited, and does not get boring at any point. Its one of those simple things you can do one lazy Sunday afternoon. or, when you don’t have any work at office and your twitter handle has been blocked by the government.

I remember what AKC (a friend) once remarked about bollywood movies – “These b****** have two problems – the need to explicitly explain everything. And, the need to have an explicit climax!”

If you want to read good stuff, read Mohammad Haneef’s Case of Exploding Mangoes. This one is barely passable.

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This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

Some of my other book reviews are here.

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