Zone Babatrigs

Movie Review: Saheb Biwi Aur Gangster

2011-10-16T07:51:00.002+05:30

Don’t confuse it with the classic original. Guru Dutt’s magnum opus only partially lends the title for this riveting drama. From the feudal Bengal landlords of British India, Tigmanshu Dhulia transports the action to the Hindi heartland amongst it’s relics of decaying royalty. There is this Saheb whose financial clout is tied to the strings controlled by his step mother. And he has a Vodka swigging bombshell of a Biwi suffering from an attention deficit and a roving eye, both of which periodically propel her into hysteria. In steps our laddie from the Jatland and slides his way into the heart and the bed of the Biwi. Wait a minute, he is the lover boy. So who is the Gangster? No prizes for correctly guessing that but actually there was a surfeit of gangsters in the movie, Saheb & Biwi included.The script of the movie is taut and each turn of the story unfolds with effortless ease. The story develops like it should and surprises you with nuances even when you are with the knowledge of what is about to happen. I loved the way the characters have been conceptualized. Jimmy Shergill as the blue blooded aristocratic strongman fits the role to perfection. He sums up the understated violence surrounding his troubled life. A neglecting husband, he kills and debauches with panache. His wife longs for fulfillment and sublimates her desires in alcohol. Mahi Gill looks the part. The political rivals of the Saheb introduce a mole in his household with an intention to eliminate competition but a heady brew of lust & ambition sees the Gangster pursue his own agenda. Randeep Hooda, as the wannabe banker turned jealous lover turned killer only seems to be improving with each movie but he had better come up with some star performances before age catches up with him. Deepal “Kanta lagaa” Shaw surprised me with her natural portrayal of a machinegun mouth village girl.The movie has an irresistible old world charm far removed from the familiarity of the multiplex & internet driven urban madhouse where disputes are quickly settled by a bullet and pursuit of pleasure takes precedence over discretion or propriety. The music is simple and superb, specially the Shreya Ghoshal’s rendition of “Raat Mujhe” which has a mystical & haunting quality which I normally associate with some of the Lata songs of the 60s. As a package the movie is a class by its own and a worthy successor to Dhulia’s student politics thriller “Haasil” but for a diehard romantic like me its stuff dreams are made of.

Speedy Singhs: Bhangra On Ice

2011-10-04T15:47:00.001+05:30

First mistake? See the original. Never ever go for the dubbed version of a movie. Never mind “Slumdog Millionaire” which was an honorable exception since no western expletive can a match a vernacular one. And the second one? Never take Chammak Challo for a flick with a Punju story line. Only this time she had a bit of inside support. Two hard core Punjus had accompanied us but were only appreciative of the end title song, “Sheran di kuam Punjabi” belted out by RDB & Ludacris since it has this quality of enhancing the aggressive DNA of all Punjus. Well, Chammak Challo gets to her parochial best whenever good ‘ol Punjus are seen to be winning, which thrills me to no end but gets her goat. These conflicting loyalties usually result into a potentially tense & explosive situation inside the cinema hall and the inevitable fall out is that after furiously slurping away on her cappuchhino (low sugar, if you please) she attacks my Diet Coke and goes on to demolish it. At great risk to my life and future liberty I usually hold my ground and continue to make approving sounds on the antics of the never say die Punjus. After all, sheran di kaum Punjabi !!
The kind of presence the immigrants (read Punjus) have created in Canada and other parts of the world would have been enough reason for Akshay Kumar to encash the potential of the NRI audience. “Of course” says Chammak Challo, “They will do anything for money”. It’s a story of an NRI punju who has ice, sorry.. stars, in his eyes dreaming of being an ace ice hockey player but has a-play-it-safe-in-life father bent upon forcing him into the trucking business. A washed out player ( Rob Lowe, no less) spots the budding talent and decides to turn coach. The resident gora players build obstacles in the Punjus quest for glory. The Punjus lose initially but go on to conquer the world. Everybody lives happily ever after. So what’s new huh? It follows the story line of all great sports movies of triumph over tribulations but what I liked about the movie was that it was sans unnecessary melodrama which is the bane of most Bollywood ventures. It’s also a whacky love story without getting too mushy and replete with classic one liners which must have been more fun in the original version. The heart thumping, adrenalin rising action on the skating rink has been captured most professionally. Probably the firang production team had something to do with it. But the USP of the movie is that it effectively captures daily life emotions of ordinary people with small dreams, professional or otherwise. I would probably watch it again, but this time the English version, for the sheer joy of watching the whole Punju brood descending onto the skating rink and turn it into a bhangra fest of a wedding reception. Go Punjus go !!
On our way back from the multiplex I sneaked a glance at the sulking Chammak Challo and saw the hint of a smile. Ahhh, a chance ! So promptly I gathered the courage to ask if I could get a mutton curry packed instead of eating the ghia prepared at home. She said yes. I blinked. Yessss. She does love Punjus after all. I plan to write to Ludacris & Co to sing a song…. Shera di kaum Garhwali. Does it sound right? It had better !!!

Romancing The Tune

2011-06-13T05:53:00.000+05:30

The Wind Flute, a traditional musical instrument of the Garhwal hills, played by a renowned exponent in his inimitable style

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2011-06-09T07:34:00.000+05:30

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Movie Review-Yeh Saali Zindagi

2011-02-05T18:17:00.001+05:30

Sudhir Mishra is not your usual run of the mill director and neither are his movies. If nothing else they do have a different flavour. They might not have the repeat watch values which used to define a hit but in any case in the age of multiplexes it’s a redundant concept. So herein is the paradox. You may not want to watch them again but his movies have a tendency to grow on you. The more you think about them the more you may like them. Having said that I do not consider ‘Yeh Saali Zindagi’ a worthy successor to ‘Khoya Khoya Chand’ but like I said it’s a completely different flavour.
From the romantic, chivalrous, moony eyed 50’s Bollywood Bombay, Mishra has shifted his canvas to the cussing, foul mouthed, criminalised, dog eat dog labyrinths of Delhi. And amidst all the uninhibited abuses of which there is a surfeit (I could see some red ears in the dark) there is an unrequited love which promises to bloom into a romance. But wait a minute, that’s not just the main plot. There is a romantic hero and a swinging heroine but the heroine is involved with a guy who is engaged to another chic who is the daughter of a corrupt politician who is the estranged master of an imprisoned gangster who engages a fellow inmate to avenge himself and kidnap the politician’s daughter and the guy involved with the swinging heroine but the fellow inmate (let’s call him the side hero) mistakenly kidnaps the swinging heroine which is witnessed by the romantic hero who decides to intervene and save his unrequited love. Whew! And that’s not all. In the sub plot this side hero who loves the easy money and thrills that the life of crime gives him is insecure about his pretty wife. So in between the killings and kidnapping and gangsta whirl he tries to find time to kiss and make up with her and probably in a convoluted display of affection gets slapped hard repeatedly. Sigh, so much for the macho gangsters of Delhi.


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Yeh Saali Zindagi

The movie has a racy narration. In fact it is so rapid that at times both the director and the audience lose track of what’s going on. It’s a situational thriller masquerading as a romance. There are the old fashioned flashbacks and then flashbacks from those flashbacks. It’s just after the interval than you will be able to put together the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle and may be enjoy it too. I think most of the charm (if one call it that) for the audience was in the earthy dialogues. The debate on the use of profanities apart, the audience seemed to be quite thrilled on the prolific usage of the nouns and adjectives of the words describing the nether parts of human anatomy in chaste vernacular. There was this lady sitting in front of me with a child in her lap who would throw up her arms in animated applause and shout “So cooool” every time one of the onscreen goons let loose one. I am not sitting in judgement here but it got me thinking if the audience tastes are finally changing and there is after all an acceptance of the cinematic licence to show the perceived reality. However in the department of profanity this flick wins hands down. The likes of Omkara, Peepli Live and No One Killed Jessica seem like soap water compared to this heady brew.
It’s unfair to judge the movie on only one aspect, howsoever all pervasive it may seem, so I will leave it at that. Make up your own mind. Chances are if you are a Delhite or from thereabouts you might love it. Those who mind their Ps and Qs need not waste their time. And those who enjoy their language mixed with the colourful hues of the Haryana heartland are in for a rocking time.

Movie Review-No One Killed Jessica

2011-01-12T00:07:00.001+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	No One Killed Jessica

A soul satisfying movie after a long time. Jessica’s story has been in the sub conscious of almost every news paper reading ordinary run of the mill , you hit me and I say sorry crowd and of course the couch potatoes who were for once stirred into something other than pressing the next channel button on their telly remote. It was easy to expect the routine tear jerker that everybody has read, heard about. I was surprised.
It ought to be the maturity of cinema development which showed restraint where the Manmohan Desai/Chopra Inc could not have conceptualised. Just when you expected an emotional outburst was a cut clip and a statement of what has transpired. Beautifully done was the deglam look of Vidya Balan and the outspoken, bad mouthing, in your face (that’s what the hot shot journos do) Rani Mukerjee. Some guys could have a problem with vernacular abuses but I and a horde from the Hindi heartland don’t. The narrative is understated and based on facts, which brings to the disclaimer of the story being a mix of fact and fiction. Legal issues could have been a factor but I could not identify the fiction apart from the christening of the characters. Hey, even the villain’s father looks very close to Vinod Sharma, the Minister. Of course the dilemma of a delinquent child’s parents could have been more realistic. However that’s a minor issue considering the gravity of the offence. Not to dilute the efforts of the media to highlight the miscarriage of justice I have to give credit to the makers of the movie for giving credit where it is due. Rang De Basanti happened to be released at the relevant time and was largely responsible for generating the public show of sympathy and demand for a retrial. For a change people reacted and the State responded and the rest is history.
The craft of the movie is appreciable but here it is the issue which needs to be procrastinated upon. Do we a need a Jessica to be killed before our collective conscience is roused into action? And do we need the stimulus of a Rang De Basanti to come to the streets over a blatant injustice? Why is it that we nod in acceptance over the daily and ordinary incidents of corruption which gradually dull our sense of righteousness? The end result of the sum of all this acceptance results into an environment wherein we prepare a world where human life becomes a remote entity. Easy to play with and easy to snuff. This is a way to sure disaster. The movie ought to be an inspiration of sorts. The fight for truth and justice has hiccups and trials of patience but the path is true. Pursue what is right. If we believe in the Devil then logically God is there too.

Movie Review - Aakrosh

2010-10-18T23:20:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Aakrosh

The subject of “Honour killings” was waiting to be brought to the screen and Priyadarshan has taken the lead in the venture which also marks his departure from light comedies in Hindi cinema. It’s good to be first off the block but the movie lacks the staying power to finish as a winner. What totally galls me is that a veteran director of over eighty movies hasn’t researched his story or the characters with due diligence which in a way certifies the beginning where newspapers clips on the theme are stamped as facts and the word fiction heralds the narration of the story. The deep mind set which propels people to execute their own and others is replaced as a caste conflict which is not totally true. Perhaps a better understanding of a potentially powerful subject would have converted this effort as a monumental classic. I also feel that mere depiction of the problem is not enough. An opportunity has been lost to explore a solution or at least the audience should have been left thinking on what could be. Perhaps the writer actually couldn’t figure out what needs to be done and as a compromise a quick fix solution ends the movie.
As a cinematic experience for the non discerning viewer it’s not half so bad. The motley crew of the ‘Bahubalis’, scheming politicians and corrupt Government servants of the Hindi heartland which have been repeated ad- nauseum are back again. Again the treatment could have been different. Please tell me where in our country would you find IPS officers (SSP and IG, no less) sitting in police stations in various stages of undress and constantly mouthing vernacular expletives. These guys are supposed to be educated, trained in an academy of repute and professional. The depiction of these characters is more akin to the less fortunate constabulary. Also, I have never read or heard of an army officer (incidentally from ASC) in NSG deputed for an investigation conducted by CBI. I guess the tag of fiction takes care of these minor details. I also don’t understand why the bad guys always get the benefit of ‘Beedi Jala Le’ or ‘Munni Badnaam hui’ or instantly ‘Isak se Meetha’. There seems to be a case here for the libido comparisons of the heroes and the villains. In the next movie I want Munni dancing exclusively for the hero. And a CBI enquiry in this matter is warranted anyway.
What’s good here? A pioneering effort on a subject that is ducked all too often. A good narrative, it’s hard to get bored. Bipasha Basu is getting slimmer by the day. I think she needs to act in some Kung Fu movies with Jackie Chan.
What’s not? Bad research, but I have said that before. The Devgun dude is still wooden faced and his wife needs to give serious acting lessons to him. Junior Khanna will do well to stop hamming like a fresher from the Methodist school of acting and be more of himself. Bips is underplayed.
There needs to be a strong reaction to a system which tries to control normal human emotions in the name of caste, khaap, perceived honour. Unfortunately political expediency prevents any concerted legal effort. Therein lies the responsibility of the audio visual media to, for once rather than concentrating on needless sensations, take up a cause which could actually stop the smothering of innocent lives. On the social responsibility scale, Priyadarshan and his team fails.

Movie Review- Robot

2010-10-03T16:34:00.001+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Enthiran

How dare you review Rajnikanth? So if at the end of all this I am hit by a bullet fired from a remote island in the Pacific which ricochets off the gleaming belt buckle of the superstar, it is not a coincidence. It must be the intended mode of my assassination (plain murder more likely). So at the risk of my life I do declare that Rajni’s Robot aka Endhiran is a must watch for everyone below the mental or chronological age of fifteen. To enlarge the scope of the audience Rajnikanth has reportedly ordered everyone to mentally reduce their ages to the desired level which I dutifully did only to find that the experience wasn’t disagreeable at all if you don’t count the two songs during which I actually went off to sleep.
It’s a sci-fi extravaganza which more than justifies being the most expensive movie made till date in India. The special effects are a first for an Indian film and perhaps they account for a handsome part of the crores lavished on it. It’s a pity though that money cannot be spent on improving imagination because all the effects seem to be a combination of Spiderman, Transformers, Power Rangers, Matrix and The Mask. The so called original stuff is in the classical overkill genre of Tollywood which has specifically been patented for Rajni. But hey, this is a pioneering movie so a minor glitch here and a major faux-pax there is entirely forgivable.
Surprise, surprise, the movie even has a story of sorts but the director could have safely cut the first half and no one would have known the difference. Perhaps there is a lesson here. The movie would have been a taut thriller but for the song and dance routine and the unnecessary love interest sub plot. Having said that what would you have Aishwarya do? I think she is being overpaid for just looking pretty and dancing a few numbers. Rajnikanth can neither act nor dance to save his life but then when was that a deterrent for him. And remember this is a science fiction special effects movie. Who needs to act? The borrowed Robot and Rajni’s two assistants did a better job. The best actor is of course Danny Denzongpa (I always loved the ring of his name) who is back after a long time and does an efficient job of looking menacing in his brief role.
Despite how I may be sounding it’s a good idea to watch the movie if only to watch the science fiction genre coming of age in Indian cinema. Its aeons ahead of the flying arrows in sets of three decorated by the constipated expression of Vijay Arora, a la Meghnath, in Ramanand Sagar’s Ramayan. It is also agreeable to sleep through a few songs if only to witness the climax which has been conceived on an unbelievable scale. And last but not the least for the coinage of a new word by Rajni, hold your breath...... “Robotsapiens”.
Lord, thou shall have to save me.

Movie Review- Raavan

2010-06-23T23:11:00.001+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Raavan

Barely a week ago I watched Raajneeti and had Henry Mancini’s theme of Godfather ringing in my ears periodically punctuated by a shrill Mahabhaaaaarat and here I was back again in the multiplex revisiting Ramayan. My perennial lament for original stories continues to fall on deaf ears. And Mani Rathnam is apparently a fan of Bally Saggoo, DJ Aqeel and rubbish of similar sort for else why on earth would a proven talent like him experiment with remixes. Now that’s my take on his choice of subject on which the Big B has not twittered. I am also not going to apportion blame here for nonexistent issues. Let me say the movie is watchable but only just.
It’s watchable because in this sweltering heat anything remotely connected with coolness, direct or vicarious, is an exhilarating experience. See, the action takes place where it could be anywhere between Chirrapunji and the rain forests of Amazon. Everybody is barefoot and always wet. Pretty cool, but where would you find a Bhojpuri speaking Ravi Kishan hamming away. Incongruous but still ignorable. Now who do we have here? A very beautiful and sans make up Aishwarya Rai struck with shades of the Stockholm Syndrome. Vikram, the Chennai hunk masquerading as Ram. He needs a dialogue delivery tutor. Govinda, the delightful Hanuman (I never liked him better). And the weakest character in terms of cinematic representation was the Junior Bacchhan and he cannot be blamed for that. Mani R slipped here. Why our heroes can’t be shown in a completely negative role where one has no regrets or justifications to kill and maim. A near perfect storyline was murdered by turning an epic action saga to a mundane revenge episode. AB could have been projected as a total villain who can cause mayhem on a whim but nooooo, all our heroes need an excuse to be bad which is all so old, passé, predictable and boring. The end of my thumb looks to the ground here. Mani’s Ramayan ignores the seductive Shroopnakha and instead projects a helpless victim. The only redeeming feature, if it can be termed one, is that a man’s naked backside has been passed by the censor board without any cuts. That also ought to be a cause for litigation by the ilk of Ram Jethmalhani. Reverse discrimination needs to be brought to a forum of discussion. )
Positives? I loved the photography of Santosh Sivan. The rain forest effect, the misty hills, the beautiful Ash was just too good. A R Rehman has again composed a forgettable track. The only redemption is the wedding song, which again appeals probably because of its vivacity. Great computer graphics.
Negatives? A potential hit narration botched on compromising with an epic and turning it into a Manmohan Desai masala blunder. I would have appreciated a bolder version. Keep Ravi Kishan out of mainline Hindi cinema and take a long a hard look at Govinda’s capabilities. AB Junior looks like a million bucks but would have been more menacing with lesser and toned down dialogues. A R Rehman needs to be reminded that there is a little difference between a Hindi movie score and an Andrew Lloyd Webber opera.
Just to feel better on a hot humid day go watch and feel wet.

Movie Review- Rajneeti

2010-06-06T18:52:00.002+05:30

Once upon a time there was a small time average novel writer who, as they say in the diamond fields, struck a blue vein when he conjured a believable story of one of the most intriguing entities of our time, the Cosa Nostra. That’s Mafia for the uninitiated. However the novel was an average success until its movie rights were bought by Francis Ford Coppola and the rest is history. The Godfather, the book and the movie, went on to become venerable classics of prose and cinema. The movie raged across the world in 1972 and since then movie makers across the world have been paying a perennial homage to it by consistently and dutifully stealing the original concept. Dharmatma & Sarkar are our contribution to this plagiarism and the latest is Rajneeti. But Parkash Jha is a smart alec. He has made The Godfather meet Mahabharat with thinly disguised characters from contemporary Indian politics and well, come out with a winner. So who do we compliment? Mario Puzo, Ved Vyas or Parkash Jha.
Well my vote has to stay with Jha. Having lost twice in the general elections he is no stranger to the rough and tumble of Indian politics and he has successfully captured the dirt and grime of electoral machinations. But at the same time it was a little disturbing to see the portrayal of people controlling the fate of millions plan a clinical execution of gruesome violence. Not once in a single character there is a hint of hesitation or fear of law or retribution. It’s done because it’s required to be done. Cynicism apart it is a little scary to imagine that there are real life people like that. The reality of politics which feeds on money, muscle and manipulation has been skilfully transported to the screen and as a purely cinematic experience it is thrilling and so relentlessly engrossing that one doesn’t feel as if one has sat through a three hour movie which barely has any song and dance routine.


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Raajneeti

The story is an unabashed saga of dynastic politics. The pace of narration is so immediately swift that it takes a while to identify the who’s who of the story. The players are all so recognizable and half the fun is in identifying the character with the politicians of our times. Jha has of course made his disclaimer but there are parallels which are too obvious to ignore. Do successive assassinations in the family and finally the daughter in law donning the political mantle ring a bell? Almost all the actors with the exception of Ajay Devgun have done commendable jobs. He really needs to get his act together. Wooden faced brooding is not acting. Ranbir Kapoor is the pick of the lot for his portrayal of the ruthless behind the scenes Machiavelli. For once Nana Patekar doesn’t scream his guts out. He plays a smiling Lord Krishna of sorts and is aptly named Brij Gopal. On the lighter side there is one great tradition of Hindi movies which has been left undisturbed here. There are three main female characters all of whom promptly become pregnant on sleeping with their beaus. Bollywood still seems unfamiliar with safe sex and with this kind of fertility we will never be able to check our growth rate.
Since cricket and politics are two things which the Indian populace never gets tired of ,Rajneeti is going to touch a nerve of every audience. We swear by our families and therefore despite protestations of nepotism have come to accept and tolerate dynastic politics. And finally here is a movie glorifying all that and we are going to happily lap it up.

Movie Review- Badmash Company

2010-05-15T18:57:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Badmaash Company

At any age anything fresh is good and at my age a reminder of how things were is better. So that is how the movie starts with a “Company” which is seems promising. Badmash, well, ok, so be it. We are initiated with the things that were. Good old Doordarshan, parental pressure to excel in studies (so what’s new?), rickety auto rickshaws, the lure of everything foreign. A group of friends decide to be carriers for a sleazy smuggler who darlings everyone. One off trip to the South East (when things were cheaper there) gives them adequate moolah and a temptation for more.
While the rest of the crowd is your average Johnny wanna make more money, our hero who is the classic topper of the college has his head swinging with dreams of riches. Anupam Kher has made a career out of his performances of the do gooder, middle class, never be secure, sermonizing father. He does no less here and succeeds in expelling his only son from his life. Not to be deterred the son embarks on plans which seem legal only on celluloid. While the background of the story is set in the Doordarshan era, the director conveniently switches gear to the reformation age of Dr Manmohan Singh who in one budgetary stroke throws a spanner in the spokes of our hero’s business. The phoenix needs to resurge and where else but in the land of everlasting opportunity (as well as the most incompetent- they get equal opportunities too). U S A.
The heroes of Bollywood rarely get to slog, so why should Shahid Kapoor. With SK’s beer swilling, chic ogling friends and an ever ready lover Uncle Sam hardly stands a chance. The first round always belongs to the risk takers and so it happens. Parmeet Sethi has obviously been following the stories of the global recession and the subprime crisis and ought to rewarded for using the subject for furthering the narration of his story where the hero takes a cue from the financial giants of the west and makes millions from repeated sales of an undervalued property. The easy millions and promise of more rip apart the bonds of the friends. One goes the way of the Bacchus, the other for the fairer sex and hero with his delusions of grandeur banishes the love of his life.
Nemesis comes hard and after the statutory incarceration our man starts on the road to redemption. So where does that leave the viewer? The movie is entertaining for the non discerning viewer. There is no message but there is no in your face, oh its pure entertainment kind of stuff either. The essence of the story seems to have got lost in the presentation of the gloss of high life. The shades of gray of the characters are cool and the vivaciousness and independence of the female lead is cooler. There needed to be a greater balance in the strong characters portrayed and the events which overtake them. The director has faltered but only just. The hero takes off on a rebellious path only to end up pleasing his father in the end. Can’t we have a pure villainous hero please? A wicked smile in the final scene would be so much better that the mushy family reunions.

2010-05-13T15:58:00.001+05:30

Volunteers say ‘Let’s do it Delhi’- Hindustan Times

2010-03-21T11:12:00.000+05:30

Volunteers say ‘Let’s do it Delhi’- Hindustan Times

Movie Review- Karthik Calling Karthik

2010-03-02T06:21:00.001+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Kartik Calling Kartik

This movie is unlikely to make it to the wish list of ‘aam aadmi’ but the discerning cinema buff is going to love it. Farhan Akhtar has proved his talent time and again and he hasn’t disappointed this time either. It’s being promoted by the multiplexes as a thriller but I would like it to be specifically categorised as a suspense drama. And, what a drama! In true Hitchcockian style the suspense is not revealed almost to the end. Of course the medically inclined start having an idea of what’s it’s all about half way into the movie but therein lies the excellence in crafting the narrative. We all know that we are witnessing an impossible situation but the director keeps you thinking about possibilities and even then manages to spook you into believing otherwise.
Farhan plays Karthik the classical white collared pen pusher who is constantly steam rolled into submission by his overbearing boss and riddled with the guilt of having caused the death of his brother in his childhood. Deepika Padukone is the bindaas architect in the same company and also the girl of his dreams who is always looking through his insignificant self. A silent lover he constantly pours his feeling into the numerous mails to her which are always saved as a draft and never sent. Despite his hard work in the office he gets sacked. Alone, without a job, without a girl and after days of mindless punching of the buttons of the television remote and rotating the Rubik’s cube he decides to kick the bucket. Just as he about to pop a few dozen sleeping pills, the phone rings. The voice on the other end who too calls himself Karthik becomes the road to redemption for this also ran creature and metamorphoses’ him into a slick go getter who is re hired by his bully boss with all the money and perks of a hot shot executive. The current lover of Deepika is literally slapped out of her life and in walks our man Karthik oozing charm and sensitivity. The voice on the other end of the phone constantly monitors its student’s upward progress. Everything is perfect? There is a rider. No one is to know that Karthik is calling Karthik. Split between the loyalties to the woman of his dreams and his mentor, Karthik is called upon to make a Faustian choice. The rest of the movie is about the repercussions of his actions.
Its serious stuff but the movie is replete with the classical one liners which are becoming a Farhan hallmark. It’s crazy humour one minute which acquires dark hues in another. The use of Rubik’s cube throughout the movie is a particular deft touch which needs to be interpreted by the viewer. The music by Shanker Ehsan Loy is good as always especially the title song but the surprise package here was the fantastic background score by the rock band Midival Punditz ably assisted by the US based Karsh Kale. I found the movie really good but go and make up your own mind

Movie Review-My Name Is Khan

2010-02-13T08:13:00.001+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	My Name is Khan

With the quality of movie making escalating recently it has become rather likely that you come across a movie which leaves you gasping in wonder or split with laughter or thrilled with heart thumping action. Movies that you enjoy but get over soon after you leave the hall. Karan Johar is known for making slick tear jerkers and I had really not expected anything different this time round either. But ‘My Name Is Khan’ blew me away. It’s a rare classic and would be rated so in the annals of Hindi cinema.
Religion is always a tricky subject to deal with and Hindi movies have usually been either way too clichéd or unnecessarily melodramatic, often losing sight of the core issue. In today’s times the scourge of terrorism has affected ordinary lives the world over and yet most of us have sensitised ourselves into reading and watching news reports on rampant killing, shaking our heads and making meaningless noises. Remember Mumbai? Well this movie is a chronicle of the domino effect that unrelated events cause in the personal lives of ordinary people. Oh, did I say ordinary? Well almost! It’s a tale of love between an autistic man and a divorcee hairdresser played out by Kajol and Shahrukh Khan. While Kajol’s craft is expected it’s Shahrukh’s show all the way. He has played the role of an autistic man to near perfection. He marries Kajol after pursuing her with relentless determination and single minded honesty. To me those are the key factors which cement any lasting relationship. Post 9/11, uncontrolled events lead to the beating and eventual demise of Kajol’s son from her first marriage. The grieving mother loses control and blames the killing on the surname Khan and orders him to leave. He immediately accepts the diktat of his love and innocently asks when he can come back? Enraged she gives him the near impossible task of declaring and convincing the whole world that although he is a Muslim he is not a terrorist. So real! How quick we all are to brand an entire community because of the acts of a few. Sikhs in 1984, Muslims in 1993 and well the world changed after the Twin Towers were brought down by a few fanatics. The rape of Iraq is still on and coffins of ordinary men continue to roll. What happened to the love for your fellow man, the respect of human life? The mindset of the autistic Khan knows only one thing. Fulfil his mission by meeting the President of USA and making his declaration of innocence. Thus starts his epic journey across America. Shades of Forrest Gump? Yes, but for once I am not complaining. Along the way he is mistaken for a terrorist and thrown into a prison a la Guantanamo and tortured for information. The media takes up his case (Star News breaking news again!!) and the man is released but he returns to help friends in a hurricane hit village. He eventually does complete his mission and is reunited with his lady love. That’s the story but the narrative conveys a compelling message. The essential goodness and determination of man ultimately prevails over terror and fanaticism. And even in these impersonal times there is recognition of human values which are and will remain timeless. It’s this message of universal brotherhood that to my mind is the appropriate reply to the lumpen goons of Shiv Sena. Reading today’s paper about the movie goers’ response in Mumbai has only reaffirmed my belief. Go and watch the movie. It brings a lump to your throat which refuses to go away long after it’s over.

Movie Review- 3 Idiots

2009-12-28T18:24:00.001+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Three Idiots

Raju Hirani and Vidhu Vinod Chopra with the combined legacy of Munnabhai , 1942 A love Story, Mission Kashmir and Parineeta have a rich heritage of powerful cinema behind them and this time around they have been more than equal to the responsibility of living up to the high standards they have set for themselves. Add Aamir Khan and it becomes an irresistible trio and it was not disappointing. If anything the bar has been raised yet another notch.
First and foremost I do not have my oft repeated complain of a weak or a zero storyline. Chetan Bhagat’s Five Point Someone has been loosely adapted into a powerful narrative of human emotions and at the same time is a telling commentary on the present system of education where emphasis is laid on learning by rote rather than encouraging innovation and lateral thinking. It recognises that the orthodox and conventional stream of thought wherein the middle class redemption lies in attainment of an engineering or medical degree which forces the unwilling victims to compromise on their dreams often with disastrous consequences.
The story starts with a search for Rancho, a friend of friends, by Sharman Joshi and Madhvan accompanied by yet another class mate Silencer, so named for his propensity of letting go silent bursts of gas expulsions through his rear end. Their not so aromatic journey brings back the memories of their college days. Ahh, isn’t it the best time for just about anyone? And if you have been a hosteller, well, you would relive all the good times you had or wished that you had. The main protagonist is Rancho, never mind the full name but a thinker, a dreamer, a rebel, a scholar and a yaaron ka yaar. He constantly slips in and out of classes seeking knowledge and substituting simple and straight answers where profoundness is expected by stuck up teachers. Boman Irani comes up with another class act as the Director of the engineering college but looks suspiciously like Einstein which I guess was by design rather than accident. Nonetheless he delivers a flawless performance as a uncompromising teacher. The movie traces the lives of the three friends through college. Questions are raised about the path they have chosen, their aspirations of what they really want from their lives versus their loyalties to parents and friends. Heavy stuff, I know, but portrayed beautifully and with loads of rib tickling humour. A special mention must be made of the welcome speech made by Silencer which is surreptitiously changed by Aamir to get back at him for his pompous ways. It had my considerable self falling out of the seat. There are way too many such episodes in the movie to merit a mention here but each is executed with near perfection.
Kareena proves yet again that given a good role she can sparkle. Praeekshat Sahni has not forgotten to be loud, so you may dismiss him. The music is great and happily Vidhu Chopra has not flicked a western song and got ‘inspired’ by it. Perhaps the talented duo of Sawanand Kirkire and Shantanu Moitra has something to do with it. The movie is heart warming and a laugh riot but not perfect. There are quite a few impossible situations but you quickly get over them in the larger interest of wholesome entertainment. All in all...Alllll Eezz Welll. Go watch and freak out.

Movie Review-Avatar

2009-12-23T07:33:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Avatar

After the gross depiction of aliens in countless and forgettable Hollywood movies they were first made to look believable by the quintessential story teller Steven Spielberg in ‘E.T’. Unlike the blood thirsty inter galactic traveller of the yore E.T was almost human, loving, happy and sad in equal measure. It still gives me goose bumps when I remember his lingering cry to go home. James Cameron has made a huge attempt to take this concept to a whole new level.
Without any knowledge of the story I was pretty intrigued by the title of the movie which is an integral part of the Hindu belief. The story per se is not really novel. The conflict between industrialisation (growth) and the inhabitants it usually displaces (is resettles politically correct?) is what one reads about in newspapers in different parts of the world everyday and which gives the likes of Brinda Karat and Arundhati Roy something to wail about in their free time. However it’s the execution of the vision that sets apart Cameron from rest of the pack. The scale of the movie to understate the obvious is colossal. Set in the year 2154(who chose the number and why could be another story) we are taken to a moon called Pandora (very appropriate name for the number of tricks in its bag). The humans are led by an abrasive corporate honcho in charge of mining operations for something called ‘unobtanium’ which sells on mother earth for $20 million a kilo. Even after adjusting for 145 years of inflation that’s far more than humans would happily kill for. The honcho has a security chief who looks suspiciously like GI Joe to carry out the dirty tricks. And Sigourney Weaver, who turned a brunette for the movie, returns as a scientist engaged in a project to understand and connect with the local inhabitants. The locals are called the Na’vi , blue skinned and all of nine feet tall. Sigourney’s project involves usage of human and Na’vi DNA to reengineer a hybrid Na’vi which can be mentally controlled by the human whose DNA has been used. A new avatar, so to speak. Sam Worthington plays the main lead of a paraplegic former marine who is reluctantly allowed in the Avatar programme by Sigourney. Once admitted he finds a new world where he can walk, run and love.
Despite the fact that the story is set way into the future in a place four and half light years away the perennial human emotive conflicts, the greed for more, the compulsive desire to subjugate the weak, the irrepressible retaliatory spirit of the brave forces one to think that the more we change the more we remain the same. A pressing need of the awareness of preservation of environment which cannot come too soon finds a voice in the hopeless cries of the original and genuine and well, the primitive inhabitants. The love interest is unorthodox and endearing but does not catch the intense rapport of Jack and Rose in Titanic. It’s even unfair to compare the two but then Mr Cameron has spent half a billion dollars in making a flick replete with advanced digital imagery and the effect is spectacular. Shall I take my hat off to him ? Okkk, yes, but, he scores and he misses.
A movie which costs as much as advertised ought not to have even a hint of what’s seen or heard in the public domain. “I see you” is a greeting by the Matable tribe in Africa and the bush men of the Kalahari. The emotional connect between the warrior Na’vi and the colourful raptors they fly are strongly reminiscent of similar relationship of dragon riders of ‘Eragon ‘. It looks great in the movie but faintly disappointing. He has spun a believable yarn and was almost there but not quite. Maybe the proposed sequel is better.

Movie Review-Rocket Singh-Salesman of The Year

2009-12-18T07:45:00.001+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Rocket Singh

It’s only after the classic Jeewan Mrityu that I have seen a Bollywood movie showing a Sikh adorned with an appropriately tied turban. ”Singh is King” did show a heartening glimpse of Akshay Kumar in a traditional turban but then those shots were of the Punjab heartland and then they ruined it all by making him wear a cap like head gear for the rest of the movie. The makers of Rocket Singh seem to have researched a bit and a big hug to them for that. Another collective vote of thanks from the Punjabi consciousness is in order for not making the movie’s two Sikh characters of the Balle Balle and the Pairee Pauna variety. Aaarrrrgh, it gets my goat every time. A sober, quietly submissive, urbane but a resolute Sikh in a Bollywood feature? This was a first from Mumbai and I hope we get many more of them. The poor fellas are grossly misunderstood the world over but none more than by their own countrymen. Okay, politics over and now let’s get back to business.
Rocket Singh- Salesman of the Year is actually Harpreet Singh Bedi, a young lad full of beans and keen to make a place for himself under the sun. His shoulders are unburdened by the bare pass marks through his school and college days. Percentages between the 30s and the 40s are cheerfully rattled off to bewildered listeners while maintaining a supremely confident demeanour. That’s a typical surdy boy for you. So what does a young, over confident, under scoring and barely qualifying lad hope to become? You guessed it! He also gets the job but there is a slight problem. Our man has a conscience, a commodity steadily disappearing from our lives. His unwillingness to succumb to the scheming wheeling and dealing ways of the conventional salesmen sees him warming his chair in his office while his targets are distributed to his grumbling colleagues. They respond by jibing and throwing paper planes (rockets) at him. This and the frustration of forced inactivity propel him to independently make his own foray into the cut throat world of sales. Most of such stories have happy endings and this one is no exception.
The story is refreshing and the narrative engrossing. It’s almost childlike in its effort to reinforce the values taught in the moral science classes in school and why not? Today’s single minded pursuit of money and power (or was it always like that?) does make us gloss over some innate qualities of a good human being. Epithets like honesty, respect, transparency are usually met with tolerant and cynical smiles. Rocket Singh brings home the importance of these timeless values.
His partners in crime are just as refreshing. Giri, the porn loving service engineer epitomises the smarty pants technical expert whose real skill lies in shafting the customers. Ah, it was so familiar. In my working environment this species is striking gold even when the sun stands eclipsed. Mishra ji, the office peon contemptuously referred to as “Cup Plate” who assists as the service engineer in assembling computers. Koena, the sexy receptionist who gets passed over for a promotion and retaliates by joining the competition. And Rathore, the arch type go getter sales dude who decides to reinvent himself as the honest salesman. Shazahn, daughter of Alyque Padamsee and Sharon Prabhakhar makes her debut as the hero’s love interest besides being his first customer. But she does little beyond looking cute and kisses the bearded beau with touching regularity.
The soundtrack consists of fifteen songs most of which are very listenable but surprisingly the movie is populated by excerpts of only three which is hind sight may not be such a bad idea after all. Hindi movies need to go beyond the song and dance routine. Focus on the back ground score and use the songs for the promos.
My take? The movie is a great one time watch and Ranbir Kapoor strikes again. Way to go Surdy Boy!

Movie Review- Wake Up Sid

2009-10-06T00:00:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Wake Up Sid

My dream finally seems to be coming true. For avid movie watchers it must have been many time times wanting to puke when the so called pillars of Bollywood spewed forth the argument that the public gets what it wants to watch. Let me happily announce that the era of mindless masala movie seems to be over. The young are taking over. Ayan Mukerji is different! He even spells his surname differently. And for a 20 something he has created a work of art he might find difficult to live up to. Way to go man and keep going.
Have we not all of us gone through the pangs of taking that one step from adolescence to manhood? The delicate age which forces us to think where life beckons? It’s always confusing for most because we usually never train for what we want to become. We bid for a few things and then we make a choice which seems the best and land up unhappily ever after. The unending conversation of what could have been takes up most of our thoughts and after drink procrastination. The lucky ones find a way and others justify their existence by making excuses.
The journey of Sid goes from ecstasy to disappointment to despair to hope and redemption. A rich man’s son with a seemingly unlimited credit card limit dances his way through bars and clubs and discotheques only to find that his friends have overtaken him in something as mundane as the graduate exams. Dad’s insistence on his working for the family business only aggravates his unsettled mind. The confidence of available money and SUVs doesn’t help him. The obvious reaction of a spoilt kid is not that of humility but angst against everything that’s dear to him. Ego, the destruction of every relationship propels him to leave house.
An unemployed undergraduate, he takes refuge in the house of a recent friend. Konkona Sen lets him in to her house and her life. The lady is a wannabe writer and overcautious in her relationships. Sid tries to continue with his irresponsible ways but soon discovers that two meals a day don’t come in from Dad’s credit card apart from realising that staying with someone also means sharing the chores. From the days of ordering unending pizzas to trying to make a half fried egg, Sid boy gets on to a learning process. A lazy easy going existence changes when his live in friend suggests that his passion for photography might earn him his daily bread.
I have always maintained that the luckiest people are those who can turn their hobbies into professions. Sid’s penchant for photography lets him discover himself. He does and in turn finds the juggled pieces of his life fall into place. Herein lies a lesson for all confused, wayward, undirected, drunk and undecided souls. Ask not what life has in store for you and do exactly what you really really want to do. You may not become rich but you would be really really happy.

The Andaman Chronicle

2009-09-13T07:14:00.005+05:30

It was holiday time again. Only this time instead of the usual tryst with the hills or the western coast we changed direction and headed towards the Andaman Islands. God bless my employer for periodically footing the bill of my sojourns and this time we went in the comfort of the Kingfisher Airlines. I don’t want to sound like their advertisement but I found their whole set up operating like a well oiled machine. The only thing I didn’t like was the accented drawl of the pilots while making their mandatory address to the travelers. Without exception all of them have the Jalandhar-Yankee accent and make it quite plain that they hate doing this but have to because you are their esteemed guests and all that crap. However my compliments to Dr Mallaya for “personally choosing” all the pretty faces in the country to smile and serve in the aircrafts.
Preparation for the holidays is always fun and this time too it was no different and hence Chammak Challo and our brood set about collecting their various garbs from different corners of the city. Of course their favoured location is always the ever dependable Rehri market which keeps throwing up special nuggets every now and then. So sundry denominations of currency in our purses found a way to convert itself into various shades of shorts, capris, slippers and shirts. Personally for me holidays are the only time when I am dressed in anything other than my Kurta-Pyjama for the better part of the day. Therefore I too had to arrange for all my combinations of T shirts and shorts. That accomplished we launched into the first leg of our trip, the flight from Chandigarh to Delhi. The airport at Chandigarh is undergoing a major facelift because of which one is forced to take a long walk to the entrance gate. I do hope that after the renovation it will look better than a local bus stop. We got our boarding passes from the smiling lady behind the Kingfisher counters and got caught in the security check. I had forgotten to take out the scissors from my toilet bag which was inside my hand baggage. The security guy looked at me as if I was just about to blow myself up. I took out the offending piece of metal, put it in the dust bin and proceeded to board. More smiles from the pretty faces welcomed us to the aircraft. It was time for the takeoff and promptly Chammak Challo took a deep breath and a firm grip of the arm rests determined to prevent the aircraft from flying. Despite her efforts the aircraft took off for the twenty minute flight to Delhi. Some more smileys came and served a really good sandwich, dahi vada and a soufflé. After landing the plane took the same amount of time to taxi in to its allotted slot as it took to fly from Chandigarh. I had come to Delhi airport after almost six years and was amazed to see the complete makeover. It’s truly a world class airport now.
After waiting for a couple of hours we took off for the three hour flight to Chennai. Everything was pretty cool except the inadequate, though tasty, serving of Chicken biryani. Even pretty smiles can’t make up for that. So it had to be followed up with an exorbitantly priced salmon sandwich at Chennai airport. I am going to send the bill to this Mallaya fellow. I was last in Chennai in the year 1984 for a month long training at a place called Kilpauk. The friendships I made then last till today. In fact the association that began twenty four years ago has now blossomed into a big group on Google where I have found more wonderful people who have been the uncomplaining victims of my cyber idiosyncrasies. All the images of that time came flashing back as we waited in the lounge. Our flight to Port Blair was at five in the morning so we all settled in our chairs to catch up on some sleep. But it was not to be. One little baby behind us started wailing incessantly. It’s amazing the kind of stamina little kids have for wailing. A long scream was followed up with a brief interval for catching up on the lost breath before launching into another blood curdling wail. This sequence continued for some time and then Chammak Challo decided to take matters in her hands. She came back after a short while and wailing had still not stopped. It turned out that the poor baby was suffering from a facial rash and the newly returned from USA parents decided against giving him an Avil because it was Indian!! I felt like boxing their heads. But we did manage our forty winks, wailing and all.
The flight took off on time and since it was Chennai what else could you expect for breakfast except Idli and sambhar and of course some more charming smiles. The quality of both was good nevertheless. For this sector we flew by Deccan which has recently been taken over by Kingfisher. They call it Kingfisher Red. Just short of our destination we ran into massive air turbulence. The plane started shaking and its handling reminded me of the driving scenes of the sixty’s movies. Remember the exaggerated right-left movements of the steering wheel of a stationary car with a movie of a road running in the background. The plane made a few thumping sounds and some faces turned white and I heard a mumbling of Hanuman Chalisa right next to me. The collective prayers were soon favoured by the Gods and we landed safely into the Andamans.
I had not made any background check on the islands so I didn’t know what to expect and to my pleasant surprise it turned out to be a lot like Kerala. Lush green vegetation and coconut trees adorn the landscape all across the islands and the sea had rich blue green color. We were picked up at the airport by our local liaison, a pleasant guy called Sham.
The arrangement for our stay had been made at the South Point Circuit House, a nice place located on a hillock close to the sea and overlooking the Ross Island. A quick shower and a change later we were ready to gallivant. Sham arranged for a full time cab for us. It was a well maintained Omni owned & driven by a sweet guy called Chandru who was employed as a driver in the local Municipal Council but also moonlighting as a cab driver during his office hours. Smart guy and of course between him and Sham they knew the entire Union Territory and so, everything as they say was ‘arranged’ for us. God bless my friends in the bureaucracy who open doors where there are none.

The first day was spent in local sightseeing. Port Blair is situated in the South Andaman islands on a cluster of small hillocks overlooking the sea. Modern transport and communications systems now make it difficult for us to fathom the immense distance it is from the mainland India. A little more thought into it only throws a little more comprehension of the tremendous sense of isolation and loneliness that the inhabitants of this place must have felt in the days gone by. This feeling got reinforced as we walked through the corridors of the Cellular jail.

A chill ran through my bones as I looked at the honour roll, the pictures of dozens of its former inmates who were single minded in their selflessness and chose the unspeakable hardships of this place rather than tolerate the masters of their enslaved country from the comfort of their homes. Picture after picture of these ordinary men from all castes and religions who became heroes and legends in their lifetime now adorn the walls of the first few rooms of the jail. A majority of them once incarcerated never left. Some were hanged and others stripped, beaten and usually succumbed to the persistent torture. A lot of us have been brought up on the romantic tales of the Raj, their sense of fair play, cricket and all that stuff but it is here that the ugliest face of the English rule rears its head. It’s also a freak coincidence that the original jail was built in five diverging columns much like the heads of the mythical monster Hydra. The compound of the jail is now more like a modern garden and is a constant witness to tourists, digital cameras in hand, laughing away and getting themselves photographed inside the cells. We too did as the Romans do but it seemed kind of inappropriate. Considering the history of the place I felt that we were not paying adequate homage to our martyrs and trivializing their memory but then that’s me. Everybody else was having loads of fun.
Apart from the Cellular jail there isn’t much to see in Port Blair apart from the tourist must dos like the various museums. An unusual exception was the Chatham Saw Mill. Situated in an adjoining island it was established in 1836 and is reputedly one of the largest saw mills in Asia. Since we had never seen a saw mill earlier it was fascinating to the see the process of huge logs being lifted and placed on the conveyor belt which took it to various work stations and finally ended up being sliced and chopped to the desired size. Within fifteen minutes a giant tree which took a hundred years or more to grow up was reduced to the ignominy of an insignificant plank. Ecological murder or price of progress, you can take your pick.
We woke up early next morning and took the ferry for the two and a half hour sea ride to the Havelock Island. A ship ride on the high seas of Bay of Bengal, it was a first for all of us. The ferries are smallish ships where are about seventy to eighty people are seated in an air conditioned hall. One can hire separate cabins too but it’s quite beyond me to comprehend why one would like to be cooped up in a cramped cabin for a short trip rather than be out on the deck. And out on the deck we were, soaking in the spray, tasting the salty seawater and looking at the endless expanse of water. So were most of the passengers. The most visible activity was of course clicking photographs. Most of the younger couples were busy interlocking arms, peering deeply into each other’s eyes while having their moment of intimacy captured for a few decades if not eternity. Occasionally the ship would roll more than expected and their romantic posture quickly changed into a balancing act with flailing arms and squeals of alarm. While the women and children were quite vocal the men folk were clearly feigning indifference lest their macho image took a hit in their spouse’s perception. I tried testing Reliance’s connectivity challenge by calling up a few friends to share what I was feeling but clearly their case is overstated. I couldn’t get through to anyone. Smug in the knowledge that I can always write more than I can talk I switched off the phone for the rest of the day.
We were picked up at the shore by one of Sham’s contacts who was also driving an Omni. It was fast turning out to be the most preferred mode of travel in these islands. Through narrow and meandering roads, coconut groves and paddy fields we zoomed our way to the Radha Nagar beach. Just short of the beach there is a cluster of thatched shops selling food and drink. Our driver took us straight to a non descript shop and asked us place our order for breakfast. The owner turned out to be a Bangladeshi immigrant named Brish Khan married to cute little thing called Kavita ! We asked the obvious question and were informed that since illegal immigrants can’t quite advertise to marry their own they simply accost the local beauties. The arrangement seemed quite cool as the Khan duo seemed pretty happy together. The doe eyed beauty told us to run along and play in the water while breakfast was being prepared. Like obedient children we obeyed. Radha Nagar is touted as one of the ten most beautiful beaches in the world, a claim I have no means of verifying since I haven’t seen the other nine. However my vast knowledge of all the international beach resorts accumulated after diligent watching of the Discovery Channel tells me otherwise. But that does not take away the fact that it is indeed a very beautiful place. The clear blue water was pounding on the white sands and inviting the admirers to jump in. The children wasted no time. I sauntered along on the sand pretending to be an avid photographer. Chammak Challo was busy gorging on the mangoes which she had bought near the beach. Soon the hunger pangs took over and we rushed back to the Khans. They served us a mixture of vegetables, scrambled eggs and light paranthas. After we had burped our appreciation we asked them to prepare fish & prawns for lunch and promptly reverted to the beach. This time I too joined the kids in frolicking in the water. It’s strange how every time the water makes the child in us come alive. The simple act of splashing water on each other had us ducking and squealing with laughter. One can never have too much of joy, so it continued unabated for the next few hours. Suddenly the sky turned overcast and within minutes it started raining. For a minute we were caught unawares but then getting hit by water from two directions simply added on to the fun. By now since the sea had started roaring a little more and the waves were getting choppier we retreated to the mainland. After washing the sand off our hair and bodies we went back to the Khan kitchen which was vibrating with activity and we noticed that their labour was now being shared by their son and our driver. Unlike the fancier restaurants we hardly had to wait. The gourmet lunch commenced with huge pieces of fried Betki followed by the best prawn curry I have ever had along with the usual dal chawal. The food was great but the affection with which we were served was immensely touching. After a perfuse thank you speech and a hefty tip we drove back to the waiting ship for our return journey.
By now the wind speed had increased and fresh rain was imminent. No sooner had we boarded the ship that my tired body slipped into a dreamless sleep. After what seemed a moment I was jolted back to wakefulness. We were about fifteen minutes into our voyage back to Port Blair and the ship was pitching and rolling like there was no tomorrow. I looked around and saw that there were only a few which included my own who were still asleep and the rest wore a grey pallor looking sick and terrified. I tried to get up and almost lost my balance. Slowly and carefully I made my way out to the rear deck. The sight was at once thrilling. We were in the periphery of a Force 4 storm and the sea was angry as hell. Waves, twenty feet high, lashed the bow of the ship and broke into spray and foam. The ship travelling at about 18 knots an hour seemed like a knife tearing through the water. One moment its stern rose with the passing wave and then it plunged into the water, the bow almost submerging in the sea before it pulled itself out and climbed onto the next wave. I held onto a small pillar on the starboard with one hand and with the other tried to capture the fury of the sea on camera. The unstable foothold and my one handed acrobats made it a little difficult and I noticed that some of the crew who were coolly relaxing there was giving me amused looks. It just made me more determined not to let these moments of a lifetime go by without my full attention and participation. And then I thought of what Chhamak Challo was missing. After a lot of persuasion I managed to extricate her from the confines of her seat. Both of us slipped and stumbled our way to the rear deck again. One look at the sea and she silently handed me a thousand curses. I casually walked over to the starboard of the ship this time and flicked my fingers at her in an invitation to join me. Her knuckles were turning white and the metal banister she was holding on to seemed about to creak and then she gave me one of her dazzling smiles which translated into simple English meant “If I could kill you, I would do so. Happily and right now!” Having been a keen student of the language I quickly comprehended and turned my attention to the less dangerous sea. Soon the winds eased off, waves abated, the ship increased its speed and we sailed to the safety of Port Blair’s harbor where Chandru was waiting to drive us back to the Circuit House.
The weather of the Islands is generally hot and humid and the recommended time for visiting is Between December and February. We had been warned that we were going when the summers are at their worst. Luckily for us it remained overcast or raining for our entire stay there. While we had to miss out on the Wandoor beach and the sound and light show at the Cellular Jail due to the rain the rest of the trip was made pleasant by the overhead clouds. So it was in pouring rain that we set foot on the motor launch which was to take us to the North and The Ross island. The launch was shaky because the sea was so. Gingerly we crossed over from the jetty to the launch to be greeted by a bunch of rugged ruffians who gave all of us a disdainful look over but nevertheless chugged on to our destination. North Island is where the coral reefs are, the beauty of which can only be truly appreciated on a sunshine day. The option of viewing from a glass bottomed boat or diving into the sea vests with the viewer. Our options were limited as it was raining incessantly. The boats gave us a near nothing of the treasures below. Sure enough the ruffian masters of the launch asked if we would dare the snorkeling. And sure enough we accepted. Chammak Challo, kids and me took the motor boat along with another family from Bombay. The guides explored a few points in the sea to ensure that we got our money’s worth. My old eyes deciphered a few places where we could have stopped but it would have been unsporting to speak. Hence we stopped where we were supposed to. The kids were promptly given life jackets and they jumped along with their chaperones into the blue and muddy water. Irresponsibility comes naturally to me and so I asked my guide if I could jump into the water to swim. He asked ‘Can u swim?’. I said yes. He said Jump. I did! Ladies & Gentlemen let me declare here and now it was one of the most rewarding experiences. The sea is where every overweight fellow can rest in peace. Swim, float, drown, nobody cares. You can still come out of the sea looking like Daniel Craig or Halle Berry depending upon your sensibility or at least that’s how you can feel. The guides let me wallow in the water for about fifteen minutes after which I requested for the orthodox snorkeling. The breathing mask put in place I dived to gaze at the beautiful marine life. The most beautiful shapes that nature can put to display were on offer a few feet from my gaze. Star fishes slipped past me and the coral display was almost like the surreal paintings of Salvador Dali. It was intoxication without artificial stimulants. My guide was constantly pulling on my life jacket to take me to new wonders. It was beautiful and beautiful and beautiful. After forty minutes of gazing into the miracles of nature we were bundled back to the motor boat only to discover that Chammak Challo and the Lady of the other family had now been lured into the water they so feared. The boat fled away to the shore leaving the two ladies in the water. Chammak Challo’s chaperone was a gentle soul who had lost his entire family in the Tsunami. His steady persuasion quelled her terror of drowning. She blessed him for his kindness and prayed that he find his peace. People like him are living examples of bravery and an inspiration for the rest of us. Once back on the shore I started raining and all of us crouched under the makeshift shelters. Soon enough I was accosted by a stray dog who for some reason insisted on giving me his version of a loving hug and shaking my hand. In gratitude I fed him an entire packet of biscuits.
The next stop on our way back was Ross Island which is just about two hundred yards from Port Blair’s shore. The island served as the headquarters of the British rulers. We met the local guide, a feisty and an unusual lady called Anuradha Rao. Dressed in a shirt and loose trousers her language was a rapid fire mix of English and Adamaanized Hindi. We followed Madam Machinegun Rao who guided us through the ruins of the once stately buildings. A major part of the island has been taken over by the Navy which is off limits for the general public. Miss Rao amazed us with her close relationships with the animals on the island. She had specific names for deers who actually responded to her calls. As if that was not enough so did the birds! And what had the children squealing with joy was when she scooped a little squirrel from her shirt pocket. The little bundle was injured and recuperating with the lady’s warmth. Chammak Challo always overpays such people but this one time I thought it was well deserved.
My achievement of small ambitions and the destruction of Chammak Challo’s phobias deserved a celebration which took us to a quaint restaurant on the beach of Port Blair. Like all good seaside joints the live & the caught sea food is put on display and you can make your choice. This time I chose to get a red snapper grilled along with some boti kebabs and pulao and of course the tiger prawns.
It was our last day and due to inclement weather it was not possible to go anywhere. However our driver was kind enough to take us around the city and show us some entirely avoidable places. You know, parks and markets and stuff. Soon it was time for our flight back. Chandru, our driver, became all emotional and insisted on getting photographed with all of us. After some hugging and bidding good byes and promising to remain in touch we went back to the pretty smiles of Kingfisher which took us back home.

Quick Gun Murugun

2009-08-30T22:59:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Quick Gun Murugun

This has to be a first. From a character in the two minutes promos of MTV during the nascent days of satellite television in India to a larger than life hero in a ninety minute feature film Quick Gun Murugun shoots his way across the silver screen with aplomb and inimitable style. It’s a Mexican beans meets paysam Western. Instead of a whiskey swilling and a drawling Clint Eastwood please meet the dosa munching vegetarian cowboy Quick Gun Murugan. He sets out to put a stop to the evil designs of the non vegetarian expansionist dreams of the villain, Rice Plate Reddy (Oh, how I love this name).
The movie is set in the classic genre of the Westerns made immortal by the greats like Sergio Leone, John Sturges and Sam Peckinpah. Like all great Westerns this one too has a wide canvas, a predictable story narrated with consummate slickness and a supernatural touch but which has Indian written all over it. Way to go Mr Shashank Ghosh. His directorial skill is only matched with the outrageous, cheeky and gross scenarios manufactured with a whacky sense of humour. Music fans like me who have been following Channel [V] and MTV through the years will comprehend what I am talking about. The classy one liners used in the promos of both these channels are the inspiration for the zany dialogues of this film. I was specially amazed by the fact that considering Ghosh was using pot bellied Southern actors in a classic south Indian backdrop to narrate a revenge story has managed to pull off the presentation in orthodox Western mode albeit with a little too much violence for a comic Western. As a matter of fact movies of this genre should now be called a Southern.
The story takes off in a remote southern village in 1982 with the killing of the hero by Rice Plate Reddy played by Nasser. It’s a powerful portrayal of a ruthless killer who blows away every opposition to his business plans. It was touching to see the hero as a brave but vulnerable guy who gets outnumbered and killed. But wait a minute, this is not a cut and dried Sergio Leone saga where the dead stay dead. On reaching heaven (Ministry of Death, oh man) Quick Gun makes an application to the CEO, one Mr. C Gupta (yeah you guessed it) for repatriation to earth on the grounds of his unfinished business of protecting cows and promoting vegetarianism. Lord Chitragupta makes a statement on the changing gastronomic preferences in the modern world by observing that “Vegetarianism is the need of the hour” and bingo, Murugun is beamed back to earth, a la The Terminator, sans clothes but with a full chaddi. But hey, this is Mumbai 25 years later. And with a good reason too. Rice Plate Reddy has climbed up the corporate criminal ladder and instead of an angvastram he now sports designer super white suits along with an arm candy appropriately called Mango Dolly played by the luscious Rambha. In keeping with the metro standards he plans to launch the biggest non vegetarian dosa outlet chain called, what else but McDosa. He has one small problem though. His chief chef can’t find the right combination of ingredients which adds that extra zing to the proposed dosa. In comes Rowdy MBA (Who thought of all these names? I want to shake his hand.), the consultant played by Raju Sundaram whom you would remember in that fantastic dance number “Rukmani” from Roja. Of course no institute promotes the management techniques employed by him to get the perfect dosa.
The action sequences are as mindless as they are enjoyable. In fact anywhere else they would look ridiculous but since one expects them from Quick Gun they are hilarious. Fantastic music more appropriate to the classical Mexican stand offs and slick camera work makes the action gripping. Never mind the impossibility of what you see. It needs to be done. It’s Quick Gun Murugun. Mind it? I certainly didn’t!

Movie Review - Kaminey

2009-08-22T08:02:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Kaminey

Thanks to the boycott of the cinema industry by the multiplexes I was badly deprived of my regular fix of movies. However since their reconciliation I barely got time to see any. The long hiatus was broken by Vishal Bhardwaj’s latest offering. Both his earlier movies were based on Shakespeare’s plays. While Maqbool was good, Onkara was a brilliant take on Othello. How does one live up to that kind legacy? Well he changed the rules of the game and smacks it in your face.
So you have a hero, rather two of them with speech disorders. One lisps and the other stutters. Shahid Kapoor with his cute smile and chiseled body has delivered on both counts. The story is about these two twins who are leading completely different lives. The stuttering bro, Guddu, is a simple guy working for an NGO spreading the message of safe sex and trying to make an honest living. Priyanka is his love interest who declares she is pregnant in her very first scene. They decide to get married immediately but there is one little problem. The lady’s brother is a psyco gangster and a wannabe politician and he doesn’t quite like the idea of some dude knocking up his sister.
The other twin, Charlie, is a small time hoodlum who fixes horse races and dreams of becoming a legitimate bookie one day. One day he puts all his cookies in one jar and loses his life’s earning when the manipulated jockey double crosses him. In his quest for revenge he gets involved in a fight with the rival gangsters and while escaping he unknowingly steals the vehicle of Anti Narcotic cops who are also moonlighting as drug dealers. There is a stash hidden in the jeep which becomes a mean of redeeming his recent losses.
The lives of the twins who have not been involved in each other’s lives for years, presumably because of ideological differences undergo an unexpected change when Charlie is picked up by the psyco gangster and Guddu is arrested by the Narco cops. The Bollywood switch, yes, but the events then unfold leading to an awesome surreal climax. The entire narrative of the movie is so taut that if you blink you might miss the sequence of events. This is no Shakespearean drama but VB has managed to make a masala action flick look like a classic. But for the fact that at times it was difficult to understand the Bengali and Marathi dialogues I could barely detect a weakness in the movie. However I would dedicate my Oscar to the editor for making a relentless entertainer.
Priyanka Chopra looks like a million bucks without her makeup and within her Sarojani Nagar rehri market oh so ordinary attire. Why can’t all women look like the Miss Simplicity herself? Dream on Bawa boy, it’s not taxable. Shahid’s carved body adds menace to the high voltage action. The finale of the movie and the composition of the action sequences is easily one of the best that Bollywood has offered so far. Dhan te naan and go watch.

Movie Review - Gulaal

2009-03-17T07:44:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Gulaal

And I thought that Anurag Kashyap had really excelled himself in Dev D, especially since messing with a proven classic can be a tricky proposition. He succeeded and eminently so! Barely had I recovered from that awesome movie that AK has unleashed another explosion of emotions with a relentless assault on our sensibilities. Set amidst the feudal ethos of Rajasthan the story is about the pursuit of ambition, accumulation of power, innocent & betrayed love. In true Shakespearean milieu there are plots and sub plots and yet some more hidden beneath them but each interconnected to finally merge in the inevitable climax so much like a Greek tragedy.
Barring Kay Kay Menon nearly everybody is a fresh face. The main lead Raja Singh Chaudhary is also the author of the story revolving around student politics which was rewritten by Anurag Kashyap and Aparna Chaturvedi after incorporating rebellious regional aspirations sequential to the perceived injustices by the state. So very contemporary and yet so well portrayed! Kay Kay is the parochial manipulator who uses the students’ politics to build a cadre for pursuing his secessionist agenda. Abhinayu Pratap Singh is the reclusive & reckless prince trying to hide from the riches of his father. Aditya Srivastava & Ayesha Mohan are the prince’s half blood Machiavellian siblings whose yearning for legitimacy drives them to deception and murder. Deepak Dobriyal is Kay Kay’s main hit man and Man Friday. Mahie Gill as Kay Kay’s mistress impresses once again with her vivaciousness & natural acting ability. Jesse Randhawa’s walk from the ramp to the screen shows a lot of promise.
I have to dedicate a separate paragraph to Piyush Mishra. The man has till now played bit roles in sundry movies and penned the script for Black Friday but in this pic he writes, he composes the music, sings and acts too. This will easily be one of the performances of the year if not the decade. First the music! Don’t gloss over the songs. Hear them; hear the lyrics and you will be bowled over. While “Arambh hai prachand” sounds the battle cry, his rendition of “Duniya” which is a take on Pyaasa’s classic “Yeh Duniya Agar Mil Bhi Jaye To Kya hai” manages to retain its integrity and freshness. The mujra song “Rana ji” has to be one of the most original I have heard in a long time. Using traditional language and style, the lyrics go global without a warning. So with the sexy thumka of Mahie Gill you are suddenly presented with an in your face commentary on 9/11 (Jaise door desh ke tower main ghus jaye re aeroplane), Iraq, Afghanistan, democracy and the cola wars. Whacky imagination at its best! Another beautiful composition is “Sheher” sung along with the talented Swanand Kirkire (Remember Khoya Khoya Chand). Mishra plays the role of the schizophrenic musician elder brother of Kay Kay. He idolizes John Lennon, composes on the spot poetry and has an opinion on everything. The pathos on his face after he loses his dancing consort is heart breaking.
I feel Anurag Kashyap is not an ordinary movie maker. His movies are like a painting canvas where he tries to marry various art forms. If the music resounds of folk songs and fine poetry the shots of the practicing Ram Leela characters impart a theatre like color. If one song reminds you of the wandering minstrels the other carries the guitar strums of western country music. He is also a diehard romantic. Look for John Lennon’s sketch peeking out from the mad poet’s medallion and posters of Che Guvera and Jimmy Hendrix set in a neon lit bar masquerading as a residence in the middle of the desert. For me this is better than any art/parallel cinema.

Movie Review - Delhi 6

2009-02-23T15:20:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Delhi 6

This is where the young Turks take it away from the pretenders. Bole to.. Subash Ghai, Yash Chopra and the likes of them. Let the young ones soar now. And, Ladies & Gentlemen, I am so glad to report that my fantasies are finally coming true. The new order IS taking over. Original ideas are being shaped with skill and imagination. After more than half a lifetime of being fed escapist rubbish by the so called dream merchants and showmen I am finally enjoying good cinema unleashed by a string of young movie makers. Delhi 6 is a worthy successor to Rang De Basanti and Rakeysh Om Parkash Mehra emphatically proves that he is not a one trick pony.
Abhishek Bachchan is the American born desi who volunteers to accompany his grandmother, Waheeda Rehman (I love her so) back to her roots all the way from New York to the by lanes of Chandni Chowk which is Delhi 6 for the uninformed and those lost in the cyber world who have forgotten the postal addresses used in the romantic days of letter writing. This in itself was enough to make me go all nostalgic about the days when I would wait and wait for my Chammak Challo’s letters. On his first trip to India the grandson discovers the world of myriad hues that constitutes the Indian society. There are so many characters in the movie and each one of them so distinctive. Yet the amalgamation of their role in the story is so effortless which is a tribute not only to their acting skills but also to the screenplay and of course the directorial genius. Abhishek’s intended journey as a chaperone quickly changes into a discovery of that mystic fabric which binds people of different religions and social standards, a realization of the weaknesses and prejudices which breaks the façade of harmony only to rewind into normalcy again. It’s this mad medley of love, hate, rigidity and tolerance which makes Indians what they are and Mehra has eminently succeeded in condensing that macro picture into one neighborhood of Chandni Chowk. There are way too many good characterizations to find individual appreciation here but I have to single out Deepak Dobriyal for his brilliant portrayal of the Muslim Jalebiwallah who becomes the target of the ire of religious bigots and of course Vijay Raaz as the classical Delhi cop. His Haryanvi accented dialogue delivery is a delight to watch. Cyrus Sahukar as the photographer who is cuckolding Prem Chopra, the rich money lender, plays a charming cameo. Abhishek, as the bewildered westerner, has suitably underplayed his character. Sonam Kapoor is naturally vivacious and can only get better. Rishi Kapoor is looking more and more like his great father. Atul Kulkarni has put on some weight but still comes good as the slow witted butt of all jokes.
There are numerous scenes which have been beautifully composed but the surprising one was the Ram Leela. It took me back forty years when as a young lad I had seen the old Delhi Ram Leela for the first and only time. The images are still fresh in my mind and lo behold I was reliving the experience all over again. Raghbir Yadav has lent his voice to the musical rendition of the timeless epic. All the classical touches of theatre artistry are there to see especially the scene of the flying Vanars and of Ravan encountering the Lakshman Rekha. Mehra also cocks a snook at self serving politicians with their mandir-masjid politics and the plethora of news channels which find merit in repeating ad nauseam the most ridiculous of news. The photography reveals the love for the old city. Panoramic shots of the Jama Masjid, Red Fort and the skyline of old Delhi is simply breathtaking.
A R Rehman’s compositions are great. The beautifully sung “Masakali” by Mohit Chauhan brings alive the spontaneity of Sonam’s character. Kailash Kher & Javed Ali have put their heart into the soul stirring “Arzian”. A spiritual song is in every movie is almost becoming a norm with Rehman which is not a bad thing at all. But my favourite is the title song by Blaaze,Benny Dayal,Vivinenne, Tanvi & Claire. After all “Yeh Dilli hai mere yaar”. Go, watch & feel alive.

Movie Review - Dev D

2009-02-09T07:33:00.001+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Dev D

Everything about this movie whether its the conceptualization by Abhay Deol, the music by Amit Trivedi and the loving strokes of superb direction by Anurag Kashyap is off beat. After a no go “No Smoking” he has struck back and how. Man, its mind blowing. Sarat Chandra’s classic has been given a contemporary look and interpretation which I thought was pretty near to my idea of the kind of guy Dev Das was namely a weak, self centered, addictive loser. And Abhay Deol has done enormous justice to the lead role. While the principal characters of the original classic remain the same, their backgrounds and events affecting their lives have been cleverly changed. The Bengali feudal has been replaced by a Punjabi industrialist. The rural backdrop remains the same. Paro assumes the avatar of the classic Punjabi belle freely mouthing abuses and completely obsessed with her childhood sweetheart. For a first timer Mahie Gill, a Chandigarh lass, has done a classy portrayal of Paro. Her total submission to her lover receives a rude jolt when the object of her affection spurns her on suspicions of promiscuous conduct. Of course it’s another matter that he has no problems sowing his wild oats at the first available opportunity. She tries to prevent the shattering of a lifelong dream but consents to marry a widower following the obdurate attitude of Dev. He on the other hand becomes a prisoner of his suspicions and his desire for Paro whose marriage triggers his descent into the abyss of alcoholic stupor and drug induced hallucinations.
Anurag Kashyap then uses the DPS MMS episode to introduce the character of Leni who is disgraced by public opprobrium, abandoned by her family and finally becomes a high priced escort Chanda, played by Kalki Koechlin who is really the surprise package of the movie. A beautiful girl of French stock with a pronounced pout a la Brigitte Bardot she took my heart away, crooked teeth and all. A drunken Dev who after abandoning the mustard fields of Punjab is exploring the depths of despair in the dark underbelly of Delhi literally falls into her arms. Initially Dev’s single minded indulgence in drinking marathons in between fantasizing of a reunion with Paro comes in his way of crystallizing any kind of relationship with Chanda. But after Paro tells him off he comes to realize that there is more to Chanda than just fancy costumes designed to titillate her customers. But then he mows down seven people under his car driving under the influence of Vodka and his demons. It also jolts him back to reality.
While the performances of all the actors are amazing a special mention needs to be made of the music. This is Amit Trivedi’s second film after Aamir but this new kid on the block has composed some exemplary music and has a great deal of promise. Each song has a different kind of sound. It’s a delightful pot pourri of Sufi music, Punjabi folk and western drum rolls. While the soulful rendition of “Pardesi” by Toshi takes your breath away the retro classic dance by the trio of Sinbad Phgura, Ammo 'Too Sweet' and Jimi 'The Quiff’ could be one’s sole reason to watch the movie again. “Emosanal Atyachaar” with the music by Chandigarh’s very own Harish Band is another riot. It’s the watered down censored version which has been used in the movie. The original which is available on the Net is guaranteed to make your ears go red and I must warn that only those who can stomach the classic Hindi profanities may venture forth in listening to it.
The movie is a modern interpretation of a timeless classic story and it has been crafted with good performances, slick editing and set to great music. The language may not appeal to everyone’s sensibilities but apart from that it’s nearly flawless. It’s outstanding stuff and eminently watchable but of course without your kids or parents along. The ‘A’ rating is more than justified.

Movie Review-Slumdog Millionaire

2009-01-24T07:18:00.001+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Slumdog Millionaire

One has to be a die hard cynic or with a severe case of reverse snobbery not to fall in love with a work of genius such as this. I have two words for you. Simply awesome. What I loved about the movie was that the idea of the story was penned by an Indian, Vikas Swarup, co directed by an Indian, Loveleen Tandon and infused with heart moving music by an Indian, A R Rehman. Ah, but he belongs to the world now. Great script, fantastic editing, slick direction. Danny Boy(le), Golden Globes was just the first halt and you shall be taking bows at the BAFTAs and Oscars as well. It’s amazing how a foreigner has connected so emphatically with the local ethos and the dark underbelly of Mumbai. Even the local idiom has been paid homage to. I feel that to truly appreciate the movie it should be seen in both the Hindi and English versions.
A simple story has been woven into an audio visual delight. Jamal, a street kid(slumdog if you will) appears on a game show a la “Kaun Banega Carorepati” and from a shaky starts finds himself on the verge of winning the grand prize. He is about to be asked the final question when the show time ends and is rolled over to the next episode of the show. How is it that an ordinary guy from the slums of Amchi Mumbai knows all the right answers, well almost? The celebrity host played by Anil Kapoor gets suspicious and gets Jamal arrested for investigation of possible fraud. He is interrogated by the Inspector/Constable team of Irrfan Khan and Saurabh Shukla who use all the lovely techniques of torture and casual brutality known to the Indian police. Jamal’s answers to the prods of police form the narrative of the movie. Answer by answer he takes us through the tumultuous journey of his life right from his childhood to his present youth. In life and not in the text books is where the education of most of the under privileged like Jamal lies.
The characterization of the little Jamal & his brother by Ayush Mahesh Khedekar & Azharuddin Mohammad Ismail are an inspired choice. The two little hoodlums steal your heart with their bunny dunny acts. Their flight, with the police hot on their heels & chasing them through the maze of the slums ought to be a classic of sorts. The raw energy of the running children and rapidly changing camera shots mixed with the reverberating beats of “O Saya” set your adrenalin racing. The whining guardians of the Indian culture might cringe at candid shots of shit holes but reality wins here. The same would have been deified as art cinema had the Director’s surname been a Benegal or a Ray or a Kaul. Bully for you Danny Boyle. The innocence of the boys is almost crushed by political scum but they rise again to happiness and a degree of affluence using the time honored Old Man Fagin’s tricks in stealing and picking pockets. The love interest of Jamal is played by Frieda Pinto, easily one of the prettiest faces to hit the screen in the recent past.
The director’s earlier experience of making “Trainspotting” comes in hugely handy in directing the train sequences. Throughout the movie the visuals are simply stunning. From the streets and slums of Mumbai to the ghats of Kanpur , from the Taj on the banks of Jamuna to hills of west India Boyle doesn’t miss a trick in celebrating the mad romance and beauty of India. And all this is set to the beautiful and haunting melodies of Rehman. U.K’s hip hop artist M.I.A’s collaboration in the two numbers, “Paper Planes” and “O saya” are exemplary. The ultimate celebration of joy “Jai Ho” sung by the irrepressible Sukhwinder Singh was surprisingly accompanied by a deft jig by the cast & the crew (I presume). Superb stuff. Am I panting? But then movies like this come along once in a while. Phone a friend, go and enjoy the experience. It’s exquisite. Jai Ho!!

Movie Review- Ghajini

2008-12-28T07:18:00.001+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Ghajini

By now everyone knows the storyline of the movie. The girlfriend is killed. The enraged lover has a problem recalling his memory after fifteen minutes but is nevertheless in pursuit of killer of his love. Contrary to the conventional mode of building up of a Bollywood story this one declares its intent in the beginning and takes on the audience from there. It’s a tall order indeed and Murugadoss the director of both the versions of the movie has acquitted himself rather well but only just. Am I declaring my intent as well?
The weakest link of the movie is the villain. I would imagine that Pradeep Rawat has been faithful to his brief of playing the ruthless don but his characterization of a Haryanvi hoodlum falls a little flat. The consistency of his accent is missing which really caricatures him. One moment he is speaking normally and then in an instant the Haryanvi in him jumps out only to revert back to original drone. It’s extremely rare that a movie is named after the villain and his role could have been worked upon a little more. The characterization of this pivotal player is too loose to merit the title of the movie.
Jiah Khan was a disappointment, period. Bad acting, bad figure, bad clothes! Whoever is promoting her as a sex symbol needs to get his eyes and head examined. And surely the make up staff could have done a better job of making her complexion dusky. That just might have saved her from looking like an tired and a sweaty babe. I am being harsh on the poor girl but the director must share the blame. I also think that her character wasn’t really necessary for the story to develop.
The Malayalee beauty Asin Thottumkal seems to have continued her good work from the original 2005 version. As opposed to Miss Khan, Asin can act, her clothes could do with a little improvement but she looks like a million bucks. Saying anything else about her would be a-sin. She plays a bubbly budding model for small time ads who is also a Good Samaritan at heart. Her activism puts her in the cross hair of the don who becomes her brutal nemesis.
Enough has been written about the famous eight pack of Aamir Khan so I won’t waste any more space on it. Suffice to say that this time the method actor has surpassed even his high standards of preparation for a role. Anyone with lesser physical proportions would have looked ridiculous not to mention unbelievable playing the extremely violent role. The movie rests on the well muscled shoulders of Aamir Khan. He suffers from Anterograde amnesia, which the producers were kind enough to explain is a short term memory lapse especially after a physical trauma which he is subjected to while being a helpless witness to the death throes of his beloved. To keep in tune with the reality while lost in his amnesic and meandering mind he photographs and labels everything. There is only one constant. The name of his tormentor Ghajini and his relentless quest for revenge! The memory of his loss is so savage on his conscious self that his consequent frightening screams are reminiscent of a helpless and a caged animal overwhelmed with deathly remorse. Kill, says his mind and he blows away everything that comes in his way with ruthless and clinical efficiency. Aamir’s searing intensity is actually unsettling and invokes fear. The man is a true thespian and this round of the clash between the Bollywood Khans clearly belongs to him.
The story is based on a Hollywood movie “Momento” but this time I will close my eyes. It isn’t completely believable but the sequence of events provides a good platform for the players to display their wares. Some did and some did not which is alright but the length of the movie could have been shortened to maintain the pace which trips at times. The background score is appropriate and touches a nerve but the songs were totally unnecessary. It’s not often that A R Rehman’s music is overshadowed by other aspects of the movie but having said that Mr Rehman has certainly done far better stuff
The violence in this movie touches a new level. Not after the famous massacre scene of Sholay have I seen such a brutally executed onscreen killing as Asin’s. The expressions of both the victims stab you in the heart. All the other fight scenes are extremely well crafted and computer effects have been used with spectacular results. Aamir’s exertions are like a Force 10 storm. Simply unstoppable. Despite its faults this one is a must watch because like all good movies it stays with you a while.

Movie Review- Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi

2008-12-21T23:43:00.002+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi

My Chhamak Challo wants to switch onto the Surya channel and watch a Tamil/Telugu/Malayalam/Kannada movie which she will not understand and listen to Carnatic music which she will not appreciate. My Gharwali is ready to revert back to her Garhwali while treating her patients. All this anger is a reaction to the overdose of Punju themes which are being repeated ad-nauseam by the Punjus and other criminals in Bollywood. On the other hand I feel that maybe this is the Bollywood Punjus’ way of giving a resounding slap to the scum that defines the ilk of Raj Thakeray. In any case I am the prosecution and not the defence.
I do feel like twirling my colored moustache and asking Aditya/Yash Raj/SRK combine “Kya soch ke aye the? Public bahut khus hoga, kyun”. Bloody clowns, what the hell were they thinking while plotting (annihilating more appropriately) the story. This one too is set in Punjab, Amritsar actually. Anyone who knows Amritsar better than I do will please tell the location of mountains near the city and also the high vantage point which affords a bird’s eye view of the city. The Chopras have discovered what I never found in forty and something years. Well, the start was promising enough. A glimpse of the Golden temple, which never ever fails to set my pulse racing and the camera pans to the cobbled streets of the old city of Amritsar. Road side eateries, the mad undisciplined traffic, the tall towers of the sundry Gurudwaras, the jolly sardars and the pot bellied Punjab Police constables who are invariably found scratching their nether regions, yessir that’s my Amritsar. In walks the middle class hero with his newly wedded heroine. Quickly enough we learn that the girl loved another/the lover dies on the day of the marriage/our hero is conveniently present/the girl’s father loves the hero as his son (favourite student? Some Guru dakhshina the fella owes)/hero marries heroine as per the pop’s last wishes conveniently disguised as a request (Main tumhari marzi ke khilaf kuchh nahi karma chhahata but if you don’t do it I will never die peacefully, blah blah blah…Jesus man). This was the nice part. Our man gets the bride home and promptly shifts his bed on the first floor and the torture of the audience starts now. For the next two and something hours SRK and Co lose their nuts. The hero is ordinary, supposedly boring, faithful to his work and staid and uncommunicative and so not very appealing to the vivacious heroine. She finds a way out. Dance classes! Eureka! Our hero also finds a way to vibe with the other side of his wife so that she can fall in love (with whom? Read on). Become her dance partner! Great! How do you keep yourself from being recognized? Simple baby, just shave off your mustache, gel your hair, wear cowboy shoes and an attitude. This is for the trouser wearing guys. So how is it going to work for a Kurta Pajama dehati like me? The initial ploy works when it is still fun and games for the wannabe lover boy and the heroine. As expected the heroine starts having feelings for her dance partner which is cool. But what about our man? Who the hell is he? Is he the pining husband or the manipulative dancer/lover boy? The machinations and the expectations of the alter egos become surrealistic after a point. Neither character justifies his existence. The dancer tries to make the girl fall in love with him but the husband in him doesn’t want that to happen. I hope you are getting adequately confused because that’s the way it’s supposed to be. The reality remains confined to Anushka, the debutante. Her character is human, her smile is real, her pain is hurting. The best part of SRK is the friend he has in Vinay Pathak, the Hair Dresser Bobby Khosla. Fantastic performance. This is one Bihari I would love to vote for.
The good thing about the movie is some of the thought in the dialogue. Love somebody to the extent of madness is something I agree with. With farcical pretence I do not. Leaving everything to God may be a fatalistic compulsion but can not be the conviction of a man. If you love her then go and get her.
I am angry because my Chammak Challo loves Shahrukh and she is acutely disappointed and since I love my Chammak Challo I am also acutely/obtusely and right angley in agreement with her. Punjabis in movies are fine by me. But why caricature them? The abundance of “Jees” in the dialogue is not the way we speak. The Bollywood hasn’t the faintest idea of what or how the Jatts are. Ropar is not a village. Every female in Punjab does not wear Phulkari all the time. Short kurtis with salwars went out of fashion a long time ago. So where is the research Mr Chopra? It seems to have been done in the air conditioned confines of the Mumbai offices. Next time you make a movie learn about the place and the people before you come to shoot there. Or else my nephew who is soon going to participate in the Air Pistol shooting event in the Nationals next month is likely to be handed another gun.

Movie Review- Quantum Of Solace

2008-11-13T09:25:00.002+05:30

I, may or may not like it but life/kids/nieces are bent upon making me believe that I am ageing. So how? Sean Connery is in danger of becoming a memory? Roger Moore’s wrought features are no advertisement for the Bond brand. Pierce Brosnan’s awful flirtation with the Man’s role has mercifully come to an end. So where do I have a problem? None really!! I sayeth cause it cometh ! This movie starts like no other. There is no traditional gun barrel sequence of the Berretta shooting at you with Bond bending sideways. No strains of the old familiar music. Bond has changed. In more ways than one, actually. There are quite a few firsts for Bond here. For starters this movie is not a stand alone story. Our man has got his emotions on a high and so goes on a revenge trail. Revenge for Casinoroyale’s Vesper’s death. Who the hell was she? Oh, Bond’s love interest who committed suicide? What the devil is happening here? An uncertain ending in Casinoroyale and a pursuit in the sequel? Yup and so for the first time Bond is not chasing a villain who is out to destroy the world or neutralizing a Russian Mafiosi but following his emotions. How sweet but I can tolerate Daniel Craig in a love sick mode only once. A quarter of a century ago in “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service”, George Lazenby who was the worst Bond ever, fell in love and even got married (horrors) but mercifully the wife gets bumped off in the end. The Bonds of this world are supposed to simply love ‘em and leave ‘em. Surely they can’t be married and still be in business. The next worst thing is a brooding Bond who behind the garb of chasing villains is actually seeking to destroy the guy indirectly responsible for his girl friend’s suicide. He has forgotten to laugh. There are no gadgets so no Mr. Q. The same guy plays Felix Leiter twice in succession. Bond does not sleep with the heroine! The famous martini, shaken not stirred is missing. And not once does he mouth, “My name is Bond, James Bond”. Yessir Bond has changed.
Commensurate with the new age Bond the villain is no longer threatening the world order but seeking to control the water supply of Bolivia (whatever the hell for?). Mathieu Amalric plays the pseudo environmentalist who is a leading member of the evil organization Quantum responsible for Vesper’s suicide. He is the corporate face of the modern day villainy and does a splendid job of looking creepy. The long legged lass Olga Kurylenko plays the first Bond girl not to share his bed but what the hell, brooding lovers lose their desire anyway. She too is on a revenge trail. This story seems to be an adaptation of a million Westerns of the revenge theme. Only the horses were missing. Judy Dench as M is getting classier by the day. All women ought to age like her. Of all the Bond women the one I miss the most is Miss Moneypenny. I wonder why she has disappeared. Bond’s flirtation with her has always been one of the most endearing scenes of this spy saga.
However all is not lost. The gadgetry may have made an exit which is not such a bad thing after all but the intensely raw and physical action in its place is simply awesome. Craig with his superbly fit physique carries it off with eminence. Free style running which made its debut in the last movie does an encore here. It’s beautiful to watch. The Aston Martin makes a singular appearance in the breathtaking car chase at the beginning of the movie. Another highlight of the gripping action is the dog fight between an ancient Dakota and a fighter plane. The last I saw of Dakotas was in the Indiana Jones movies which are period pieces but its featuring in a contemporary story was a pleasant surprise. Miss Moneypenny may be missing but there is another beauty by the name of Strawberry Fields! The casting director must be a Beatles fan and I would like to think a Bond buff because the manner of her killing is reminiscent of Goldfinger’s penchant for killing by applying gold paint on the victim’s body. Only this time oil replaces gold. Sign of changing times? But then Bond has changed, right? However I am never going to forgive the makers for removing the signature tune of Bond movies. The title song ‘Another way to die’ by Jack White and Alicia Keys is a piece of forgettable trash which will never find a place in my cherished collection of the Bond songs.
I am a die hard Ian Fleming/Bond fan so I have my observations and reservations but like all Bond movies this one too is hugely enjoyable. Only guys like me start thinking. Why is Bond changing? Well, isn’t everything around us changing too? But the sanctity of some things ought to be maintained. The aura of Commander James Bond is one such thing and it should not be messed around with.

Movie Review- Fashion

2008-11-09T06:58:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Fashion

This is Madhur Bhandarkar’s reality check on the razzmatazz and cheesecake world of fashion. The story is ordinary enough. Starry eyed winner of a beauty contest from small town Chandigarh (welllllllll??) goes to big bad Bombay to pursue her dreams of becoming a super model. Struggle, the big break, the high leap, the pitfalls of delusional fame, descent into the abyss of excess, the realization of truth, rising of the phoenix and everybody lives happily ever after. Well almost.
The characters are a bit of a cliché. Bhandarkar has liberally based his players on real life guys. So you have a blonde haired Rohit Bal rip off. Surely a more handsome guy could have been chosen to ape Rohit. Kangna Ranaut’s character has been based on the unfortunate Geetanjali Nagpal no matter how much Bhandarkar denies. Every designer is a gay and all models seem to be on a trip to high life. Nevertheless the pot pourri created is interesting. Priyanka was a bit of a disappointment in the way she looks. Her looks came across as harsh. On the other hand the second lead Kangana Ranaut actually steals the thunder right under the nose of the main lead. She looks devastating, especially in the ramp walk scenes, and has acted with a lot of zest as the drug crazed super model convinced of her infallibility. Mugdha Ghose is the surprise package. Tall, statuesque and carefree, she could be one of the actors to watch out for. Chitrashi Rawat (Komal Chauthala of Chak de India) has a small and a cutely pesky role of a deal fixer. She is quite a natural. The movie is about women models so there is no hero so to speak but the male characters are pretty strongly played too. Arbaaz Khan as the owner of a company which is peddling some top brand is good. And Harsh Chhaya’s portrayal of a gay designer is absolutely devastating.
Did I say it’s a reality check? Well, yes and a no. The ramp walks and the tribulations of the struggling models seemed real enough. But is every model exploited and must sleep with the boss? I am not so sure. Besides smart businessmen do not lay off people on whims. And how come the fashion world seems to be revolving around just one company? Loose ends but not serious enough to harm the overall content which is good. I felt real life characters could have been used too but the only guy who gets to do it is the superb designer and my friend Wendell Rodricks. Good show man, rock on.
The opening shots of the movie show prominent places of Chandigarh which thrilled me but the reference to it as a small town (true as it may be) got my goat. In the age of Internet no place is now really big or small. But if it gives somebody a kick then so be it. The movie is nothing to be taken very seriously and is a good time pass. Chalega !

Movie Review- Welcome To Sajjanpur

2008-09-25T20:52:00.001+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Welcome To Sajjanpur

I have never been a fan of the so called art/parallel/serious/meaningful cinema and by corollary its promoters. Hence I gave a miss to most of the movies favoured by the jholawallahs & the bidi smoking intellectuals. A few that I did see only reinforced my belief that these film makers were the Johnny come lately residuals from the smoky decadent sixties and wannabe rebels full of pretences bent upon glorifying the poverty and slums of India. Wily nilly I had always included Benegal in the same category because I could appreciate only two of his movies namely Ankur & Junoon. The rest of his repertoire didn’t really appeal to me. Too slow and too boring. But with ‘Welcome to Sajjanpur’ he has forced me to revise my opinion.
The first brownie point is won for the original and unusual story related mostly in spoken Bhojpuri. Set in the rural Hindi heartland it revolves around a young village lad who puts his education to practical use in the art of letter writing. It provides him his daily bread and also enables him to keep his hand on the pulse of the lives, politics and love affairs of the village. Like any engaging story this is also a combination of various sub plots in which each character has been carved with affection. There is this political family which wishes to rule by the gun. Yashpal Sharma is in his element as the resident don. I specially loved the expletives that he used. Baggarlandu, Jhapperkanju, Landeroo are just some of the many endearments he uses to decorate his language. Then we have Munni the eunuch who decides to challenge the hegemony of the don but through democratic means.The village compounder, played by the Big B of Bhojpuri films Ravi Kishan, is besotted by the child widow daughter in law of the local fauji. The widow is not portrayed as long suffering and in fact responds to the amorous advances of her suitor. Add to this the undercurrents of attraction between our letter writer hero and his married childhood classmate and we have the makings of a minor revolution in the rural India. Ila Arun is the hyper superstitious mother of an unmarried daughter bent upon marrying her to a dog to ward off the evil eye. If I was heading the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences, this year’s Oscar for Best Supporting Actor in a Female Role would go to her. Shreyas Talpade as the letter writer is endearing and a joy to watch. I only hope that his sweet acts don’t limit him to Amol Palekar type of roles.
The movie is a telling commentary on the country’s divisive politics and how a change is desirable. It’s presented through songs taking a dig at religion based politics and how both the mandir and the majsid groups have utterly failed to address the problem of the common man. So the question is asked if a eunuch should now take charge. This is not supposed to be the Third Front but maybe a radically different choice. At the same time the brutal truth of social rigidity and intolerance, the exploitation of village migrants, the rampant superstition is also brought home. You can’t win them all. So while there are some success stories there will remain some evils which will take time to go away. Benegal has taken a practical viewpoint although his winding up of the story could have been a little less weird. It sort of grinds to a halt but that doesn’t take anything away from an otherwise outstanding movie.

Movie Review- A Wednesday

2008-09-14T08:18:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	A Wednesday !

I had thought of writing about this movie on the weekend and suddenly the bomb blasts of Delhi gave it a whole new significance. Why do we react strongly only when something happens at our doorsteps? And how do we define the proximity of disaster? Is the threshold of danger the border of my country or my city or my locality? The blasts of Bangalore and Ahemdabad were disconcerting but Delhi had us all in a spin. Why? My daughter is studying there and I have a number of friends and relatives there. My apathy was suddenly challenged. So am I a good & an aware citizen? What’s my contribution in stemming the rot that has set in the system? Who created the system anyway? The movie explores these stark facets of our daily lives.
Bollywood is finally waking up to the fact that realistic cinema can be both thought provoking and gripping. We can thank the noveau Multiplex culture for making this ideal commercially possible. The producers even had the guts of not permitting any songs in the movie! And the wonder of all is that the movie gets over and you realize you never missed the songs at all. Brilliant stuff!
The story is contemporary. Mumbai faces a threat of serial bombing if certain terrorists are not released. Anupam Kher & Naseeruddin Shah play the cop & the tormentor. Shah places the bombs at strategic locations and then starts communicating with the police using guile & state of art technology. The police react with alacrity & the game of cat and mouse begins culminating in a surprising climax. The forte of the movie is the slick editing which results in the unfolding of the events which are spaced within a seven hour frame at a breathtaking pace. There are no unnecessary emotional histrionics or loud claims of patriotism or religious fervor. People on both sides of the fence go about their jobs with clinical efficiency. They do it because it needs to be done.
Both Kher & Shah are powerhouses of talent which has been unleashed to devastating effect. Kher’s portrayal of a cerebral police officer is as telling as that of Aamir Khan in “Sarfarosh”. Shah is efficiency personified and then some. His seething anger is brilliantly restrained and the beautifully long justification of his actions threw me back to the era of Sohrab Modi movies where powerful dialogues swathed across a person’s consciousness. Jimmy Shergill hardly speaks thrice in the entire movie but his expressions & actions fully justify his role of an efficient if brutal officer. The only weak link in casting is the press reporter played by Deepal Shaw. She can’t talk and she can’t walk and her dialogue delivery was like raucous staccato. Baby Doll seems only good enough for titillating videos.
The movie forces the viewer to ask a lot of questions of him and any work, movie or otherwise, which succeeds in doing that has justified its existence. However it would be tragic if our concerns get diluted with time and daily routine.

Cricket Info

2008-09-07T20:53:00.001+05:30

Movie Review- Rock On

2008-09-03T22:43:00.001+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Rock On

“Ajeeb dastan hai yeh. Kahan shuru kahan khatam. Yeh manzilan hain kaun si. Na woh samajh sake na hum.” The Lata Mangeshkar classic from Dil Apna Aur Preet Parai effectively captures the spirit and the innocence of this engrossing work. It’s the story of almost all of us who at their early twenties feel the world is just waiting for us to take it over and ten years later find ourselves where we never belonged in the first place. This is about dreams, about love & heart break, about lasting friendship and above all about music. This one is straight from my heart.
The mainstay of the movie is music and Shankar, Ehsaan & Loy have excelled once again. They have composed rock music before but Rock On’s melodies are special. All the numbers with the exception of “Zehreeley” can be listened to time and again. My car stereo has been blasting the movie’s music & my pony tail bobbing up and down for the past two days and people are beginning to give me weird looks every time I stop at a traffic light. Why can’t it be understood that no self respecting rock fan can hear the music at low volume and with a little bit of head banging? Farhan Akhtar’s talent in the craft of movie making is a proven fact but he has been a revelation as a singer and an actor, in that order. An awesome stage presence and his primal screams were reminiscent of Jim Morrison’s stage acts. The live performances have been flawlessly executed and the enthusiastic participation of the audience beautifully captured.
So far as others performances go everyone has done well but I found Luke Kenny to be a wee bit wooden which was surprising considering his long career as a VJ with MTV. Arjun Rampal has put in a restrained and an intense portrayal of a passionate guitarist torn between his longing for his passion and the daily domestic struggle to earn bread. I also loved his long hair. Sigh, mine are never going to be as long as his. Purab Kohli has walked effortlessly through his role with a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. His jiving to the song “I Will Survive” was a masterpiece. We ought to see more of him soon.
The pace of the movie is electric and does not slacken even when going through the mushy part. The story is of four friends who pick up the threads of their broken past and strive to realize their unfulfilled dream. Each one is an adept musician and seems made for each other until fate & reality steps in to destroy their dreamlike existence. But since the good guys should always win they are given a second chance by the Man up there. The progression of their quest is peppered with flashbacks of the past which torments their souls but also contains the elements of their salvation. For those who seek happiness with passion, the paths are not always lined with roses. The trick is to keep the passion alive and happiness will follow. Our dudes do just that. Like I said, this one is straight from the heart. We have all been there.

My Changed Life

2008-07-25T06:30:00.000+05:30

All my wonderful days of eating & drinking & making merry are taking a well deserved break if not totally over (I hope not). Mother nature decided to tell me that there is no such thing as always being the King of good times. Besides my fanatsy world it happens only on TV. So when my wiser half, my beautiful muse Chhamak Challo observed that I had lost seven kilograms while paying obesiance to Bacchus followed by the curries that Supriya grudges me, she marched me off to a pathology lab. I turned out to be Medical Resident's dream. All the counts would have done Late Sir Edmund Hilary proud. They had all climbed unheard of peaks. Mr Pancreas had decided that I shall be sweeter to the fair wenches than ever before and to help me in doing that instead of considerable shots of Glenmorangie I now freak out on Insulin twice a day. Mr Liver had decided to gain weight and girth but is getting back to shape now. Mr Heart was also fnding it hectic to keep pace with my speed of indulgence. Both these guys are behaving themselves now as I have put them in their proper place. But I have had enough of being betrayed by my own flesh & blood. The loss of the next 7 kgs was entirely my own doing. I found this reallly pretty & passionate (about her work, silly) dietician in Fortis Hospital who made me this fantastic diet plan. I am now on very intimate terms with various vegetables. The curries of yore are beginning to become a bit of a dream. Before you burst into tears let me assure you that I am still me. Every twenty days or so I eat whatever I like (nothing sweet though) but that evening its an extra ten minutes of exercise.
Pegbaazi I don't do now but fear not, the bar is still stocked and open and no one is turned away from my door thirsty. Thou shall imbibe and the pleasure shall be all mine.And I still cook for others and I am loving it.

Movie Review- The Dark Knight

2008-07-19T17:34:00.001+05:30

Two superhero movies in two weeks is not my usual choice but the near simultaneous releases turned out to be a happy coincidence. Batman has always been my favourite comic book character, right after Phantom & Mandrake and since I have followed all the movies of the caped crusader right from my childhood, The Dark Knight was a must see. In my review of Hancock I had dwelled upon the change in the characters of the super heroes keeping up with the changing social mores & perceptions. It’s a more humane face of the super league that we are presented with. Even the dark & blue hues of Gotham city have been substituted with the metropolitan ethos replete with crowded streets and towering skyscrapers. Of course, the tall buildings are a great incentive to our hero for those un-nerving dives and the elegant flights. My vertigo prone Chammak Challo watched all those scenes with her eyes closed.
Val Kilmer had been my choice for Batman’s role till Christian Bale took over in the Batman Begins and what a powerhouse performance that was! Incidentally, for the movie buffs, Bale’s first major performance was the key role as a 14 year old in Spielberg’s Empire of the Sun. In The Dark Knight we find him much more restrained. In fact he’s more appreciable when out of the costume and the contrived voice of Batman didn’t quite impress me. Apart from that he has acquitted himself well. The freshness of the character of Batman is in the realization of the fact that he is human after all and despite all the super mega talents not entirely invulnerable. He bleeds, is getting aware of the passing age and feeling a wee bit tired in the persistent role of the singular vigilante of Gotham City. As a logical progression of this thought, in steps the District Attorney Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart) who takes on the city’s scum with single minded fortitude. Batman is almost relieved that perhaps he can pass on his mantle to the zealous D.A. Both crime fighters team up the police chief Gordon (Gary Oldman) and devise a plan to clean up the city.
However they are up against Batman’s arch foe, Joker. Even when he is drawn out in the open by the crusading trio he turns the tables on them by some ingenious maneuvering. Amongst all the action the Joker also seeks to test the limits of incorruptibility of men and their social conscience. He partially succeeds only to discover that the good guys do get to win in the end. I thought Jack Nicholson was the ultimate in the Joker’s role and never thought that Heath Ledger had it in him to match the earlier version but the man has made it his swan song, may his soul rest in peace. While Nicholson’s portrayal hinged on comic, the late Mr. Ledger has given a stunning performance as the menacing psychopathic Joker. The timing and the content of his dialogue and the delivery thereof is flawless.
Morgan Freeman plays the CEO of Wayne Enterprise and Michael Caine as Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne’s man Friday. Caine is becoming as much a permanent fixture of Batman movies as was Desmond Liewelyn as “Q” in the James Bond series. The heroine is forgettable.
Although the special effects are awesome as would be expected from an A list movie, the real thrill is in the high powered hand to hand combat. The sound and sight of a Batman hit does great credit to his prowess. Both the principal gizmos viz the Batmobile, a souped up Lamborghini and the monstrous bike were great fun to watch.
For a comic book movie the dialogues are thoughtful, almost philosophical. The climax is surprising and nerve wrecking. And the debate between honour & corruptibility continues.

Moview review- Hancock

2008-07-19T16:52:00.001+05:30

All ye DC Comics and Marvel aficionados need to reorient your conception of superheroes. In the constantly meandering labyrinths of social transactions where the nature of man is redefined everyday our good old superhero hasn’t remained unaffected. Gone is the emotionless face wearing which he would clinically execute the fall of his super foes. Now they feel the love, get affected by loss & rejection and also get drunk & roundly abused. Are these the super guys we have grown up with? I am not complaining but merely marveling at the imaginative twist that the movie makers have come up with.

Will Smith has come a long way since his hip hop days. Back in the mid eighties to early nineties he was better known as The Fresh Prince, the lead vocalist of the group DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince. His rendition of “Summertime” still remains one of my favorite songs. The movie’s Big Willie, Mr. Hancock is thousands of years old fellow whose flying skills can put Superman to shame. And while he is not busting the villains, destroying property worth several million dollars in the process he is busy emptying bottles of whiskey and taking a nap where he wills (pun intended). Besides defying gravity he is also bullet proof, knife proof and hit proof. In short nothing affects him physically. And here is the twist! The superhero goes ballistic whenever he is abused. How human! Due to his flawed crime fighting abilities and a foul mouth the media, the police and finally the public turns against him.

This is the age of celebrities who conjure up a hyped image of themselves aided and abetted by media manipulators euphemistically called image consultants. In walks Ray Embrey (Jason Bateman) who becomes eternally grateful to Hancock for saving him from being run over by a train. Sensing an opportunity to put his PR skills to test he proposes an image makeover to Hancock which involves surrendering to the police, spending some time in the jail and waiting for the police to call him back because crime is bound to rise in his absence from the streets even as the public property is safe from him. There are some interesting shots of the jail. One of them is of the self purging meetings on the lines of those of Alcoholics Anonymous. After consistent refusals to open up, a single line comment “I am Hancock and I drink and stuff” is enough to be reciprocated by loud and encouraging applause. Soon Embrey’s plan begins to bear fruit and Hancock is back in mainstream circulation and this time without the previous opprobrium. At this time everyone can happily live ever after but what about twist number 2?

Mrs Embrey (Charlize Theron), as it turns out, is a super heroine as well and to top that she is “technically” Hancock’s wife since the like of them were made in pairs. The cynical Hancock suddenly finds that his love quotient has taken a northward swing. Only the object of his affection is torn between the loyalty to her husband and the love of three thousand years. The raison d'etre is twist number 3. The invulnerability of the super couple goes down when they come closer emotionally. In some ways it is a Greek tragedy where love is doomed despite best intentions. The resolution of this mess is what rest of the movie is all about. Its entertaining, its different and its fun. Go watch!

Movie Review- Indiana Jones & the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

2008-06-28T08:31:00.000+05:30

It’s been way too long for Indiana Jones to whiplash his way back to the silver screen and only Spielberg could bring alive the persona of Indiana Jones, hat, boots, bull whip and all. For the uninitiated let me first give a small history lesson. Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, two of the hottest talents of the seventies decided to come together to make a movie which at the time was promoted as “the return of high adventure”. The movie, “Raiders of the Lost Ark” was directed by Spielberg & produced by Lucas, and went on to be one of the highest grosser of all time. Set in the time of 2nd World War, the pulsating story of the search for the Ark of the Covenant moved from US to Nepal and climaxed in Egypt.
It was followed by the not so good “Indiana Jones & the Temple of the Doom”. Amrish Puri made a forgettable Hollywood debut but the romance of Indy’s adventures remained alive. The third “Indiana Jones & the Last Crusade” is my second favorite because it had the unflappable Sean Connery who plays Indy’s father. The search of the Holy Grail is one of my all time favorite yarns.
The common thread in all the above movies was the swash buckling, devil may care Indy Jones who got into and out of the most impossible situations with charm and panache. He plays a professor of archaeology who goes after the most difficult searches for old and forgotten relics, fights the bad guys, gets the girl and always has a happy ending.
The latest offering is all of the above but hey, Indy is twenty years older and yet hasn’t seem to have lost his appetite of jumping over unjumpables and avoiding the million bullets that chase him. But then he has an illustrious contemporary in our own Rajnikant who can do all of this and more.
The movie is set in the mid fifties when US saw a commie behind every pole and the obsession of UFOs was coming of age. However Spielberg’s obsession with aliens continues to be unrelenting as ever. So this time we have a sword brandishing Kate Blanchett, a protégé of Stalin, who with a little help of stoic faced hoodlums manages to get hold of Indy to guide them to the high security warehouse where the US Govt. stores all its rare, unexplainable artifacts. Those who have seen Raiders of the Lost Ark would remember the last scene where the Ark is being wheeled into this warehouse to its new and anonymous residence. The desired object this time is, well what else, a crystal skull which is the key to untold knowledge and unlimited power. Indy scores in round one and escapes, only to resume the chase later in the time honored tradition of the perennial adventurer.
Accompanying him this time is a John Dean look-alike teenager with an attitude. As it turns out he is Indy’s son and from whom? Surprise, surprise, its Karen Allen, the vivacious, hard drinking, kick ass girl friend from the first edition of the series. Like Indy she has aged but the passion remains alive. It was great watching her all over again.
The end is predictable. The special effects from Lucas’s factory Industrial Light & Magic are awesome, especially the aliens sequence at the end. And Indy decides to settle down with his old lady love and the new found progeny. I loved his reply when asked by Karen if there were other women in his life and why he didn’t marry them. The man says”Yes there were some but all of them had the same problem. None of them was you”. Here’s a toast to old love and fairy tale endings. Cheers !!

Movie Review- Sarkar Raj

2008-06-09T20:36:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Sarkar Raj

The Bachhan family gets together finally and it’s a reasonably good for a fist time togetherness act. Also Ram Gopal Verma must have found his smile back. What intrigued me particularly how after safely copying the storyline of The Godfather in the first movie, would RGV hold the story together in the sequel. There is however a thinly disguised difference. Those familiar with the Godfather story would remember the Sollozo episode where he makes an offer of partnership for import of drugs to the Don and is turned down. And then all hell breaks loose. Well over here there is a proposal of setting up a power project (worth two hundred thousand crores, no less) by a well meaning Ash but she is surrounded by sleazy characters who are in it for their pound of flesh. The senior Nagre(AB) declines help because it involves displacement of thousands of people. The junior AB however keeps quiet because he has his own opinion on the project. His silence does not go un noticed. To quell a possible backlash AB junior goes to the masses. Things are not so cut and dried because opposition and resistance to his convictions erupt in the countryside spearheaded by the grandson of the mentor of the senior Nagre.
Interesting concept, yes, but the sequence of the action drags till the intermission. The story changes to political power play with the end game being to destroy the hegemony of the Nagre family. The opposition succeeds partially but the end is predictable. Paying homage to all the three Godfather movies RGV bumps off the entire opposition and at the end you are left with the feeling that Sarkar III is on its way. Whew, where will he find the story this time. Well there is no dearth of homegrown gangsters. Maybe now he won’t have to look for American aid.
Powerful emotions are sought to be highlighted by thumping background score rather than the expressions of the lead actors. Honorable exceptions are Sayaji Shinde, who plays the buffoon of a leader of opposition and Govind Namdeo who plays the sleazy fixer and of course Rao Saheb (AB senior’s mentor) brilliantly portrayed by Dilip Prabhavalkar (remember the Gandhi of Munnabhai). Amitabh is his usual competent self. Ash looks pretty. Abhishek is capable of much better.
The music is ordinary and (sigh) copied. “Govinda Govinda” is a straight rip off of “Ave Satani” from Omen II (Damien). Nothing to die for but the flick is a good watch especially if you have seen the first one.

IPL Masala

2008-05-02T14:56:00.001+05:30

i think Bhajji has been taught the right lesson by being hit where it matters the most, monkey business was good but one can't go around hitting fellow players on the field. Bhajji should learn few lessons from our MP Sidhuji... he will teach him the trick to box without any loss...

IPL rocks.... but think cricket won't be the same here on... but then only thing permanent is Change so who cares..!!

Movie Review: Tashan

2008-05-01T07:44:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Tashan

Tashan

For all those who haven’t seen this movie due to lack of interest/bad reviews/ time kahan milta hai/ main office main bahut busy hoon, its time to reschedule your thinking of orthodox perspectives, leave your brain behind your PC and enjoy this movie. Ask me why? We have seen the likes of this many times over BUT none has been executed this professionally. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the epitome of the great Hindi masala movie. Ask me how?

The story has the classical theme from the genre of James Hadley Chase novels where interesting episodes are woven together to form a story, which is there but you can always predict what’s going to happen next. In there lies the excellence of the movie making craft in making the predictable interesting. The flashbacks have been artfully deployed for proper narration as also the stage whispers which have been effectively used to shove the story forward. The editing is slick and the action fast paced. I wonder if the audience has properly appreciated the action. Before eulogizing let me explain. The action in this movie is sublime and gross. It’s the gross you carry in your memory. But Bollywood has finally paid homage to the kung fu genre of movie/craft after a long time. The exaggerated and the gross violence have an eminent precedent. His Eminence Run Run Shaw of the Golden Harvest Productions fame made this genre a craze way back into the 70s. He was the guy who introduced Bruce Lee. Every Chinese movie of his with crazy names like “Snake in the monkey’s shadow” or “The drunken Shaolin Monk” had the hero fighting a couple of dozen guys and blasting all of them with a single roundhouse kick.

Most of the songs could have been done without but I love the improved quality of extras dancing in the background. Of course Sukhwinder’s rendering of “Very happy in my heart, dil dance mare re” is out of this world. The locales of the Mediterranean and Ladakh are breathtaking

Kareena has chiseled her body to perfection and is one of the few Bollywood heroines who look stunning in a bikini. Now whether it’s a before or after a Saif development I would leave to the gossip mongers but Man she looks like an angel with a deceptively innocent smile. Her vivacity comes across like a whiff of fresh air. Saif is his usual competent self. I am partial to Akshay Kumar , so whatever I may say about him will seem biased. But his characterization of the UP local hoodlum ought to win him a few awards.

Anil Kapoor deserves a separate paragraph. Bhaiya ji, has rendered am exemplary performance as a killer don desperately wanting fluency in English. Saif is the Guru ji employed to teach and for all his efforts what comes across is an amazing mix of English and Hindi from the streets of Kanpur. A scene or two could have been managed by everyone but carrying it through the entire movie is a feat for which Kapoor as well the script writer deserve kudos. The sequence where he recreates in Hinglish the unforgettable monologue of Amitabh Bachhan from Deewar. “Aaj khush to bahut hoge tum” turns into “Lots happy you must be”. But let me not play the spoiler. This you need to experience yourself. Celebrate the gross and the ordinary and enjoy

2008-04-13T23:20:00.001+05:30

Movie Review: Shaurya

2008-04-13T23:17:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Shaurya

I hadn’t been to a movie theatre since mid February and was beginning to get withdrawal symptoms. I am so glad that I ended this sabbatical with Shaurya. For once I happily overlooked that the story is a straight lift of “A Few Good Men” and thoroughly enjoyed the drama adapted to the Indian context.
The story is about the Court Martial of an army officer accused of killing a fellow officer. He maintains a silence on his guilt or otherwise. Two friends in the JAG branch are transferred to the accused officer’s place of incarceration to take on the roles of the opposing counsels in the trial. What is supposed to be an open and shut case takes another dimension when a chirpy journalist, the forgettable Minnisha Lamba, introduces some doubts in the mind of the defence counsel, Rahul Bose. In a happy go lucky and devil may care life a sense of purpose is introduced. The movie is as much about the awakening of maturity of the dedicated to fun Mr Rahul Bose as about the ready to die for his convictions Mr Deepak Dobriyal who plays, ah what else, but a conscientious and a nationalist Muslim army officer. The evil that men do find a persona in the character of Brig Pratap who confuses every Muslim with the demon who had wiped out his family. KK does immense justice to this characterization with his usual professional competence. Deepak Dobriyal rides the movie with a searing intensity which flows from his glowing eyes. Javed Jaffery like me is at last beginning to look old but still, like me retains his sense of fun. He sizzled a bit in the beginning of the movie, a totally unnecessary dance number accompanying the not so sizzling Rosa of the Saif fame. It’s a bit tragic to see the could be Begum of Pataudi reduced to an item number.
The songs are forgettable, the background music is tremendous and the photography is good. It was great to watch shots of Patiala’s Mahindra College and the beauty of Manali which is supposed to be Kashmir in the movie.
A word again about the two principal players in the movie. I admire Rahul Bose on many counts. He lives life the way he wants to. Does movies, plays in the national Rugby team, stays single and remains fit. Deepak Dobriyal, for the uninformed is an Uttarakhandi and my parochial Uttarakhandi chhamak challo has decided that he is the real hero of the movie. So as of this evening my children have a new Mama. So what does this have to with the movie? I feel that both of them bring freshness to the cinema that at least I have been yearning for some time. Both are young and different and harbingers of a new era. Cheers and amen to that.

2008-02-20T19:42:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Jodhaa Akbar

Movie Review:Jodha Akbar

2008-02-19T23:20:00.000+05:30

After just about tolerating all the semi comical and amateurish stuff on television I had been expectantly waiting for a long time for an Indian movie maker to do justice to a historical/period movie. Jodha Akbar was a trifle disappointing but not a total disaster either. In today’s times when the attention span of the audience is progressively on the descendent holding interest for three and a half hours is no mean feat.

My disappointment as usual lies in the lack of direction of the story. The director is clearly confused on what he wants to present. It’s Akbar the conqueror at first and the reluctant lover next. Suddenly the statesman in him manifests amongst the angst of the ruled and secular dialogues are spewed forth. Where does that leave the pretty Jodha? Her character development is a little better. From a bride made out of political compulsions of her father to the Empress of Hindustan having an unbending will of her own, Aishwarya has conducted herself with élan. Her eyes flash a million expressions. The supposed love story and the impact it had on the Indian polity (as we are reminded at the end) remains half baked but interesting in patches.

It is inevitable that comparison with movies of similar genre be made and well, the good old ones like Mughal-e-Azam, Anarkali score higher in a lot many areas. For once the music of A R Rehman did not sound fetching except the song “Khwaza mere khwaza” which is a masterpiece of flawless performance and execution. Hritik’s sway to the beats of this song was synonymous with the devotion with which it has been sung by Rehman. One of his best, I reckon. Although Hritik looked fetching to the moony eyed girls in the hall, he lacks the gravitas and regal demeanor expected of a scion of the Mughal dynasty. But since he and Prithvi Raj Kapur potrayed different ages of Akbar a comparison would be unfair. However JA has been eminently successful in recreating the feel of the times it talks about. The photography is superb. The forts, desert, costumes and the princely splendor of Rajasthan has been captured with an expert’s eye for detail. Reportedly Neeta Lulla designed more than three thousand costumes for the movie. Her hard work shows and beautifully so. The battle scenes are good and gory but again no match for those of Mughal-e Azam. Gowariker missed a trick here. K Asif had hired the services of 63rd(or is it 61st) Cavalry for the war scenes. Computer graphics could have been a good substitute but they are atrociously expensive. However for the sheer scale of production and for the spectacle value I would rate the movie pretty high. Some of the scenes are unbelievably real especially where Hritik tames a wild elephant. The single combat at the climax, although a-la Troy is pretty engrossing and full of energy.

Some howlers are there but they are inevitable I guess. Just imagine, a full house “Deewane-e Aam” is adjourned because Aishwarya decides to sing a bhajan to Lord Krishna in a voice loud enough to reverberate in the corridors where state business is being transacted. My wife, however, was pretty charitable saying “Bhai, who Raja hai. Kuchh bhi kar sakta hai”. Agreed but I cannot forgive the next. The king is seriously wounded and unconscious with the medicine men pronouncing the worst possible prognosis. The queen instead of holding his hand or assisting in medication goes in for divine intervention and sure enough the next morning he opens his eyes. Sigh, it will take some time for us to come out with a Benhur or a Cleopatra. But till then the likes of Jodha Akbar will do.

Movie Review: Mithya

2008-02-11T20:24:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Mithya

This one is strictly for Multiplex movie types who are still caught between the erstwhile art and the nouvaeu experimental cinema. I admire Rajat Kapoor for having attempting this at all. But, but, but (Oh my buts, no pun intended) the movie begins and ends from nowhere to nowhere. Well that’s the feel I got. The story is there but not quite. The performances are great but from entirely unexpected quarters. The music is forgettable. The locales are fantastic. The photography is surrealistic at times but efficiently done. So like the movie where do I begin and where do I end this write up.
The words of the immortal James Douglas Morrison flashed through my mind while watching the movie and crystallized at its end.
“The program for this evening is not new
You’ve seen this entertainment through and through
You’ve seen your birth, your life and death
You might recall all the rest
Did you have a good life?
Enough to base a movie on?”
Apparently Rajat Kapoor thought so about his hero. This dark comedy is about an aspiring actor, brilliantly portrayed by Ranvir Shorey, emulating the countless wannabe heroes in the tinsel town of Mumbai. His idyllic struggle in the moviedom is rudely interrupted when he is becomes an unwilling witness to a murder attempt on an underworld don who, well, looks exactly like him. The don’s enemies devise a plan to takeover the business of reigning Don. So they kidnap our hero, terrorize him, threaten him, pay him and then train him to take the place of his look alike, who is then waylaid and shot. All the pieces are now in place or are they?
He settles down reasonably well in his new role and just when things seem to be going as per plan he falls down from a banister and loses his memory. I won’t play the spoiler and reveal the subsequent developments. The sudden twists and turns in the story keep the viewer interested but somehow one doesn’t quite find what one is looking for. Like I said, almost there but not quite.
The spectrum of human emotions has been explored quite cleverly. The character of Ranvir takes off from being a happy go lucky youth, to a contented family man, to a terror struck brutalized victim, to hopelessness and bewilderment with remarkable aplomb. Vinay Pathak walks through his role of a Mafiosi thug with consummate ease. Neha Dhupia, despite her rapidly expanding bottoms, was a pleasant surprise. Saurabh Shukla and Naseeruddin Shah were the two unexpected disappointments. The first was too loud and Mr Shah too quiet in a most insignificant role. Harsh Chhaya, as the dead don’s brother exuded the menace of a professional gangster.
Despite my reservations, my compliments must go to Rajat Kapoor for being there in frontline of the brave new movie makers. It is a fantastic effort and he can only get better. He has created a laudable mirage. Take what you can from it !

Movie Review: Halla Bol

2008-01-20T10:12:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Halla Bol

The master of cliché Raj Kumar Santoshi makes a valiant effort to break out from the masala mode and all but falls flat on his face. My eternal complaint to Bollywood regarding good and original stories remains firmly in place. Here, our man, cashes in on the Jessica Lal episode and has tried to interpolate it with the tragic saga of Safdar Hashmi. Even the name of the movie has been inspired (groan) by the play being enacted by Hashmi when he was murdered.
Nevertheless there was enough potential to make a powerful political statement. Here is where you need a director with a strong political conviction and not just an ordinary movie maker. You will have to wait till the interval for the movie to develop any substance. The basic question of the untapped collective social conscience which the movie chooses to explore and explain remains unanswered. The elusive bird called social responsibility is sought but lost in the reams of wasted celluloid. A laudable cause but a lost effort. So who is responsible?
Ajay Devgun, for being the wooden and unlikely hero for a cause. He moves through the movie like a disinterested zombie. What the hell happened to him after Ganga Jal and Omkara??
Vidya Balan, for choosing to remain in doormat roles despite her huge talent and her atrocious sense of dressing. I can do far better shopping from my local Rehri Market.
The honourable exception, of course, is Pankaj Kapoor who as usual has turned in a powerhouse of a performance and will remain my only reason for recommending to anyone to watch the movie.
Sukhwinder Singh is one of my favourite singers but I am not sure he can deliver as a music director as well. Where the hell did he find this ten ring fingered over nourished overfed Sabri for rendering a horrible quawalli? None of the other songs do credit to his talent either.
Santoshi ought to contemplate retirement! Farcical and pretentious directors like him and of his ilk like Bhansali, Karan whatever should be dumped in the Arabian Sea. And arise Aameer Khan, the future belongs to you.

Movie Review:Taare Zameen Par

2008-01-05T09:46:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Taare Zameen Par

Every time I saw a movie by Speilberg or Ridley Scott or the older classics of David Lean or William Wyler I asked myself why we did not have a comparable movie maker to show us the great big story. We have had pretenders like SL Bhansali stealing ideas and having delusions of grandeur and also Farah Khan cashing upon the greatness of the ordinary. At least FK did not boast of being original. Am I happy or am I ecstatic at learning that a new star director has evolved in Bollywood. Spielberg knows the child in every man and always brings out the deepest emotions in the most moving ways. Aamir Khan has finally done it for me and beautifully so.
The movie bursts forth with a magical collage of colors and the best of animation seen in Hindi cinema. You would love to see the titles. Of course it’s not for the first time you would be seeing the struggle of a dyslexic child, a caring and a supportive outsider and the eventual triumph. But the dream of every movie maker of carrying the audience with every rise and fall of emotions is effectively realized here. You want to reach out to comfort the distraught child and you soar with the happiness of his achievements. For me the movie once again brought to life the pains of growing up. The sudden shattering of a protected environment and to be thrown amongst strangers at a tender age is a trauma for any child. Standing alone and staring forlornly at the back of the vehicle carrying your mother away, bitter shedding of tears behind closed toilet doors and the all consuming sense of loneliness brought back memories from the deep recesses of my consciousness. I am not ashamed to admit that my tears flowed freely.
Darsheel Safary’s disarming innocence reflects in his eyes. The boy is a natural and has carried the movie on his small shoulders. Whether it’s his childish pranks or his discomfiture in the classroom or his lonely grief, he makes you believe in him. It’s what I would call an honest portrayal. Having said that a huge amount of credit should go to Aamir Khan the director for not cornering the lion’s share of footage for Aamir the actor. That’s what was required of a good director and he delivered. In fact he makes his first appearance just before the intermission.
The narrative is gripping and unrelenting. For an emotional movie there isn’t a single dull moment. Its storytelling at it’s best. The camera moves swiftly from one compelling image to another. Ordinary people and everyday images of the ordinary are beautifully juxtaposed with the curious journey of the child. The parents are who you find in almost every second household. The busy father who goes into a denial mode when confronted with his son’s handicap. The helpless mother who can only watch with dismay at her loved one. Aamir the actor excels again, this time as an art teacher who was dyslexic himself in his childhood. He recognizes Darsheel’s problem and from then on the story is how he finally succeeds in helping him overcome it. There are other lovable characters too. It seemed as if the teachers had jumped right out of my boarding school days. Anyone who has been to a public school would readily identify the English teacher who is always more English that the English themselves. Even the fake British accent has been copied to perfection.
Shankar, Ehsaan & Loy are only getting better. “Tujhe sab to pata hai meri Ma” is heart rending and soulfully depicts a child’s tortured mind. However what takes your breath away is the haunting background score. Aamir Khan is reported to be a perfectionist and he has more than proven it. This one ought to be a winner at the Oscars.

Movie Review:Welcome

2007-12-24T11:00:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Welcome

Another Sunday, another movie. This one I had been expectantly waiting to see ever since I seen its preview a few months earlier. A story about mobsters taking time off from murder and mayhem to arrange a suitable boy for their sister showed promise. The gangster twosome of Anil Kapoor and Nana Patekar along with their supremo, the dapper Feroz Khan had to be a surefire hit. And the handsome Akki, who can’t do any wrong nowadays, had to deliver. You must have figured out by now where I am heading. I was wrong on all counts. The preview flattered to deceive. It contained the best shots of the movie (but naturally) but take that away and you are left with a damp squib.

It’s not for the first time that the director/producer/story writer/whoever has started with an interesting idea but lost his way before the first two reels were canned. A pathetic commentary on the writing talent serving Bollywood. Sometimes I am forced to think that our guys actually perform the best when they are copying someone else’s idea. That way half their problem is solved. The collective genius of the production unit can then fall back upon their skills honed over years of calculated plagiarism. The disappointment is mine alone. My kids freaked out and the audience clapped regularly. Even I laughed at times. But as the movie progressed the jokes fell flat for me.

This movie is in the genre of Bhagam Bhag, Bhool Bhulaiya, Hera Pheri and Phir hera Pheri, where it depends greatly on a combustion of high voltage activity and a gag a minute. To see where it fails read para two above. The movie has been given a lot of gloss through exotic locales of Dubai and the Sun City of South Africa. But here even Katrina looks phika. Paresh Rawal seriously needs to reinvent himself. He has done the same kind of roles in probably the last twenty movies. Same expression and the same kind of dialogue delivery.

Feroz Khan is a sentimental favorite and it was refreshing to see that he still retains that zing that always made him special. His sense of debonair dressing is still impeccable. Anil Kapoor and Nana were good too, especially Anil. He is ageless and to my mind the next Dev Anand. There is still that spring in his step and his portrayal of the tapori Don has been played to perfection. Nana is for once restrained as opposed to loud but nothing extraordinary. But all three gel perfectly in the title song at the end. Akki is good but has been better. My vote for the most interesting character goes to Mallika Sehrawat. And this has nothing to do with my hormones. She comes across as the sexy, oomphy lass she is supposed to be. The X factor drips from her face and I could see quite a few tongues rolling out in the aisle. May her tribe increase?

Rating: See it if you must but alternatively you is WELCOME for a drink at my pad.

The Colloquial Punjabi

2007-12-24T10:59:00.000+05:30

This one is not for the squeamish or the prude. Either one can take an exit now. I had referred to the colloquial Punjabi literature in an earlier movie review. Here we go the whole hog, well almost. So what constitutes the colloquial? Actually it’s a sum total of feelings in everyday human transactions. Most people hardly ever write of what we speak or actually feel. The conventional writer is usually constrained by the opinion that he perceives that people should have of him. Hence the speed breaker he doesn’t drive recklessly over and the proper Queen’s English for every soul. There are honorable exceptions of course. The very original Mulk Raj Anand. A deceptively soft translation of addressing an insignificant village lad is “Pea” because for a rustic Punjabi “Dana” is a normal name for any kid you do not know. However even M R Anand took care not to offend his readers and translated the classical Punjabi abuses MC/BC to an acceptable “Rape of your mother” and “Rape of your sister”. I am sure it’s not the right translation but then Mr Anand is an established and a published literary icon. Who the hell am I to dispute a writing which has won accolades decades back? But gratifyingly he did a faithful reproduction of the classical Punjabi word for gays. English abuses are really no fun and seem almost sophisticated. Therefore a good vocabulary of Punjabi abuses is absolutely essential for a normal life. Were it not so you can well imagine the serious handicap you would have if you were to get into a fight or worse a heated argument. The guy who is better equipped always wins.

How sweet do you think it is when your loved one calls you a doggy? You are going to love it. Alternatively try hearing “Kutta” or better still “Kuttey”. Do you still have the same warm feelings? The usage of this word was taken to an art form by our very own Garam Dharam. And of course there is no fun in questioning a person’s parentage by simply calling him a bastard. Try doing it in a slow drawl a-la Ajit, the Loin of Bollywood. Harrramza… well you know.

There is a time for every thing, even abuses. Some are complimentary. “Arre yaarr toone to BC kamaal kar diya”. Some are not “ Abbe MC, man kar raha hai teri gadi thok doon”. The word “gadi” can also be substituted by other human relationships. Bollywood is still wrongly politically correct. Madar Jaat or Teri Maa Ki Aankh is extensively used but my vocabulary of the language knows that there is no place for these expressions. It means nothing. A much better version of Teri Ma Ki Aankh is used in my friend Tarunjit Tejpal’s book “An Alchemy of Desire” along with a treasure of other vernacular expletives. I doff my hat to him and to the makers of Bandit Queen and Omkara for bravely telling it like it is.

For understanding the graphic descriptions of the Punjabi art of telling someone off or getting rid of your boss or to simply have a good time here is a proven stress buster. Look at the mirror, snort your nose, let the hair of your mustaches bristle, take a deep breath and before you exhale remember the person you hate the most and yell, Teri……………… (Ab kya yeh bhi bataana padega). Just do it man.

Khoya Khoya Chand

2007-12-10T09:57:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Khoya Khoya Chand

It is a bit difficult to review this movie. The genre is completely different from what we have seen for a long long time and only someone like Prakash Jha could have ventured into this experimental journey. The characters have been picked up from an assortment of actors ruling the marquee of show business in the fifties and sixties. Any movie buff of my age would have a lot of fun in identifying facets of the then superstars in the characters of this movie. I really wished that for once I could see a certificate “Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely intentional and on purpose”.

The story is of a young actress (is actor more politically correct) Nikhat (Soha Ali Khan) who has been in the business since “she was fourteen” but finally catches the attention of the reigning superstar, superbly played by Rajat Kapoor. She starts tasting success after the customary round of the casting couch. The superstar merrily two times her. The other ethereal beauty is Sonya Jehan (Noorjahan’s grand daughter). While the cats are eyeing each other with feline disdain, in walks Zafar (I love this name) played by Shiny Ahuja. He is the intense writer from a wealthy family of UP who walks out of his house when the domestic demons that plague his mind torment him beyond acceptance. Sparks fly and amidst hushed gasps and passionate embraces a bond is formed which both liberates and constrains him & Nikhat. The pursuance of individual and artistic fulfillment leads to an inevitable chasm between the two. The eventual reunion and the conventional fate of all great love stories is what the rest of movie is all about.

The pace of the movie is slow and both the interval and the end descend quite abruptly but there are many joys in watching what’s in between. The art director has been faithful to the hairstyles and dresses of that era. Soha shows lovely glimpses of her mother’s innocent yet ravishing beauty. It’s after a long time that I saw actors using proper Urdu diction. It was a delight to the ears as was the music by Shantanu Moitra. The title song by Swanand Kirkire & Ajay Jhingran is hard hitting and jolted me out of my stupor and is still flying in the recesses of my clouded mind. “Kyuuuun, Khoye Khoye Chand Ki Phiraq main talash main udaas hai dil…Kyuuun apne aap se khafa khafa zara zara sa naraaz hai dil” In fact the entire musical repertoire has the fragrance of the superlative music of the sixties.

Most of the movie gives you the feel of watching theatre. Movie making shorn of its glamour finds an accurate depiction. A word here about Saurabh Shukla. Damn, how could I forget him? This bottle of Planter’s Bride is pretty potent. (Before my first drink I think it was called Blender’s Pride). Kallu Mama strikes again with a fantastic portrayal of the crass Punjabi producer. For all those familiar with the colloquial Punjabi his abuses were a riot. Some were refined and some were not. There should be a law against censoring Punjabi abuses in movies. I mean where else would you be able to enjoy the best of the rustic literature we have to offer.

Rating: I loved the movie because I am a dreamer and a romantic. Most people won’t. Does that mean most people are not what I am? I do hope so!!

Movie Review: Om Shanti Om

2007-11-19T06:15:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Om Shanti Om

This year it seems Shahrukh Khan’t do any wrong. Considering that the movie suffers from a severe disease of Nostorycarcinoma the brains at Red Chilly Productions have pulled off an unlikely coup. Farah Khan has presided over the marriage of two classics Karz and Madhumati and in the process created a sequential narrative with predictable ends. However full marks to her for the flawless execution of this copied/palgiarised/inspired piece of fun. I wonder how many of you have seen the original classic “Reincarnation of Peter Proud” from which Karz was “inspired”. Bollywood never copies, it’s always inspired, Mind It.
Now why I did like the movie? It’s actually a celebration of an era in Hindi movies namely the 70s when the gross, the inane and the hamming jet set were the name of the game in Bollywood. Rajesh Khanna was driving the nation hysterical with his “adaas”. God, how did we ever tolerate him? Every movie had the same story with an apology of a difference here and there. Clothes were as loud as Shotgun Sinha’s dialogues. I even spotted SRK wearing outfits similar to RK’s in Hathi Mere Sathi (an all blue shirt/pant rig). Since the hair was worn long careless flicks of the head to remove the locks of the hair from the face have been done with panache.(Psst, I have to do it all the time now). Bell bottoms make a comeback. And the drive of SRK to become a Hero one day is reminiscent of a zillion stories of millions who nurture stars in their eyes. There is also this nonchalant portrayal of a latent desire of every male to attain the dream girl of the silver screen. Our hero is lucky but only just.
Now this leads me on to debutante heroine, Deepika Padukone. I hope I got the name right otherwise Dhoni will probably hit me over the long on for a mighty six. Well Papa Parkash, kya shot mara hai yaar ! His baby is a stunner. Big beautiful eyes, long slender legs, the neck of a gazelle and eyes and a smile to die for. I repeatedly fell in love. I really wished that she should have been given a larger role. Considering all her assets she deserved better. What a waist, I mean waste.
The movie also reminded me of Norman Mailer. May his recently freed soul rest in peace. In his classic book "The Naked and The Dead" he invented the word fug as a substitute to the original four letter obscenity to cater to the conservative sensibilities of the 1940s. Farah Khan got "inspired" to have SRK constantly mouth "What the fish" in the movie. The language English is obviously not her forte but what the fish happened to the taste of the educated SRK who despite his six packs can’t hide an ageing face. He has however gone about his job with clinical efficiency. Shreyas Talpade is finding his feet and will go a long way. Apni Chandigarh product Kiron Thakur Singh (I prefer her maiden name) is of course outstanding. But the surprise package was Arjun Rampal. He was always a good eye candy for girls but here he has acquitted himself well in the male version of Simi’s role.
There are two aspects of the movie which are both novel and endearing. The techniques of the movie making have been shown with refreshing candour. The mock making of a South movie was a particular delight. So Yanna Rascalla, the gross hamming has been done with élan. Secondly the visual presentation of the entire production staff dancing away at the end is a very thoughtful gesture to the unseen contributors.
How do I rate the movie? Without doubt it is going to be amongst the top grossers of the year and in the movie trade jargon it is “Paisa Vasool”

Movie Review: Jab We Met

2007-11-11T13:05:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Jab We Met

The return of the love story! It ought to be marked as a date of importance when in the commonest of movie themes, Hindi cinema took a break from the boy(rich or poor) meets girl (poor or rich) and then their parents fight to the inevitable end. Yawn… is how I started watching this movie at 8 pm, at the insistence of my newly turned adult daughter. Since she already knows everything there is to know about mankind my obsolete self had little choice in the matter.
I am glad I surrendered. The movie starts with a journey being undertaken by a two individuals. One a self pitying procrastinator and the other a 2007 terminator with a machine gun mouth. Both of them start their journeys like most of us in life. A little excited, a little disappointed, a lot of expectations. But then life always takes you where you want it to. (well almost always.. the message of the movie is the same).
Kareena Kapoor, please take a bow. You have done your illustrious genes proud. Such vivacity I have seen preformed rarely. The name that immediately comes to my clouded brain is Vivian Leigh a-la Scarlett-O-Hara. The director Imtiaz Ali will be patted on the back(thumped more likely) and treated with a big glass of lassi or something equally sinful whenever he is here for portraying the joi-de-vivire of the rural Punjab. So we forgive him for not showing the actual Bhatinda railway station. But the chosen house, the depiction of the Punjabi culture will always make Imtiaz my Bhraa (brother for the uninitiated). Shahid comes through with a superlatively restrained performance. And Dara Singh I have always been partial to. He can not make a wrong step. So there.
So whatever happened to the meano in me. Well, he is alive and well. The climax of the movie is very westernized and out of the synch with ethos of the movie. Ok, I don't mind the super mini skirts and the designer micro dhotis on imported models but an innocent little Gidda or a bhangra would have been better. Nevertheleass for all who do go and see the movie it going to be "Maujan hi maujan"

An Ode To The Curry

2007-11-11T13:04:00.000+05:30

So what makes a good curry? It starts with meat. Mutton (top priority), chicken (everybody wants it), fish (everybody should want it), kaleji (aah, the discerning salivate), keema (the royal choice), paaye (only the hard core carnivore's choice). Well take your pick. The first ingredient is a lot of love of cooking for OTHERS. The second is the right choice of cooking medium. Ghee, OK will do, refined oils, who bhi chalega but the sweetheart who burns for you is always mustard oil. The tangy taste it provides cannot be replicated. Don't let any pretentious chef tell you otherwise. The following applies to mutton.
Deg main daalo tel. Get hold of some tej patta, moti and chhoti ilaichi, some laung and let it loose in the simmering oil. Put your lovely face on top of the smoldering cauldron and take a deep breath. The aroma ought to be equivalent of putting you back by one drink. Now throw in the chopped onions (3 to a kg). While they fry go to the bar to make a decent drink, preferably 90 cc of a good whisky with or without water and a lot of ice. Run to the kitchen and add a few heaps of ginger garlic paste to the almost done onions. A few swirls in the cooker and a few swigs later let the meat enter. And now turn turn turn. Turn till the kingdom come for this shall make or break your reputation as a cook. Go back to your bar again, this time increase the quantity of booze and decrease the water. This is very important. Finish half the glass and run back to the kitchen. Turn turn. By now the color of flesh, yours as well as the one at your mercy ought to change. (Note: If yours is constant go back to the bar again. For all others revert back to the previous sentence). Flap your hands and seek three spoons of ground coriander, one of haldi and one of garam masala, the desired salt and flip em all into the cooker. Turn turn turn. And turn right back and finish the glass that you left half finished. Pour another one and carry this one to the kitchen. Grind about 7,8 green chillies and mix them with about four red tomatoes. Now add this to the meat and mix well. Wait for this to mix and boil and finish your drink. Put the lid on the cooker and walk back to the bar, slowly and steadily. Recharge your glass, turn on Mozart's 25 th Symphony in G Minor and dream. In the midst of your heaven the cooker shall yell its first whistle. Put the burner flame on low and go back to your fantasies. Spend ten minutes dreaming of the unattainable and turn off the flame (pun unintended). Have another drink, change and go to sleep. By now you are in no position to eat. In any case this stuff always tastes better the next day.

Movie Review:Laga Chunari Main Daag

2007-10-15T09:39:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Laaga Chunari Mein Daag

This is Pardeep Sarkar’s second movie. The movie to follow Parineeta had to be at least equal to it if not better. It isn’t! Parineeta’s USP was the strong story penned by a giant of Bengali literature. LCMG is at the mercy of the pretenders of prose in Bollywood. I concede the idea had promise but stands underdeveloped. Both the director and the story writer must apportion the blame.

But hey, everything is not bad here. The movie starts with a feel good note. The visuals throughout are stunning. Cameraman, please take a bow as should the choreographer. Shantanu Moitra’s (did I get the name right) music is different and brilliant in patches. “Hum to aise hain bhaiya” gives the movie a promising start. The vivacity and the colour and the traditions of Benaras have been faithfully captured in this opening sequence. I could smell the fragrance of the Benarasi paan and relish the sweetness of rabri and the heady intoxicating Bhaang. Long haired priests, mace swinging young men, quirky foreigners getting their ears cleaned and naked children diving into Ganga get a fair representation. When the action shifts to Mumbai the development of the story stops sizzling. A word here about the char(acters). Each casting is an inspired one. I would say that if ever a team of actors had to rescue a movie through sheer powerhouse performances then LCMG would be right up the tree. I could not fault any of the actors. Kunal Kapoor is surely but steadily finding his feet. Why, even his hair is now almost as long as mine. Jaya Bachhan and Anupam Kher are the perennial professionals. Hema Bhabi was the surprise package. I know most will disagree but I thought Rani Mukerjee was a little below par. And my Oscar goes to Konkona Sen. She is out of this world and each of her performance after Page 3 ought to find its way in the text books of wannabe actors. She is the life of this movie which would have been kaput, zilch, andaa without her powerful presence.

So what do I think of the movie? If you believe in fairytales you might like it. If you are the average practical type the interval may be good time to go home and watch soap. If you are a cynic you are better off staying at home. If you are a must do movie buff like me you will find a lot of things you like which you will forget as soon the cameras stop rolling.

In Defence of Couch Potatoes

2007-10-01T07:25:00.000+05:30

So you think we are nothing. Why, because in your conditioned and convoluted minds we do not make the picture of what one ought to be, well, should be even while every one is trying hard emulating everything we do with panache. We sit, we see, we observe. We opine. For the busy rats in the race it’s a monumental task to hark back their reigns and ponder on the ills that befall the mankind. You the normal ones are in a majority and history tells us that popular opinion is, well, never the intellectual opinion. So recognize the properties of the couch potatoes. The future is going to be foretold by them for they have the time. Fathom their inherent goodness! We are immune to the vagaries of pollution. We are never in conflict with the rule of the road. We do not come in the way of the law of the kitchen, other than when popcorn is necessary for enjoying a rib tickling comedy. We are destined to control life at our fingertips, for that we must do.
We drive with Matt Damon on the roads of Goa, become the fastest aviator in the world with Leonardo DeCaprio, make offers no one can refuse, become kings of the world riding the crest of ocean waves, save the Private Ryan, hunt for lost treasures alongside Indiana Jones, survive the nightmares on the Elm Street, dance the salsa with Vanessa “The Sexy” Williams and get to serenade the most beautiful women. Ah, it couldn’t get any better. Long live the remote.

Interesting Travelogue

2007-09-23T20:19:00.000+05:30

Bawa, your stories are very interesting, but will be even more so if you embellished them with a few pictures.

A Wedding In Nandprayag

2007-09-23T09:19:00.000+05:30

In the first week of October we went to Nandpryag for a long awaited wedding. Nandpryag is a sleepy village situated in the Hill State of Uttranchal, 400 kms from Chandigarh. I love the hills and since it is also the ancestral place of my in laws I love it a little bit more, the classic lampooning of in laws notwithstanding. Although the distance can be covered in a day I always prefer to make it in two. One can savor the beauty of the journey and lazily relax en route. So off we went on our trip armed with loads of potato chips and cold drinks determined to demolish any eatery along the way.

Our first halt was the beautiful city located in the Doon valley, Dehradun, the capital of Uttranchal. An old city, it came into its own during the British rule that established a big cantonment here as also the West Point of India known as the Indian Military Academy. Many a war hero has commenced his career here. A sizable number of my wife's relatives are settled here so a stay here even for one night is punctuated with everyone descending on one house. The result is always a merry chaos with everyone trying to update ones knowledge of the family gossip. Food is cooked for everyone but is never eaten together because someone gets lost, another gets drunk and yet another is sulking in a corner. If a fight breaks out among the younger males the sisters take it on themselves to negotiate a Peace Accord. While some these major problems of the world are getting resolved it gets very late in the night and the food invariably gets cold. While the lesser mortals get to eat it cold the Son in Law who is primarily I gets it served piping hot !! Three cheers for the in laws!

The next morning we set out early. The road is on the plains till Rishikesh, which is about 35 kms away. Rishikesh incidentally is revered as one of the holiest cities of the Hindus. A few kilometers away is Hardwar, which has even greater religious significance. The devout believe that by bathing in the river Ganga, which flows through Hardwar, their place in heaven is assured. Also the ashes of the dead are brought here from all parts of India to be immersed in the water to assure a heavenly destination for the departed soul. The river Ganga is one of the biggest and the most important rivers of India. The Hindus attach religious significance to almost anything but an ancient river is something else altogether. An entire civilization has flourished with and around the waters of Ganga. In fact the political history of the North India revolves around what has been historically known as the Indo Gangetic Plain. The source of the river is from a melting glacier in the northern reaches of India called Gangotri from which the name of the river is derived. However the name Ganga catches on at a later stage. Initially it is known as the Alaknanda. It hurtles down the mountains till it reaches Vishnupryag where it merges with the first of its major tributaries called Dhauliganga. Almost 80 kilometers down at Nandpryag, where we were headed, it merges with Nandnakini. Another 25 kilometers downstream at Karanpryag it meets the Pinder River, after which it heads on to Rudrapryag where the merger with the river Manadkini takes place. The biggest tributary of Alaknanda is Bhagirathi and they merge at Deopryag. It is from this point onwards that the name Alaknanda ceases and the better-known Ganga is used. The word 'Pryag' literally means a conjunction of rivers as must be evident from the repeated usage above. From here the Ganga flows down to the plains traversing the entire north India from west to the east before flowing into the Bay of Bengal. The political, physical and the sociological history of the North India are closely connected to the Ganga. Whenever it has been benevolent fortune has smiled on the people living around it. In anger it has wrought untold havoc.

But deeply etched religious beliefs being what they are, the water of Ganga is considered pure capable of making miracles. Ganga Jal (water of Ganga) is stored in vessels, which are placed in the domestic and public shrines. It is considered auspicious to give a few of its drops to people in their last moments of life. It is affectionately called Ganga Maiyya (Mother Ganga) and parents lovingly christen their daughters after it.

The road from Rishikesh is completely in the hilly terrain and narrow so the carefree driving of the plains gives way to a watchful eye. Almost the entire stretch of road till Nandpryag and beyond is alongside the Ganga. It takes a conscious effort to keep ones eye on the road and miss the beauty surrounding it. The first stop is a place called Byasi literally meaning 'eighty two'. It's beyond me to figure out why it was named so. Probably someone was marking the distance and the name stuck. A cold drink and a light snack later we pushed off to face the increasing gradient. Thirty kilometers later and a few thousand feet higher comes Saknidhar. Dhar is colloquial for a hill stream. Quite a few of them abound there and the travelers, tired and often motion sickness struck are treated to cool and sweet water, harnessed by the enterprising locals through small pipes. My favorite snack here is fresh Cucumber with lemon and black salt accompanied with sweet and sour lemonade. So our journey continued till evening passing through all the Pryags. The first view of Nandpryag is a few kilometers before one reaches it. As it happens in the mountains the destination keeps flirting with you visually till you actually reach it. It has always been a treat to come to this place and now was no different. Three thousand feet above sea level it is a place, which is kept warm by the elements during the day and by hearts during the nights.

A word about my wife's family here. Four immediate sisters and a brother, five cousin sisters and a brother from her paternal uncle and the family tree continues unabashedly with uncles and aunts once or twice removed making their generous contributions to the tree now turned into a wild mushroom growth. I am not counting their progeny of course. And such a pot pourri of widely different individuals always makes my day. It's fun unlimited. So the moment our car reached the door we were greeted with screams of little and old kids streaming out of the threshold. My children returned the screaming welcome with equivalent gusto. In a magical moment the fatigue of the journey was forgotten. Our luggage was quickly unloaded and carted off to some room. Home is a forty-room structure built about eighty years ago, burnt down forty years ago and then lovingly rebuilt. In the classical hill fashion wood and stone has been extensively used. The intrinsic strength of the building and I suppose the prayers of all of us who love the place saved it from being razed to the ground in a massive earthquake two years ago although it rendered all but a dozen rooms unlivable. It is built on a hillside so we actually drive to the third floor level and then climb down by stairs. The elders were expectantly waiting. We touched their feet in reverence and got their blessings. After the mandatory wash and refreshment commences the social visit to all the homes of the relatives nearby. Loud greetings, embraces, complaints for having come after such a long time, polite inquiries about the well being of my parents, the account of the journey, the state of the road, it all happens at the same time. Since by this time the night is nascent the male folk get together and out comes a bottle of whiskey. A few drinks later, the mood and the knee joints lighter raucous laughter reverberates throughout. A sumptuous meal is followed by much needed sleep.

The girl who was to get married is the first cousin of my wife and figuring sixth and the youngest in the order of seniority of the children of her paternal uncle. Well, the girl was in early thirties when she got married because Mr. Right hadn't come along in time. But now that he had I am sure she'll make him pay for making her wait for so long. Poor chap!

At the time of a marriage Indian homes wear a festive look. The doors of the house are decorated with mango leaves (it's believed that they keep out the evil spirits) and the walls and the roof with bright colored lights. The fairer inmates of course fiercely compete with the glitter of the lights. One of my sisters-in-law is the champion in this game. She tries on at least six different dresses thrice a day before deciding which shall upstage the decoration as well as the rest of her sisters. Sometime she wins and at other times she thinks she has won. But regardless we always make the appropriate clucking noises indicating approval. Lovely lass, she is.

Unlike Christen weddings our marriages are a very elaborate affair. Long lists of invitees are prepared and repeatedly revised to take care that no friend or relative has been omitted. After the cards have been sent, letters and telephone remind the more important in the invitation list. A few days before the marriage other arrangements like preparation of sweets, purchase of provisions for preparing the wedding feast, erection of tents, accommodation for the bridegroom's entourage has to be ensured. All this is quite a massive project but in Nandpryag it takes place without a glitch and read on to find out why. One of the most beautiful things of a village marriage is community participation, which, alas, is slowly dying. Without any specific invitation the village folk take it on themselves to organize and delegate duties for the various tasks involved in a marriage. The first day in Nandpryag started with the whole village descending on our house. It was quickly decided who is to do what. Big cooking vessels appeared along with the needed tools and the preparation of the sweets was underway. This is one the most important and elaborate jobs since after the marriage is over not only the bridegroom's retinue but also all the house guests have to be loaded with sweets and other eatables to take home. So a few hundred odd kilos of stuff has to be prepared and no professional help is solicited. It is entirely an in house thing with of course a little help from friends.

The evening of the first day was reserved for song and dance, which is preformed entirely by the ladies of the house, young and old alike. It’s called 'Jagran' which means a wake. Traditionally when the boy of the house went out to get married all the women were left behind. So to ensure that no untoward happening takes place in the absence of the men, the women would get together and sing loud songs so that no enterprising thief should come near the house. However now irrespective of who is getting married a day before the marriage this kind of a get-together is a must. The women sing traditional and bawdy songs and everybody dances to their tune. The men join in as soon as they are tipsy enough not to say no. It's a treat to see the hill men dance. The arms sway in a slow and languorous motion and the feet twist and turn in rhythm with the accompaniment of soulful strains of the folk music of the hills. The sound echoes in the neighboring dark hills. It's an ethereal feeling.

The D-Day was here and it commenced with a flurry of expectancy and activity. The bridegroom was not expected till the evening but the air was rife with excitement. In the morning of the day of the marriage there is a symbolic bathing ceremony called 'Mangal Snan'. The bride to be is dressed in some old clothes and made to sit on low stool, which is strategically placed at a site decided by the family priest. This place is first decorated with intricate patterns made with various colored powders. Four young unmarried girls cover her head with a long red piece of cloth. First there is long chanting of verses from the ancient scriptures and then the all the married women gather around the girl and apply a paste made of ground turmeric mixed with milk and songs wishing her a happy marriage are sung in unison. This, being the first overt step towards marriage, is always a moving experience for everybody. Tears inevitably flow from the eyes of the girl and the rest of the women follow suit. Soon as if from nowhere the turmeric paste starts flying everywhere and the men folk are smattered with it. The sons in law of the family are the special targets and their sisters in law the main perpetrators. Everybody is colored yellow amongst loud protests and louder laughter.

At last darkness fell and the time of arrival of the bridegroom drew near. He was supposed to come from a place about 70 kilometers away, which in the best of conditions does not take more than two hours to cover. But no bridegroom worth his salt has ever arrived in time. The more he makes the girl's family wait the more important he thinks he is. So even though we were informed that the marriage party, which is called a 'Baraat' had left their home at around 4 p.m. there was no sign of them till 7.30 in the evening. Every now and then someone would shout 'they have come' and get everybody up and about before it turned out that the spotted vehicle wasn't destined for our house. The food was ready, the music was blaring, the women were dressed to kill, the kids were screaming and the poor bride was getting bored to death. At last the Man arrived dressed in a three-piece suit and his head adorned with a bright turban and his face covered with streams of shining gold paper called a 'Sehera'. He is not supposed to reveal his face before he confronts the bride to be. The elders of the house lined up to welcome the bridegroom and his entourage with folded hands and the women again burst into welcome songs. The priest rattles off another prayer welcoming the groom and by affixing a red dot with a colored powder on his forehead honors him. The somber welcome is always accompanied with a critical evaluation of the guests. The eagle eyed younger and the unmarried ones exchange furtive glances. Who is wearing what? Who is walking with the exaggerated swagger? Ah, that one is drunk! She is looking terrible! Why is the bridegroom giggling? Ooh, that sexy walk! The saner ones take care to see that the guests are made comfortable and immediately served with water and tea and some light snacks. They soon settle down. The elders exchange some serious notes while the younger lot goes about searching for soda and water as the long ride has made them thirsty and only some copious quantity of liquor can quench that. The young always enjoy the good things of life more.

Well, soon it was dinnertime. The guests are always served first. There was a long repertoire of dishes, which are the classical delicacies of the hills accompanied with a variety of sauces and rice and unleavened bread. And as mentioned earlier none of the food was ordered from outside. It was a delicious result of the labor of love. The food was attacked as soon as it was laid and very soon hassled waiters were running to and fro to keep the tables from emptying lest the guests go hungry. It was a small miracle that the hungry stomachs were filled without many complaints. The groom of course is separated from the crowd and a special plate is prepared for him laden with all the goodies and then some.
The poor guy ate in silence, silently suffering the teasing which is supposed to be
the done thing. A light-hearted jibing contest was also going on simultaneously between the groom's and the bride's friends, brothers and sisters. According to the Hindu customs it is the family priest cum astrologer who determines the auspicious time of the marriage ceremony, which invariably is at around 1 or 2 a.m. So the appointed hour arrived. The place where the marriage takes place is called 'Vedi'. It is like a four-poster bed without the bed. The poles are decorated with banana leaves and the canopy with marigold. On the floor underneath colored powders are used to decorate the area around the vessel in which fire is lit. First the bridegroom was called and asked to sit on the left. The prayers started and after a while entered the bride. Looking resplendent in red clothes and gold jewelry she shyly sat on the right side of the groom. Another round of prayers and a fire is lit in the vessel in front of them. Since ancient times fire is regarded as the purest of elements for it destroys all impurities. So it is with the fire in witness that couples are betrothed to each other. A cloth is tied to the clothes of the married to be duo and with the chant of scriptures they make offerings of clarified butter and herbs to the fire and circle it seven times. After this they are considered married. Everybody throws flower petals, which signify blessings, on them. The bride and the groom then exchange seats with the bride now on the left. This is supposed to be her place by the husband throughout her life. The priest then explains the duties and responsibilities, which the marriage entails for the couple. Both dutifully listen to this and they make their vows to follow them. By the time this was over everybody except the couple and priest were yawning to high sky and falling over each other. The bride was spirited off to her room and the groom to another. They can be together only at the groom's home.

Next morning after a breakfast of deep fried bread and a spicy potato curry the grooms 'Baraat' got ready to go back. Just before the bride is sent off another ceremony is preformed. It is called 'Gai Daan' meaning the gift of a cow. This is again an ancient practice. Cows have always been considered sacred by the Hindus and hence valuable and anything sacred is worshipped. So the gift of a cow was considered the ultimate in the times when it was considered a holy currency. Now the actual gift is not made but the symbolism continues to honor the departing guest. The luggage of the bride was loaded on to the jeeps. She came out of the room, presumably full of apprehensions and the awareness of the impending loss of her protected and carefree life, the prospect of leaving the familiar surroundings, which had been with her for more than three decades. Indians are terribly sentimental and everyone has a decent cry when the bride departs. When she left a sense of loss engulfed all of us.

Marriages are always a bit of an anti climax. Everything builds up to a crescendo and then comes down with a crash when it is all over. The winding up, the cleaning up, payment of bills etc are always a bit of a pain. Of course the favorite son in law has no part to play in this so he relaxes. In the evening a large pot of mutton curry was prepared. And while it was being prepared all the men got together and got roaring drunk. The volume of conversation rose proportionately with every drink that was consumed. A fight broke out, another burst into tears and everybody fell on each other swearing undying love. We just about managed to have the mutton and rice for dinner and crashed to a deep slumber.

The day of leaving Nandpryag is always the day after the one on which we had decided to go. With much reluctance we packed our bags and set on our journey home after a fun filled week's holiday.

Goa-Paradise Regained

2007-09-23T09:16:00.000+05:30

On the 29 Th Dec 2003 we beat the clock to reach Cochin airport on time only to find that the flight was delayed by an hour. So we waited and waited…it was tough as the anticipation of reaching Goa was strong and any delay was brooked with irritation and boredom. Any way the time passed, the plane arrived and off we went to paradise. I am not exaggerating but Goa was an experience to be cherished. Most of the flight was over the sea, which was uneventful, and we landed an hour later. My brother in law was there to receive us. And an hour’s drive later we were home where all the gang was waiting for us. The gang consists of my wife’s three sisters, their husbands and their brood. So the weeklong party commenced.
Goa has some of the finest beaches ever but that isn’t all there is to it. It is the ambience of the place, the people, the lifestyle, and the tourists which contributes towards making it an unforgettable experience. The Portuguese influence in the architecture and cuisine is obvious but the locals have a history of their own. The place was under the influence of the Muslim rulers and later the Maratha chieftains. In the 15th century St Francis landed here with his message of Christianity and through a long drawn process of proselytism managed to win numerous converts starting a change in the sociological character of the people. Some years later the Portuguese occupied the territory defeating the local kings and thus commenced the longest episode of foreign rule in a part of India ending with the police action in 1960 which has been captured in the movie Saat Hindustani, Amitabh Bachhan’s first foray in to cinema. With that bit of trivia I shall stop my History lesson.

On the first night we went to a place called the Vaga beach, which is supposed to be a most happening place. The beach dhabas or the shacks as they are popularly known proliferate all over the coastline and we went to a place called St Anthony’s. Fish being the preferred food, we did in Goa as Goans do. An Englishman was on the mike with a guitar and belting out old numbers of Don McLean, Jim Morrison and Mark Knoffler. Listening to soulful music with the sounds of sea waves and some good wine under the belt is always an ethereal experience.

I woke up the next day to venture forth in my expedition to the paradise. The first task of the day was to prepare a massive breakfast for the full troupe of tourists, a task in which I acquitted myself reasonably well as was evident from the low level of grunts from an otherwise vocal and critical crowd. The first hurdle of the day over, we climbed into our vehicles and headed south of Goa to the Ottoda beach. What distinguishes this place from other beaches is that the tourists less frequent this place.

Swimming in the sea is something I love! Looking into the water while swimming gives you a feeling of anonymity as well as the realization of the puniness of the individual existence in the face of the might of the nature’s forces. A good swim always makes one hungry. So after a big lunch of fish curry and rice, a nice sleep on the beach was just what the Doctor ordered. After the siesta the sand was washed off the hair and trunks and we trudged back home, a cool hour’s drive away.

Another day and another beach and this time it was the most happening beach of Goa. It’s called the Baga beach. It’s between the otherwise better-known beaches of Anjuna and Calengute. Nowadays however the daytime action is always on the Baga. There are the omnipresent shacks with their variety of seafood on offer but what one goes looking for there are the water sport facilities. Para gliding, water scooters, skiing, powerboat rides and what have you. It started raining when we reached the beach so what could we poor souls do except wait under a shack mournfully ordering one feni after another. The rain stopped before our heads started swimming and bravely I stepped forward to pay for my ticket for Para Sailing. Twelve hundred bucks lighter I could have flown without any assistance anyway! Unfortunately or fortunately someone started fighting with the ticket chap and all of us ticket holders raved & ranted about the delay caused and how we were so short of time and what has the world come to, so every body decided to go in for a refund. The money back in my pocket I came back to the shack to join the others in enjoying the good things of life.

Well, on to the saga of the beaches. You must have heard of the Anjuna beach. It was famous for its cluster of hippies during the days of the flower power and most popular among the desi tourists as the chances of spotting the nude white woman were the brightest here. The nudies are no longer there so apart from the must do visit the tourists steer clear of this place. The neo hippies are however still found and often you can smell the whiff of dope smoke. We reached this place in the evening when the sun was about to set. The sky was clear so the interplay of colors on the water orchestrated by the setting of the sun mesmerized me. Bright shades of orange turned into golden hues as the sun embarked on its journey to the bottom of the sea. As a child I often wondered if it came out from the other side still intact and unaffected by the water. Happily as it turned out the sun still shines bright. There may be an eclipse every now and then but it goes on. Isn’t that how life is supposed to be? Life on the Anjuna, however, changes by the evening. There is this massive shack; I forget the name, which houses a monstrous music system. It was playing some continuous techno music, which was driving an estimated crowd of over a thousand foreigners crazy into a foot tapping throng of dancers. The ambience was irresistible and the feet start obeying autosuggestion of the music.

The last of the famous beaches is the Calengute. The name is derived from a village, which has now grown into a small township. Essentially a fisherman’s village it used to be the hub of the social activity even in the days gone by. However the evenings used to be relatively quiet except for the loud groans of the perennially inebriated or the hushed gasps of frantic lovers lurking amongst the harbored boats and fishing nets. Tourism and the inevitable developmental growth has now robbed the village of its laid back demeanor and replaced it with the omnipresent commercialism.

Out to make a quick buck the place is sprawled with shops of sundry items costing a dime but sold for a small fortune to the unsuspecting foreigners. Of course there is no dearth of gullible Indians falling in the same trap. However the place still wears a colorful look and ironically the people who make it so are the pale faces of the west. What they lack in skin color they make up with their zest for life. Everybody hires two wheelers, Kinetic Honda being the preferred vehicle, and zips around everywhere, soaking in the sun and caressing the ocean breeze. The apparel they support is a tribute to comfort unlike the bashful & coy natives who spend half the time meant for enjoying in smoothing the creases of sarees & trousers. It’s the combination of all such people which keeps Calungute pulsating at all times.

The beaches of Goa acquire a new dimension on the New Year's Eve. In fact the whole Goa does. My celebration of the day started early. No sooner had I settled into a comfortable reclining chair than the owner of the shack inquiring about my plans for the evening accosted me. As it turned out every shack owner in the vicinity had something lined up for the New Year's Eve and was actively soliciting prospective customers. We had already planned to go to a casino in the evening followed by dinner. The day passed quickly and all of us set out to paint the town red. The casino owned by an NRI dentist is in Panjim and aptly named 'Chances'. Well, we took ours and came out none
the worse. No fortune was won or lost. From there we trudged on to a discotheque, which for everyone turned out to be a bit of a disappointment. It was a totally stag affair. I couldn't care less and merrily danced my heart out. After sweating for about an hour we settled for a leisurely meal. By then my old bones were protesting against the daylong torture I had subjected them to and prodding me to call it a day. I yielded to their demand and went off to sleep and woke up to the first day of the millenium.

Goa and no mention of churches!! One third of the Goan population is Catholic, so over the years egged on by the Portuguese resources and the natural Christian enthusiasm scores of churches dot the landscape of Goa. The older ones are more majestic and graceful to behold. The Basilica Bom De Jesus literally meaning the place of the infant Christ occupies the place of pride amongst all the churches. It is here that the mortal and embalmed remains of St Francis are still preserved in a silver casket, which is perched atop a tall pedestal. The casket is brought down every ten years and a multitude of humanity converges for a glimpse of the revered Saint. Since our visit was a few years early we were denied the privilege.

Right opposite is the Se Cathedral, which built in the 1st quarter of the 17th century houses the statute of St Catherine among beautifully crafted golden panels. It’s from the main gate here that Sir Francis Albuquerque; the conqueror of Goa is reputed to have made his triumphant entry. Goa incidentally is short for Gomantak, which was the ancient name of the place.
Another beautiful church is the St Andrews, which is situated in the main market of Panjim. It’s a familiar sight because of its depiction in a number of Bollywood movies. From there on Donna Paula was the next place on the itinerary. Donna Paula is to Goa what Romeo and Juliet are to rest of the world. And these two also met the same fate reserved for all legendary lovers. The point from where the two jumped into the sea now has a memorial overlooking what is perhaps the most unclean part of Goa. On another side of this place is where water scooters are available for the interested. We had our lovely rides while my vertigo prone wife waved to us from the safe confines of the pier.

A few kilometers from Panjim is the Aguada fort perched on the top of a hill, to reach where one has to drive through meandering hilly roads. In the days yonder this place made fresh water available to the passing ships. An old lighthouse, which is still functional, warned the approaching vessels of the land ahead. Today a part of the fort has been converted into a prison, where as the local grapevine says, the favorite pastime of the inmates is to periodically and successfully escape eluding the sleeping guards.
There are many places of Goa, which I missed but that shall not remain so for long. The people I met and the places I saw have left an indelible impression on me, which has only whetted my appetite. My short visit has simply left me craving for more and ever indulgent to my whims and desires that I am I shall return to the place I have come to love, Amen.

Kerala- My Sojourn To God's Own Country

2007-09-23T09:15:00.000+05:30

In the winter of 2000 we spent our holidays in Kerala & Goa. We started off by driving to Delhi and spending the better part of the next day in the flea market of Sarojni Nagar hunting for casual clothes and some serious chat and golgappa time. The early morning flight to Trivendrum was commanded by my first cousin. As a result we were transferred to the business class and soon we were enjoying all the goodies denied to lesser mortals. The real thrill was spending the better part of the flight in the cockpit and watching the clouds change their hues and colors. From the cockpit the experience of take off and landing is really unique. After the four hour flight we arrived at Trivendrum where another cousin of my mine who is a Doctor in the Air Force, was waiting to pick us up. Oh yes, from the air Trivendrum looks like an enormous coconut grove. One can barely see the city. Coconut being an essential ingredient of the staple diet, every house has at least four trees. The first evening in Kerala was spent on the Kovalam beach where of course the kids went mad in the water and I went mad looking at the variety of the seafood on the offer. There are these dozens of sophisticated dhabas called shacks that put various kind of raw seafood on display. One can choose what one wants to eat and the same is prepared before you. I chose to have a Kingfish grilled. Prepared with the fiery Keralite masala it was a mega hit.

The next morning we went to the Padmanabhaswami temple which houses the reclining Vishnu and is said to have been erected in the first years of the
Kaliyug. That’s 5000 years for you. I am sure the carbon dating tests do not match up to the claim but the thought of standing in a building that old is nice and humbling. The fact however is that the construction of the present
building is approximately a thousand years old and was made with the help of Chinese workmen. Their influence is unmistakable in the sculpture. The most remarkable feature was the floor, which is made of vegetable dyes and egg white and feels like soft rubber. The main entrance of the temple, which is called the gopuram, is entirely made of powdered sea shells and featured with incidents of Hindu mythology in paintings as well as sculpture.

Kanyakumari was next on the tour plan. We started early, which means as early as 10 in the morning, what with the kids screaming, the lunch getting packed and general chaos all around. Great fun nevertheless! So off we went in the Sumo we had hired. No sooner had we crossed the city that it started raining. Amidst the traffic there was a sudden screeching of brakes and an auto rickshaw rammed into the back of our Sumo. We got down and confronted a sheepish looking Keralite fellow. Unable to speak Malyalam I gestured with my hands’ Kya hua’. The fellow just stuck out his tongue and smiled and the matter ended there as there was not much damage to either of the vehicles.

The road to Kanyakumari is specked with small villages and towns which one keeps crossing with such frequency that one never really gets the feeling of being on a highway. The empty spaces are lush green in the classic Kerala style. Of course the cloudy day made the journey pleasurable. Our first stop

was Padmanabhapuram, the capital of the Travancore kings. The present lineage is of the Verma royalty. The Keralite family system is matriarchal. Hence the King (poor chap) is not allowed to marry. But he can have as many concubines as he wants (lucky dog). So it is the son of the sister who succeeds the King and the sister is regarded as the Queen. The palace of the King at Padmanabhapuram is different from the opulent variety of the north. It is the grandeur of exquisite wood craftsmanship, which captures the eye. The floors of some of the rooms have been made as I explained earlier. Even the bed of the King is made from some kind of wooden contraption having medicinal properties. The tour of the palace over we had a quick lunch of aloo poories and departed for Kanyakumari.

I had been to Kanyakumari once before in 1984, during one of the training courses while under probation in the Bank. In 16 years the face of the place has changed beyond recognition. What was once a laid back place lazily receptive to curious visitors has now become a concrete monster dotted with street smart vendors of curios at every step of the way. We quickly made our way to the ferry that takes one to the island of Rock Memorial, where Swami Vivekanand is reputed to have meditated at one time. Right next to it is another island where a massive statue of the Tamil poet Perivayoor( I hope I got the name right) has been erected. The Rock Memorial has lost some of its exclusivity after the statue’s installation. The quick pilgrimage over we headed back to Trivendrum. A few kilometers away is a place called Suchindran, which as per legend was rediscovered about 500 years ago. It houses a unique multi deity temple. The triumvirate of the Hindu gods is represented by a single figure of stone. There is also an eighteen feet high statue of Hanuman, which the devout cover, with offerings of fresh butter and betel leaves. There is another temple where it is believed that the God of Rain, Indra comes every night to take a bath. Why he needs to bathe at night puzzles me? Probably the daytime water availability is poor.
The piece-de-resistance however are the pillars outside the sanctum sanctorum. Carved out of single blocks of stones these pillars are a combination of smaller pillars, which are hollow from the inside. On beating them one by one the seven basic musical notes can be distinctively heard. On another set it is the different sounds of drums. We were in time for the Aarti so we stayed back. They had this mechanical contraption which when turned on played the drum and cymbals together to a pre determined rhythm. It was an effective accompaniment to the Vedic chants of the black clad priests and the blaring of conches and pipes. The experience is deeply moving. We went back to Trivendrum merrily playing Antakshri aided with much needed beer.

As per our original plan we were supposed to fly to Cochin but wiser counsel prevailed and we decided to drive the 500 kms from Trivendrum covering Kerala at a stretch. As it turned out it was terrific choice, thanks to my cousin’s insistence. The first stop was a Place called Varkala Beach. Well,

one has to go up a cliff before going down a rocky path to the sea. The wind ruffles your hair and makes those crazy sounds and one has a beautiful view of the sea stretching for endless miles. Calm and serene… remember the movie “EK DOOJE KE LIYE”. The last scene where the star-crossed lovers die falling from the rocks. Well this place was something like that … only I did not slip. From there we went onwards about 15 kilometers down road and arrived at a fishermen’s village be the sea side. There was a small restaurant where we decided to eat. Since we were the probably the first customers in the past few weeks the Matre De grandly announced that the table will be set in about an hours time. Hunger taking precedence over anger we politely asked him if a boat could be rented to cover the backwaters (Backwater incidentally is seawater locked by land due to breaches in the coast or high tide spilling water overland). The Matre De regally told us that that was just what he had in mind. He blew a whistle and Lo & Behold a long boat arrived to take the hungry souls on an hour-long trip. I suspect these guys had an arrangement where he would calmly delay the arrival if the food was not ready in the allotted time. Anyway the backwater experience was not bad at all. This particular place was full of the Portuguese Man of War, which for the uninitiated is a jellyfish. It’s a poisonous creature but beautiful to look at, just like half of the fairer sex. So everybody merrily sang and got photographed and tried to forget the hunger pangs. The hour passed quickly, the Matre De took pity, the boat returned and the ravenous group attacked the food and took no prisoners. The chicken, Dosas, Rice etc. vanished at an alarming rate. The Matre De wore a harried look and was panting, running to and fro from the kitchen. Served him right! From there to Cochin was a long ride between the lush palm trees and green, green, green all around. The place gets to you. We reached Cochin late in the evening. Arrangements for our stay had made in the mess in the Southern Naval Command HQS. So everybody crashed after a leisurely Chinese Meal where a lobster was added to my considerable gastronomic repertoire. The next morning we quickly took a round of Cochin, which included a high seas ride to an island where in solitary glory, is the Buggati Palace. This place was built in the 18th Century by a Dutch trader and later taken over by the British who used it as the Residency till independence. It's being restored to its former glory and then would be used as a Hotel.

On the 29 Th Dec we beat the clock to reach Cochin airport on time only to find that the flight was delayed by an hour. So we waited and waited…it was tough as the anticipation of reaching Goa was strong and any delay was brooked with irritation and boredom. Any way the time passed, the plane arrived and off we went to paradise. But more of that later.

Movie Review-RGV'S Aag

2007-09-22T21:17:00.000+05:30


Powered by: Chakpak.com	Ram Gopal Varma ki Aag

Lets get this straight, I am a Ram Gopal Verma fan. His movies are slick, interesting and gripping. But this time it is none of the above. It was always an uphill task to live up to the rep of Sholay but our man Verma didn't even put up a decent fight.
Let's start with the basics. The entire ensemble of actors is miscast. Every one in the movie should have been doing someone else's role or none at all. Devgun is a weak Veeru ( His take on the Dharam's sharabi scene on the water tank is rank terrible. In any case he has walked thru the movie like a zombie). Who the hell is this Prashant Raj a-la Jai? The man's only USP is his height. The rest is nothing to write home about. The portly Mohan Lal lives the role of an overfed, over nourished Thakur/Narsimhan. I am sure the dosa shop in the neighborhood did roaring business during the shooting. The poor fella must have been so tired by the end of his gastronomic adventures that his dialogue delivery is worse than a literary recitation by a 5 year old. Nisha Kothari looks cute but then I have always been partial to Pahari women aur woh bhi Uttarakhandi, so you guys can form your own opinion. She did chatter dime a dozen but Hema bhabi ki yaad bahut ayee. Finally the Boss. Mr Bachhan after 40 odd years in cinema ought to learn that hanging his mouth like a lap dog and giving blank looks of his forest pool eyes is not necessarily good acting. I thought that his cub in his now-I-am-here and now-I am-gone did a better job in his two minute special appearance. Sushmita has always been, was in this movie and will always be outstanding. Sush baby I dig ya.
The good news is not because of Verma ji but despite him. Occasionally you are transported back to the good ol 70s Sholay by the background music, hints of the original dialogues (Holi, kab hai holi…..only this time it is Diwali). All in all ladies and gentlemen watch it for the curiosity factor and for a subject matter for bitching all Sunday afternoon before or after the beer and bar-b-cue.

Movie review-The Bourne Trilogy

2007-09-22T21:10:00.000+05:30

The Bourne Trilogy

A certain Madam Revamp of the Chicago Random House had commissioned me to write the review of The Bourne Ultimatum but the same wasn't possible without refreshing my memory of the first movie of the series and having actually seen the second one. (For the cinematically challenged it ought to be clarified that The Bourne Identity was released in 2002 followed by The Bourne Supremacy in 2004 and the latest, The Bourne Ultimatum in the current year). Now I had missed the 2 nd one when it was released in Chandigarh and the 3rd one hasn't been released here yet. So I committed the cyber crime of downloading both the movies from a P2P network and watched them in succession.

Each movie can be seen in isolation and enjoyed which good moviemakers aspire to achieve. The action is high voltage, relentless and breathtaking. The 2 nd & 3rd are however similar and at times repetitive in this respect. At times it looks more like the action director's baby than anything else. Its made to look believable so can be enjoyed by all movie buffs. Now this is where the purist in me starts flapping his wings. Apart from the opening sequence of Jason Bourne's retrieval from the sea in a shot up, half dead state the story doesn't even bear a passing resemblance to the book series. So guys like me who read the Robert Ludlum classics in their college days have a problem. The emotional trauma of an amnesic who suspects that he is an assassin is missing. The hero of the books is constantly at war with what he doesn't want to be and what he instinctively is. I still remember the Korean war cry "Che Saw" which JB utters in the first unarmed combat.

The books carried the romance of the world of espionage in the era of cold war. "Carlos The Jackal" evoked awe and inspired guys like Ludlum to weave spellbinding stories around him. But Gorbochov played spoilsport and broke up The Evil Empire. Illych Ramírez Sánchez aka Carlos lost his steam and got arrested by the French. Therefore it's understandable that in the current context the original story may not receive cinematic acceptance by the audience. The motives of Carlos and the importance of his capture would simply be lost on the MTV generation. So instead of unraveling the intricacies of global espionage of the 70s, now it's a greedy Russian oil billionaire who is to be neutralized.

The love story of Bourne and Marie St Jacques also never really takes off. They are constantly on the run in the first two movies and the lady is conveniently bumped off in the beginning of the third. No titillating scenes which is good but no emotional development of the love interest which is disappointing. Just raw, heart thumping action. Great to watch but I will not remember the movies after sometime.

TRIVIA

The Bourne Identity was rated as the second greatest spy novel.
Two of the greatest fictional undercover agents James Bond and Jason Bourne share the same initials. Coincidence??
The 1987 Tamil movie Vetri Vizha starring Kamal Haasan is a loose adaptation of the Bourne Identity.

A recommended watch is "The Assignment" featuring Aidan Quinn and Donald Sutherland (one of my favorite actors). It's about the mission of a CIA operative trained to capture Carlos. Watch it for all the things I missed in the Bourne series.