I always knew driving in India was tough. Heck, walking in India is tough and involves instances where your entire life flashes before your eyes pretty often. Driving though goes to the next plane. One of the reasons is that as a car driver you are in the exclusive position of being the Loser in every possible accident situation.
Let us take the possible range of things/people you can collide with. The first in the category of ‘victims’ are pedestrians. Pedestrians in India do not believe in using the footpath. 'When there is a perfectly good road available, why can't I use it?' is the logic used by most. Not surprisingly, over time, footpaths have come to serve as places where electric transformers, phone boxes, roadside peddlers, snack vendors, beggars etc co-exist peacefully. Of course, pedestrians point out that the cause-effect relationship is the other way round and the reason they don’t use footpaths is on account of the impediments scattered around. I say, show me a pedestrian who uses footpaths in India and I will show you a man who has not lived in India long enough. Pedestrians also do not believe in zebra crossings, preferring to dart across the road when they spot their destination. That this may cause an oncoming vehicle to swerve suddenly and crash into a building and kill ten people is not of much consequence.
The next category closely competing with pedestrians are two wheelers and three wheelers. They follow a variation of Parkinson's laws - motorists will fill up any available space on a road. This involves making instant calculations on whether the motor bike's entire width is less than the 1.5 feet available between a bus and a truck on the road. More often than not, these calculations are precise to a millimeter. The 'not' is when problems arise.
With both pedestrians and smaller vehicles, the forgone conclusion is that you are a Goliath pelting Davids all over the place with your big bad capitalist attitude. The assumption is that if you are driving a car, you must be rich and have the attitude of a big bad capitalist. So the public sides against you, you pay whatever money is needed to settle the issue and worry if your EMI payment on the car was less than that.
At the opposite end of the spectrum are buses. The most dangerous of this lot are the public transport buses called CTCs. They are usually huge, look extremely unbalanced from years of carrying too many people and are stuffed with most of India's 1 billion population. When a man knows that he is the lifeline to ease the city's transportation problem, he drives at a level 8 ft from the ground and is a government servant, he does not quite care if he dents a couple of car bumpers a day. Even during my driving lessons, I had put down CTC bus drivers as mean and unpredictable and driving next to one as the worst situation a car driver can face. At that point, however I had not seen one CTC bus overtaking another. This scene is somewhat like watching King Kong stomping through New York - beautiful but terrible.
Imagine a narrow road, which has two lanes. Now imagine a bus stop where one CTC bus is parked. The next one approaches from behind. Seeing the earlier bus, the CTC driver quickly calculates that he will have to trail behind all along the length of the entire narrow road. A thought that clearly causes intolerable grief. So even while the last passenger is boarding, the second CTC bus lurches in a 45 degree angle, powers full thrust ahead and regally overtakes the first one. You can usually smell the burning tyres of vehicles that had to brake suddenly to avoid close contact with a lurching bus. I have sometimes pulled over to admire this wonderful sight. That is infact the only way to handle the situation. If you are stupid enough to be hit by a bus, don't bother arguing with the driver for justice. He can scrunch you up like a little insect and still get away with it.
So clearly car drivers are at the bottom of the food chain. Why do we still drive? Most people, I think, love the challenge of seeing if they can get to work alive everyday. After that, anything that assails you at work can only be better. As for me - I can't think of a better place to sing aloud without inviting widespread abuse.
By,
Anita B.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Thursday, March 30, 2006
The Glory Days
Anita watches Maine Pyaar Kiya to relive the eighties and to provide feminist social commentary on Indian culture from the eighties, and also to comment on Juhi Chawla's cooking skills. When my friend Rahul and I get together, one of the things we end up doing is singing. We sing Indian TV ads from the eighties and nineties. Mostly eighties. What's the relation with the first sentence? Editor to please help.
Vimal washing powder: Babuji, kahaan chale (toing toing toing toing toing toing toing toing), kapade kyun hain maile dhule? Used to be the fellow who was later in Hum Log -- possibly concurrently in Hum log -- then later released a music album, that flopped.
Lifebuoy: Tandurusti ki raksha kartaa hai lifebuoy! Kollu Gautam Krishna, who was later at IITB and went to the same high school as yours truly, was the one behind the outgoing 12th grade class's rendition of the Lifebuoy theme song at the graduation party at Atomic Energy Junior College in 1990. The principal was livid.
Nirma! Washing powder Nirma! Dudh si safedi, ... Used to be Sangeeta Bijlani in this ad.
Prestige: Jo biwi se kare pyaar, woh Prestige se kaise kare inkaar? The funny thing about this is that Prestige pressure cookers are actually unsafe, since the lid clamps down on the vessel from outside. The pressure build up will cause the lid to open, whereas in the Hawkins design the pressure forces the lid shut.
Hawkins! Hawkins ki seeti bajee ... With Neena Gupta. Who was in the other great soap opera, Buniyaad. No wait, I'm thinking of Sonia Razdan. But Neena Gupta definitely released a music album. Which was on MTV. Which flopped (album, not MTV).
Bulbs and tubes: This had the fellow who played Shikhandi in Mahabharat on TV. Speaking of which, anyone remember the controversy over Arun Govil (who played Ram in Ramayan) having visible vaccination marks on his arms while in the garb of Ram? So much for authenticity. And don't get me started on the arrows.
Lijjat papad: Eh henh hainh, eh henh hainh. With that ventriloquist dummy. From the indomitable members of Mahila Gram Udyog.
Maggi Hot and Sweet Tomato Chilli Sauce. It's different. Sir, you're a genius. Shut up, Kitty! With Pankaj Kapur of Karamchand (which my mum and dad never let me watch), and lady who played Kitty in Karamchand. Many variants. I seem to recall Ajith was in one of them. Or an Ajith impersonator.
Yes, we're a sad bunch, Rahul and I. These ads are a remarkable picture of pop culture (or what passed for it). Middle class sensibilities and the like. (As an aside: With all the MBAs that read this blog, is there anyone -- maybe in marketing at the firms that made these ads -- who can get me videos of these ads? Here in the US there are websites devoted to classic TV ads. I would love to setup a website devoted to Indian ads.)
Then there's Thums Up. I sing the Thums Up ad. Remember going to theatres for a movie, and the fellow running on a dusty track, with Gary Lawyer singing, "Because you're the best! Better than all the rest! You gotta taste the thunder! Thums Up! Taste the thunder!" After watching that I always went to the lobby during the interval and got me a Thums Up. Even today Coke and Pepsi cannot compete with it -- that extra jolt of caffeine will get you through the day and night, no problem. In fact, I brought it to work and gave some Amreekis a taste of the good stuff. They could see why it has remained the favorite drink of tired farmers and office workers everywhere in India -- one of them couldn't sleep the night. (I haven't revisited Thums Up and rum since my days as an undergraduate, though. Hmmm. Time to give the visiting in-laws a taste of undergraduate life, eh?)
The Pepsi ad, I never quite liked. Hearing Kapil Dev going, "Yehi hai right choice, baybeeee!" was just not on. The other Pepsi ad (their first one), with Juhi Chawla and Remo, which premiered with much hype, was much better. Kapil was much better at Palmolive (Palmolive da jawaab nahin!). Fellow goes to the echo point in a mountain range and shouts "Sakura!" The echo says "Konica!" (since Sakura became Konica). Fellow shouts "Palmolive," and there's no echo. Why? Because Palmolive da jawaab nahin.
The Amul ads were the best of all. I think there's a book of them someplace. "Krishnan makes Masur ki daal."
Singing ads is not all I do to recapture my youth. Staying up late -- till 3 or 4 in the morning on the weekends (so as to not disrupt work), and watching TV. Sadly, other than reruns of Saturday Night Live, the only thing running then are ads for Jack LaLanne's juicer, the Ab Cruncher, the BowFlex machine (with Chuck Norris), the vacuum food saver, Ron Popeil with God knows what. So I try to find something to read. But usually there's nothing new, so I go downstairs to the kitchen, and cook up some Maggi (2-minute) Masala Noodles that I buy from the local desi grocery, or Top Ramen Curry Smoodles (that I also buy from the local desi grocery). However, now that they've started putting nutrition facts on the packages, the noodles aren't as appetizing.
Anyone remember the truly horrible Maggi Chaat Noodles and Maggi Milk Noodles? The milk noodles were especially yucky. Milk flavored noodles. What will they think of next?
This documentation is due to:
1. Realizing Sachin's career is getting over (I think I talked about this elsewhere -- Jhen please to link (Yes, Sir. http://entropymuse.blogspot.com/2006/02/personal-records.html)).
2. Turning 30.
3. Birth of first child.
4. Birth of second child.
5. Approaching 31. (In other words, I'm younger than Jhen.)
6. In-laws visiting for second child and hearing tales of father-in-law's youth.
7. Grey hairs accompanied the birth of the second heir.
8. Black-and-white film that I used for the past 2-3 months, just for the heck of it.
9. Ten years ago, I could polish off entire bottles of booze and wake up fresh as a daisy. Not anymore.
10. Having to shop for a minivan to transport kids, self, wife, in-laws/parents (whoever is visiting). No more dreams of a Toyota Prius. (Yes, I'm a liberal. Get over it.) Next car will of course be for my mid-life crisis. Probably a used Porsche Boxter.
By,
Speck 42
Vimal washing powder: Babuji, kahaan chale (toing toing toing toing toing toing toing toing), kapade kyun hain maile dhule? Used to be the fellow who was later in Hum Log -- possibly concurrently in Hum log -- then later released a music album, that flopped.
Lifebuoy: Tandurusti ki raksha kartaa hai lifebuoy! Kollu Gautam Krishna, who was later at IITB and went to the same high school as yours truly, was the one behind the outgoing 12th grade class's rendition of the Lifebuoy theme song at the graduation party at Atomic Energy Junior College in 1990. The principal was livid.
Nirma! Washing powder Nirma! Dudh si safedi, ... Used to be Sangeeta Bijlani in this ad.
Prestige: Jo biwi se kare pyaar, woh Prestige se kaise kare inkaar? The funny thing about this is that Prestige pressure cookers are actually unsafe, since the lid clamps down on the vessel from outside. The pressure build up will cause the lid to open, whereas in the Hawkins design the pressure forces the lid shut.
Hawkins! Hawkins ki seeti bajee ... With Neena Gupta. Who was in the other great soap opera, Buniyaad. No wait, I'm thinking of Sonia Razdan. But Neena Gupta definitely released a music album. Which was on MTV. Which flopped (album, not MTV).
Bulbs and tubes: This had the fellow who played Shikhandi in Mahabharat on TV. Speaking of which, anyone remember the controversy over Arun Govil (who played Ram in Ramayan) having visible vaccination marks on his arms while in the garb of Ram? So much for authenticity. And don't get me started on the arrows.
Lijjat papad: Eh henh hainh, eh henh hainh. With that ventriloquist dummy. From the indomitable members of Mahila Gram Udyog.
Maggi Hot and Sweet Tomato Chilli Sauce. It's different. Sir, you're a genius. Shut up, Kitty! With Pankaj Kapur of Karamchand (which my mum and dad never let me watch), and lady who played Kitty in Karamchand. Many variants. I seem to recall Ajith was in one of them. Or an Ajith impersonator.
Yes, we're a sad bunch, Rahul and I. These ads are a remarkable picture of pop culture (or what passed for it). Middle class sensibilities and the like. (As an aside: With all the MBAs that read this blog, is there anyone -- maybe in marketing at the firms that made these ads -- who can get me videos of these ads? Here in the US there are websites devoted to classic TV ads. I would love to setup a website devoted to Indian ads.)
Then there's Thums Up. I sing the Thums Up ad. Remember going to theatres for a movie, and the fellow running on a dusty track, with Gary Lawyer singing, "Because you're the best! Better than all the rest! You gotta taste the thunder! Thums Up! Taste the thunder!" After watching that I always went to the lobby during the interval and got me a Thums Up. Even today Coke and Pepsi cannot compete with it -- that extra jolt of caffeine will get you through the day and night, no problem. In fact, I brought it to work and gave some Amreekis a taste of the good stuff. They could see why it has remained the favorite drink of tired farmers and office workers everywhere in India -- one of them couldn't sleep the night. (I haven't revisited Thums Up and rum since my days as an undergraduate, though. Hmmm. Time to give the visiting in-laws a taste of undergraduate life, eh?)
The Pepsi ad, I never quite liked. Hearing Kapil Dev going, "Yehi hai right choice, baybeeee!" was just not on. The other Pepsi ad (their first one), with Juhi Chawla and Remo, which premiered with much hype, was much better. Kapil was much better at Palmolive (Palmolive da jawaab nahin!). Fellow goes to the echo point in a mountain range and shouts "Sakura!" The echo says "Konica!" (since Sakura became Konica). Fellow shouts "Palmolive," and there's no echo. Why? Because Palmolive da jawaab nahin.
The Amul ads were the best of all. I think there's a book of them someplace. "Krishnan makes Masur ki daal."
Singing ads is not all I do to recapture my youth. Staying up late -- till 3 or 4 in the morning on the weekends (so as to not disrupt work), and watching TV. Sadly, other than reruns of Saturday Night Live, the only thing running then are ads for Jack LaLanne's juicer, the Ab Cruncher, the BowFlex machine (with Chuck Norris), the vacuum food saver, Ron Popeil with God knows what. So I try to find something to read. But usually there's nothing new, so I go downstairs to the kitchen, and cook up some Maggi (2-minute) Masala Noodles that I buy from the local desi grocery, or Top Ramen Curry Smoodles (that I also buy from the local desi grocery). However, now that they've started putting nutrition facts on the packages, the noodles aren't as appetizing.
Anyone remember the truly horrible Maggi Chaat Noodles and Maggi Milk Noodles? The milk noodles were especially yucky. Milk flavored noodles. What will they think of next?
This documentation is due to:
1. Realizing Sachin's career is getting over (I think I talked about this elsewhere -- Jhen please to link (Yes, Sir. http://entropymuse.blogspot.com/2006/02/personal-records.html)).
2. Turning 30.
3. Birth of first child.
4. Birth of second child.
5. Approaching 31. (In other words, I'm younger than Jhen.)
6. In-laws visiting for second child and hearing tales of father-in-law's youth.
7. Grey hairs accompanied the birth of the second heir.
8. Black-and-white film that I used for the past 2-3 months, just for the heck of it.
9. Ten years ago, I could polish off entire bottles of booze and wake up fresh as a daisy. Not anymore.
10. Having to shop for a minivan to transport kids, self, wife, in-laws/parents (whoever is visiting). No more dreams of a Toyota Prius. (Yes, I'm a liberal. Get over it.) Next car will of course be for my mid-life crisis. Probably a used Porsche Boxter.
By,
Speck 42
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Are you peeing right now?
Saw the powerful Rang De Basanti last night. This blog is inspired by one line in the movie......Aamir tells Sue that we are a generation with one foot stuck in the past and another in the future...which leads us to pee on the present. It invoked a lot of laughter in the theater I was in and thus drowned the punch, but it kind of stuck in my head.
I know that we are indeed a confused generation on a lot of fronts (I am sure that other generations would have felt the same in their days!). This confusion is also perpetuated by the huge pace of change that we are going through. Our teens were for the first time influenced by Cable TV, breakdown of joint family system, reservation issues, Babri Masjid, increased terrorism, corruption being brought to light by media, globalization, imbibing of multiple cultural values....etc,etc,etc
We indeed feel connected to our roots....an example would be that most of us are by and large fairly religious in our own ways and most Hindu youth do follow our cultural ethos around idol worship, I am sure it’s the same for youth of other religions.--------this is our foot in the past.
We are very modern and experimentative....an example would be that despite the respect we would have for our elders, we would like to be open to ideas of how we want to live our life; e.g. men taking up more roles in managing family life and becoming more 'metro-sexual'---------this is our foot in the future.
What bothered me is what are we doing about our present. A lot of youth around me in Lucknow - at the peak of Babri Masjid movement were indeed moved and became fanatical-a-la-Atul in RDB. A lot of us indeed are running towards a job abroad-a-la-junior Singhania in RDB. A lot of us do party hard a-la the DJ of RDB.
I would hate to believe that we are all peeing over our present. Yes, when the momentum of change is huge in a country like ours with all the liberalisation of value systems and the economy at large, we do not know whether we are on the right path.
Sardar Patel told Jawahar Lal Nehru once....We are taking decisions of a high magnitude and they can be interpreted in various ways by generations to come. I just hope that they could see that we didn't mean anything wrong, but were merely driven by the circumstances of our times.....I feel the same way, our generation is kind of stuck in a similar bind, and frankly we don’t think about all this most of the time either.
Lets hope we are certainly not peeing on our present.
By,
Amit Agarwal
I know that we are indeed a confused generation on a lot of fronts (I am sure that other generations would have felt the same in their days!). This confusion is also perpetuated by the huge pace of change that we are going through. Our teens were for the first time influenced by Cable TV, breakdown of joint family system, reservation issues, Babri Masjid, increased terrorism, corruption being brought to light by media, globalization, imbibing of multiple cultural values....etc,etc,etc
We indeed feel connected to our roots....an example would be that most of us are by and large fairly religious in our own ways and most Hindu youth do follow our cultural ethos around idol worship, I am sure it’s the same for youth of other religions.--------this is our foot in the past.
We are very modern and experimentative....an example would be that despite the respect we would have for our elders, we would like to be open to ideas of how we want to live our life; e.g. men taking up more roles in managing family life and becoming more 'metro-sexual'---------this is our foot in the future.
What bothered me is what are we doing about our present. A lot of youth around me in Lucknow - at the peak of Babri Masjid movement were indeed moved and became fanatical-a-la-Atul in RDB. A lot of us indeed are running towards a job abroad-a-la-junior Singhania in RDB. A lot of us do party hard a-la the DJ of RDB.
I would hate to believe that we are all peeing over our present. Yes, when the momentum of change is huge in a country like ours with all the liberalisation of value systems and the economy at large, we do not know whether we are on the right path.
Sardar Patel told Jawahar Lal Nehru once....We are taking decisions of a high magnitude and they can be interpreted in various ways by generations to come. I just hope that they could see that we didn't mean anything wrong, but were merely driven by the circumstances of our times.....I feel the same way, our generation is kind of stuck in a similar bind, and frankly we don’t think about all this most of the time either.
Lets hope we are certainly not peeing on our present.
By,
Amit Agarwal
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Over the Hill
(this contribution previously posted on http://mamasaysso.blogspot.com)
I turned 30 yesterday. I am old. I am over the hill. I am middle-aged.
The way I spent my birthday totally symbolises this transition from the twenties to the thirties.
Saturday Night – Still 29…
Went to Zenzi with some girlfriends.
Saw John Abraham at the restaurant and made two (unnecessary) trips to the loo to get a closer look (he's cute...)
Had an entire bottle of wine
Came home to find husband waiting with a surprise midnight birthday cake
Ate Maggi for dinner at 2 in the morning
Slept at 3 a.m.
Sunday and my birthday – 30 plus
Went to the Marriot for a super-expensive and super-relaxing massage (birthday gift from husband)
Had to fill a form prior to massage – and mention my new age
Sunday is the maid’s afternoon off so came home and fed and generally tended to my son
Went to Jogger’s Park with husband and son and interacted with other kids and their parents
Came home and put Ayaan to bed
Cooked dinner with husband (our new definition of a romantic dinner)
Watched Desperate Housewives
Went to sleep at 11 p.m.
By,
Rohini Haldea
I turned 30 yesterday. I am old. I am over the hill. I am middle-aged.
The way I spent my birthday totally symbolises this transition from the twenties to the thirties.
Saturday Night – Still 29…
Went to Zenzi with some girlfriends.
Saw John Abraham at the restaurant and made two (unnecessary) trips to the loo to get a closer look (he's cute...)
Had an entire bottle of wine
Came home to find husband waiting with a surprise midnight birthday cake
Ate Maggi for dinner at 2 in the morning
Slept at 3 a.m.
Sunday and my birthday – 30 plus
Went to the Marriot for a super-expensive and super-relaxing massage (birthday gift from husband)
Had to fill a form prior to massage – and mention my new age
Sunday is the maid’s afternoon off so came home and fed and generally tended to my son
Went to Jogger’s Park with husband and son and interacted with other kids and their parents
Came home and put Ayaan to bed
Cooked dinner with husband (our new definition of a romantic dinner)
Watched Desperate Housewives
Went to sleep at 11 p.m.
By,
Rohini Haldea
Review of 'Maine Pyar Kiya'
When this movie was released in the 80s, I was 13. I was beginning to watch movies which were not of the cartoon or kiddie film variety. Bollywood was bravely experimenting with romantic movies, with 20-year-old heroes, playing 20-year-old heroes. There was a lot of debate on which was a better movie – ‘Qayamat se Qayamat Tak’ or ‘Maine Pyar Kiya’ ? I always aligned with the supporters of the latter. The main reason I guess was that the heroine Suman was my idea of a perfect romantic heroine. She looked sweet, stood her ground (watch her rescue the pigeon in the face of thick opposition) and was decent at repartee. Most of all, unlike Juhi in QSQT, she did not choose to go and cook in a forest to prove her love but sat at home comfortably waiting for the hero to do all the hard work. Salman Khan was also quite sweet in those days. No one knew then that he would grow up to be an irresponsible, steroid - pumped, bare - chested, pedestrian - killing jerk. As for the movie itself…ah those were the days of black and white, rich and poor, good and evil, everyone so loving, so naïve and so simple.
Recently I watched this movie again, and realised that it is not as simple as it was made out to be. Indeed, it is a very powerful lesson on human relationships, social settings, business moves and animal welfare. In case any of you missed this movie, here is my retelling of the tale.
The movie starts off with Suman (Bhagyashree) teaching her father and a bunch of students in her idyllic village. Having passed her school exams with excellent marks, she does not want to be a doctor or an engineer or any other such fancy thing. Instead she chooses to improve her father’s English and cool her heels while her father earns enough money for her dowry. The one thing about Sooraj Barjatya’s movies is that they are social barometers of what is ‘acceptable’ education in an average North Indian family. Years later, Nisha in ‘Hum Apke Hain Kaun’ would be doing ‘computers’. I would not have been surprised if she also went for baking classes in her free time. Still more years later, one of the female leads in that imbecilic marriage fest, ‘Hum Saath Saath Hain’, would actually be a doctor ! I jumped with joy - Women in India had finally Arrived !
Coming back to Suman. Daddy dearest (a.k.a Karan) decides to go to Dubai to earn Suman’s dowry, and leaves Suman in the house of his old friends, Kishen and Bhabi. Kishen has made it big in life and is the owner of many factories and a good house. But like all rich men in Hindi movies, he has forgotten his roots and is not too nice to Karan. A fact which naïve Karan luckily does not notice at that point, giving Suman ample time to start off her romance. Enter Manohar, an orphan being brought up by Kishen and Bhabi. One quick look at his average mug, boring personality and poverty and Suman promptly requests him to be her Bhaiya, thus eliminating any ideas Manohar may have had about romancing her. Enter Prem (Salman Khan), the heir of the house, back after getting his degree in the U.S. Suman does not broach the topic of brotherhood, instead promptly proceeds to fall in love. This is achieved by a general combination of
(a) looking vulnerable – weeping gently when her father’s letter arrives
(b) mocking him without making him look like a complete fool
(c) being the damsel in distress – oh man, who can resist falling in love with a girl whom you have snatched from the evil clutches of the villain trying to rape her; and
(d) being bashful – taking 15 minutes and one entire Antakshari sequence to say ‘I love you’. (It is ironical how in Hindi movies heroines take ages to hold hands but three months after the marriage they announce they are pregnant)
Meanwhile, the evil Ranjit is plotting to be…er…. the villain. Till the end, you are not quite sure what his objective is. He is Kishen’s business partner. Kishen and Ranjit are setting up a joint venture. Ranjit, to create sympathy also cleverly pretends to be lame, when he actually is not. In line with her father’s evil plans, his career oriented, educated, productive-citizen-of-the-country daughter, Seema woos Prem. Prem, being an average Hindi hero, is however not going to marry a Class A bitch like Seema. Class A bitch defined by the fact she smokes, wears western clothes, has short hair and works as a manager, thus increasing the likelihood of making him look incompetent in the Boardroom. (I must say one would not judge Prem so harshly if one considered Seema’s terrible perm.) Evil Ranjit’s nephew, Jeevan, is also there – the chappie who tries to rape Suman. Prem does not quite let that incident get in the way of his being civil to Jeevan.
There is one more important character in the proceedings – The Pigeon (Huma Khan). Suman rescues the pigeon from being shot at Seema’s party. The pigeon does not forget this and becomes the couple’s Man Friday – delivering letters, rescuing the couple from the villains when they are hanging from a branch and so on and so forth. All the while with a glint in it’s eye which comes with having been at the brink of death. Maneka Gandhi would have been proud to endorse Sooraj Barjatya movies where an animal always plays a key role in the proceedings.
Suman and Prem realise they are in love and Bhabi endorses the scheme of things. But evil Ranjit brainwashes Kishen into believing that Suman’s intentions are not pure and she is in it for the money. So on Suman’s birthday, Kishen sends Prem off on some work and accuses her of being a gold digger. Ranjit joins this round of accusations. Karan arrives just then and not sensing the mood goes about distributing gifts to all in his naïve manner. When Kishen finally brings his attention to the discussion on hand, Karan erupts angrily and opens his suitcase to reveal bundles upon bundles of hard cash – his earnings from Dubai which he carries about with him for just such a moment. After throwing a few lousy bundles on Kishen as payment for the boarding and lodging provided to Suman, he leaves the house with Suman in tow.
Prem comes back home, learns the truth and sets off to find Suman. And then sings ‘Dil Deewana’ while doing the moonwalking step (Is it a coincidence that right after this Michael Jackson’s popularity reached its peak in India?). Suman joins in by hopping like a rabbit with him. Karan, unable to bear the dance, puts a stop to it by asking Prem to prove his worth by earning money on his own individual merit.
Now some of you may have heard of the fabulous salaries that educated kids with fancy degrees get today. Back in the 80s, well-educated people just did not have those opportunities. If you opted out of campus placements, then it better be because you had Papa warming the MD’s chair for you in the family business. If you decided to part ways with Papa, then the only option left to you was breaking rocks in a quarry. So Prem decides to break rocks in the quarry while enterprisingly moonlighting as a truck driver. Within a month, he earns enough money.
However, realising that things are going nowhere and that the movie has to end, Jeevan decides to kill Prem. Kishen, Bhabi, Manohar and Ranjit also land up since the official bugle to announce the beginning of the climax has been sounded. Prem, after being beaten to pulp by Jeevan, sees that an audience has accumulated and decides to put up another good fight. Notwithstanding the constant interruptions from Suman running hither and thither, he still manages to do a decent job.
Meanwhile, Ranjit reveals to Kishen that he is not lame. Kishen is stunned by the turn of events – How could he have selected so silly a business partner that the only thing he could think of was acting lame? At the very least, he should have carried the JV agreements with him and threatened to kill Prem if Kishen did not give him 100% control of the company. Disgusted, he also joins the fray by beating up Ranjit. Bhabi and Manohar handle the henchmen. Finally Jeevan falls down the quarry, thanks to the Pigeon (I would rather not reveal the exact sequence of events since it is best seen). Ranjit and Seema leave before they can follow Jeevan down the quarry. And end up in the hands of the waiting police (But of course) and are arrested for causing mental trauma – Ranjit for pretending to be lame and Seema for perming her hair.
Kishen sees the error of his ways and decides no more JVs, only sole control. Also, no smart daughter-in-law, only Suman, the diesel mechanic’s daughter. A lesson, which would have been very useful to T.P.G Nambiar, when he chose a smart son-in-law for his daughter who would later fight for the Group’s shares.
Suman gets married to Prem. Manohar Bhaiya settles for the only woman who will marry him – the milkmaid. The Pigeon marries another pigeon. To clarify that our heroic Pigeon is not gay, its mate has a ladylike red ribbon tied to her neck.
All is well that ends well.
By,
Anita B.
Recently I watched this movie again, and realised that it is not as simple as it was made out to be. Indeed, it is a very powerful lesson on human relationships, social settings, business moves and animal welfare. In case any of you missed this movie, here is my retelling of the tale.
The movie starts off with Suman (Bhagyashree) teaching her father and a bunch of students in her idyllic village. Having passed her school exams with excellent marks, she does not want to be a doctor or an engineer or any other such fancy thing. Instead she chooses to improve her father’s English and cool her heels while her father earns enough money for her dowry. The one thing about Sooraj Barjatya’s movies is that they are social barometers of what is ‘acceptable’ education in an average North Indian family. Years later, Nisha in ‘Hum Apke Hain Kaun’ would be doing ‘computers’. I would not have been surprised if she also went for baking classes in her free time. Still more years later, one of the female leads in that imbecilic marriage fest, ‘Hum Saath Saath Hain’, would actually be a doctor ! I jumped with joy - Women in India had finally Arrived !
Coming back to Suman. Daddy dearest (a.k.a Karan) decides to go to Dubai to earn Suman’s dowry, and leaves Suman in the house of his old friends, Kishen and Bhabi. Kishen has made it big in life and is the owner of many factories and a good house. But like all rich men in Hindi movies, he has forgotten his roots and is not too nice to Karan. A fact which naïve Karan luckily does not notice at that point, giving Suman ample time to start off her romance. Enter Manohar, an orphan being brought up by Kishen and Bhabi. One quick look at his average mug, boring personality and poverty and Suman promptly requests him to be her Bhaiya, thus eliminating any ideas Manohar may have had about romancing her. Enter Prem (Salman Khan), the heir of the house, back after getting his degree in the U.S. Suman does not broach the topic of brotherhood, instead promptly proceeds to fall in love. This is achieved by a general combination of
(a) looking vulnerable – weeping gently when her father’s letter arrives
(b) mocking him without making him look like a complete fool
(c) being the damsel in distress – oh man, who can resist falling in love with a girl whom you have snatched from the evil clutches of the villain trying to rape her; and
(d) being bashful – taking 15 minutes and one entire Antakshari sequence to say ‘I love you’. (It is ironical how in Hindi movies heroines take ages to hold hands but three months after the marriage they announce they are pregnant)
Meanwhile, the evil Ranjit is plotting to be…er…. the villain. Till the end, you are not quite sure what his objective is. He is Kishen’s business partner. Kishen and Ranjit are setting up a joint venture. Ranjit, to create sympathy also cleverly pretends to be lame, when he actually is not. In line with her father’s evil plans, his career oriented, educated, productive-citizen-of-the-country daughter, Seema woos Prem. Prem, being an average Hindi hero, is however not going to marry a Class A bitch like Seema. Class A bitch defined by the fact she smokes, wears western clothes, has short hair and works as a manager, thus increasing the likelihood of making him look incompetent in the Boardroom. (I must say one would not judge Prem so harshly if one considered Seema’s terrible perm.) Evil Ranjit’s nephew, Jeevan, is also there – the chappie who tries to rape Suman. Prem does not quite let that incident get in the way of his being civil to Jeevan.
There is one more important character in the proceedings – The Pigeon (Huma Khan). Suman rescues the pigeon from being shot at Seema’s party. The pigeon does not forget this and becomes the couple’s Man Friday – delivering letters, rescuing the couple from the villains when they are hanging from a branch and so on and so forth. All the while with a glint in it’s eye which comes with having been at the brink of death. Maneka Gandhi would have been proud to endorse Sooraj Barjatya movies where an animal always plays a key role in the proceedings.
Suman and Prem realise they are in love and Bhabi endorses the scheme of things. But evil Ranjit brainwashes Kishen into believing that Suman’s intentions are not pure and she is in it for the money. So on Suman’s birthday, Kishen sends Prem off on some work and accuses her of being a gold digger. Ranjit joins this round of accusations. Karan arrives just then and not sensing the mood goes about distributing gifts to all in his naïve manner. When Kishen finally brings his attention to the discussion on hand, Karan erupts angrily and opens his suitcase to reveal bundles upon bundles of hard cash – his earnings from Dubai which he carries about with him for just such a moment. After throwing a few lousy bundles on Kishen as payment for the boarding and lodging provided to Suman, he leaves the house with Suman in tow.
Prem comes back home, learns the truth and sets off to find Suman. And then sings ‘Dil Deewana’ while doing the moonwalking step (Is it a coincidence that right after this Michael Jackson’s popularity reached its peak in India?). Suman joins in by hopping like a rabbit with him. Karan, unable to bear the dance, puts a stop to it by asking Prem to prove his worth by earning money on his own individual merit.
Now some of you may have heard of the fabulous salaries that educated kids with fancy degrees get today. Back in the 80s, well-educated people just did not have those opportunities. If you opted out of campus placements, then it better be because you had Papa warming the MD’s chair for you in the family business. If you decided to part ways with Papa, then the only option left to you was breaking rocks in a quarry. So Prem decides to break rocks in the quarry while enterprisingly moonlighting as a truck driver. Within a month, he earns enough money.
However, realising that things are going nowhere and that the movie has to end, Jeevan decides to kill Prem. Kishen, Bhabi, Manohar and Ranjit also land up since the official bugle to announce the beginning of the climax has been sounded. Prem, after being beaten to pulp by Jeevan, sees that an audience has accumulated and decides to put up another good fight. Notwithstanding the constant interruptions from Suman running hither and thither, he still manages to do a decent job.
Meanwhile, Ranjit reveals to Kishen that he is not lame. Kishen is stunned by the turn of events – How could he have selected so silly a business partner that the only thing he could think of was acting lame? At the very least, he should have carried the JV agreements with him and threatened to kill Prem if Kishen did not give him 100% control of the company. Disgusted, he also joins the fray by beating up Ranjit. Bhabi and Manohar handle the henchmen. Finally Jeevan falls down the quarry, thanks to the Pigeon (I would rather not reveal the exact sequence of events since it is best seen). Ranjit and Seema leave before they can follow Jeevan down the quarry. And end up in the hands of the waiting police (But of course) and are arrested for causing mental trauma – Ranjit for pretending to be lame and Seema for perming her hair.
Kishen sees the error of his ways and decides no more JVs, only sole control. Also, no smart daughter-in-law, only Suman, the diesel mechanic’s daughter. A lesson, which would have been very useful to T.P.G Nambiar, when he chose a smart son-in-law for his daughter who would later fight for the Group’s shares.
Suman gets married to Prem. Manohar Bhaiya settles for the only woman who will marry him – the milkmaid. The Pigeon marries another pigeon. To clarify that our heroic Pigeon is not gay, its mate has a ladylike red ribbon tied to her neck.
All is well that ends well.
By,
Anita B.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Review of 'Syriana'
It took me a while to arrive to the conclusion that I liked 'Syriana'.
The movie has a lot of things going for it to begin with. It is a hyperlink movie, a term apparently coined by an Alissa Quart in an article for 'Film Comment'. The movie flits between several sub-plots, all engaging, and all developing independently at their own pace.There is no obvious indication as to whether they will eventually tie up, although it is a reasonable guess to make.
This kind of movie structure keeps the viewer engaged. Nothing drags on for too long, and it keeps you focused all the time. The Clooney/Sodebergh/Gaghan combo has done this before in 'Traffic' (c/s/g), 'Out of Sight'(c/s), to some extent 'Three Kings'(c). If you you liked these films, then 'Syriana' will hit home.
But the best part about the movie is that it is matter of fact. Which is why I haven't brought up the plot(s) yet, and don't need to. The movie doesn't bother with introducing any of its eclectic set of characters, simply starts telling the story. It continues to do so, and eventually stops.
There is no judgement passed. All the characters do what they do out of their own convictions. And in doing so, seamlessly go back and forth a nebulous good/bad divide that really exists only in the viewers mind.
The CIA undercover agent, Clooney/Barnes is underrated, and disrespected, and eventually framed. But he will estrange family, and subject himself to life threatening torture, the gory scene prompting a remark from a friend,' why would one do a job like this?'. He will assassinate people and emirs, but be obsessed about a missing missile, because it might fall into the hands of a wrong assassin. Why indeed ?
Then there is an ace lawyer, Wright/Holiday, looking for corruption that might have led to an obscure oil company getting drilling rights to promising fields in Kazakhstan. His is a private investigation, to get to the smoking guns before the Justice Dept does. The more he gets into it, his uprightness softens as he starts looking for fall guys so that the need to show the appearance of justice being served is met, and an invite to the oil-man of the year dinner is wrangled.
Most characters are believable, especially the Texan oil-men, who do what they do "not for themselves but to prevent the Chinese economy from growing faster, and to pass benefits of scale to consumers". Clooney, I thought was a let-down despite his Oscar. His mannerisms:
the craned neck, the disappointed shrug are the same as in anything he has done before, right from 'ER' to 'One Fine Day' to 'OoS'. Also the last bit seems to be out of character. If he has to preventan assassination, then a CIA operator wouldn't have to fly physically over, a simple phone call would have done.
Matt Damon/Bryan is completely miscast as an analyst in a Swiss energy trading/consulting firm. Somebody needs to tell him that the shooting of 'Good Will Hunting' and 'Rounders' ended long time back, and he needs to kill the hyperactive-genius-forever-on-the-edge act. His ability to gloss over a personal loss and justify its conversion into a huge professional and financial gain is more believable.
The movie worked for me because it showed how the world works. It was not about the storyline, or because it seems like a liberal sarcasm of the hopelessly intertwined American energy/foreign policy. It presents people going about their lives based on personal ambitions, peer pressures or internal moral compasses and making compromises along the way. And as their lives intersect with others whose driving forces are different, it turns into a game. You can jump in or sit out depending on how high you are willing to raise the stakes. Definite must see.
By,
Nikhil.
The movie has a lot of things going for it to begin with. It is a hyperlink movie, a term apparently coined by an Alissa Quart in an article for 'Film Comment'. The movie flits between several sub-plots, all engaging, and all developing independently at their own pace.There is no obvious indication as to whether they will eventually tie up, although it is a reasonable guess to make.
This kind of movie structure keeps the viewer engaged. Nothing drags on for too long, and it keeps you focused all the time. The Clooney/Sodebergh/Gaghan combo has done this before in 'Traffic' (c/s/g), 'Out of Sight'(c/s), to some extent 'Three Kings'(c). If you you liked these films, then 'Syriana' will hit home.
But the best part about the movie is that it is matter of fact. Which is why I haven't brought up the plot(s) yet, and don't need to. The movie doesn't bother with introducing any of its eclectic set of characters, simply starts telling the story. It continues to do so, and eventually stops.
There is no judgement passed. All the characters do what they do out of their own convictions. And in doing so, seamlessly go back and forth a nebulous good/bad divide that really exists only in the viewers mind.
The CIA undercover agent, Clooney/Barnes is underrated, and disrespected, and eventually framed. But he will estrange family, and subject himself to life threatening torture, the gory scene prompting a remark from a friend,' why would one do a job like this?'. He will assassinate people and emirs, but be obsessed about a missing missile, because it might fall into the hands of a wrong assassin. Why indeed ?
Then there is an ace lawyer, Wright/Holiday, looking for corruption that might have led to an obscure oil company getting drilling rights to promising fields in Kazakhstan. His is a private investigation, to get to the smoking guns before the Justice Dept does. The more he gets into it, his uprightness softens as he starts looking for fall guys so that the need to show the appearance of justice being served is met, and an invite to the oil-man of the year dinner is wrangled.
Most characters are believable, especially the Texan oil-men, who do what they do "not for themselves but to prevent the Chinese economy from growing faster, and to pass benefits of scale to consumers". Clooney, I thought was a let-down despite his Oscar. His mannerisms:
the craned neck, the disappointed shrug are the same as in anything he has done before, right from 'ER' to 'One Fine Day' to 'OoS'. Also the last bit seems to be out of character. If he has to preventan assassination, then a CIA operator wouldn't have to fly physically over, a simple phone call would have done.
Matt Damon/Bryan is completely miscast as an analyst in a Swiss energy trading/consulting firm. Somebody needs to tell him that the shooting of 'Good Will Hunting' and 'Rounders' ended long time back, and he needs to kill the hyperactive-genius-forever-on-the-edge act. His ability to gloss over a personal loss and justify its conversion into a huge professional and financial gain is more believable.
The movie worked for me because it showed how the world works. It was not about the storyline, or because it seems like a liberal sarcasm of the hopelessly intertwined American energy/foreign policy. It presents people going about their lives based on personal ambitions, peer pressures or internal moral compasses and making compromises along the way. And as their lives intersect with others whose driving forces are different, it turns into a game. You can jump in or sit out depending on how high you are willing to raise the stakes. Definite must see.
By,
Nikhil.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Review of 'Rang De Basanti'
At a time when protest has become pedestrian with the current national obsession being something like whether Sourav Ganguly should be wearing boxers or Y-fronts, here comes a movie which recoups some of that lost glory, and where protest is put on a pedestal. RDB is a very significant (and I do not use that term lightly) movie in that it has succeeded commercially and has become a cult movie despite it being a very serious and topical movie.
The Story
The movie revolves around a gang of four – DJ (Aamir Khan), Karan (Siddharth), Aslam (Kunal Kapoor) and Sukhi (Sharman Joshi). DJ, actually named Daljeet, is a Sikh and almost bordering on the lunatic. He has been out of college for a few years but hangs around there because he is scared of the world outside. This is actually a clever attempt to make Aamir act like a college kid though he does not look like one. Sukhi is DJ’s booze-um buddy. Karan is the strong and silent type while Aslam is a bit of a poet. Apart from Karan, most of the others come from middle to lower-middle class families.
All the four are great buddies – these are friendships born out of deep experiences like shaking hands without washing them after visiting the loo. They are having a great time in Delhi – drinking, driving, drinking, driving and everything short of 'Brokeback Mountain'.
Sue (Alice Patten), after coming across the diary of her grandfather -who was a jailor when Bhagat Singh, Rajguru, Sukhdev et al were in prison, comes from Britain to make a documentary on them. Soniya (Soha Ali Khan) is her local contact who is helping her out. After several frustrating (to her) and funny (to us) auditions for selecting the actors to recreate the historical roles, she sees light in the form of our four protagonists.
The guys, like most of our generation do not believe in revolutions and are pessimistic about the benefits of protest. They can’t identify with the historical characters and do not want to have a saffronite play the part of Ram Prasad Bismil. They are on the verge of walking out when copious tears shed by Sue ensure that they devote their energies to the task.
Things take a serious turn when their personal lives start taking on parallels with their roles in the film. The film keeps cross cutting between the Bhagat Singh story and the story of the protagonists. A deeply personal tragedy pushes them into a maelstorm of politics, arms dealership, terrorist acts and finally ends in a blaze of glory.
Views
I was initially sceptical about this movie. The promos felt a lot similar to Dil Chahta Hai (DCH) and I thought it would be similar – loves and lives of some rich guys, essentially a usual growing up kind of theme. You have been through enough such movies before. But it was a very pleasant surprise to find that RDB is actually a very serious and topical movie.
The two most important elements of RDB are the script (Story by Kamlesh Pandey, screenplay by Renil D’ Silva, dialogues by ad man Prasoon Joshi) and editing (P.S. Bharathi, who is incidentally the director’s wife).
All the characters are finely etched, from DJ’s Sikh family background to Aslam’s lower middle class traditional Muslim upbringing. The dialogues are crisp with a good dose of college lingo.The allegorical script finds a very fine balance with the editing which cross-cuts between the present and the past. Non-linear story telling sometimes is done more for form (like in Ayutha Ezhuthu(Yuva), where the stories are not even and a bit disjonted) but here content drives the format.
Some critics have said the latter part of the movie is a bit simplistic, naïve, requires some imagination and suspension of disbelief etc. etc.. I accept all of them. But I condone them, as the movie is about youth and the urge to get things done. It is but natural for 20 year olds to be all of the above, in fact even Karan in a scene says that their actions were of weakness, not of strength. That is the answer to the critics.
In fact the movie eschews the easier path. With a firang girl and Aamir Khan in the movie, having her succumb to India’s greatest kisser before Emraan Hashmi would have been easy. Having a good college song and dance routine with some cheap college humour would even easier. Having the guys being acquitted in court would have been a slam dunk. There are no songs too in the traditional sense, in fact all the songs only run in the background. In every step, the movie evokes an art-house flavour in its realism.
All the performances are top grade, especially of Siddharth (who has done some decent performances as hero is some Telugu and Tamil movies) as Karan. There are fine little cameos by Om Puri, Anupam Kher, Waheeda Rehman etc.
The lyrics and music deserve a special mention. A.R.Rehman is in his best form after some years of tripe. The spirit of the movie has been finely captured, with funkiness and sensitivity wherever required. The lyrics of Prasoon Joshi, are also apt for the mood. Songs like the title track, “Loose Control” and “Lukka Chuppi” are wonderful, especially the last which draws a very fine analogy for Mother India calling back her country which has gone astray (sounds corny but it isn't).
Rakeysh Mehra’s main effort is in bringing diverse talents together and creating a tour-de-force. My main liking for the movie, is in its earthiness and realism. There is no gloss or garish sets and costumes. No Punjabi song and dance movie of the Chopra-Johar clan has ever evoked the sounds and smells of Punjab as the Sikh festival shown in RDB. No amount of nostalgic meandering about “makki ki roti” and “sarson ka saag” in those movies can match the genuine warmth of the tandoor in Kiron Kher’s house.
RDB is patriotic without being didactic, nationalistic without being jingoistic. It shows that filmmakers after all do care about the country and the success of the movie shows that even the audience cares. Yes, we do.
Post – script
It is almost like the writer read my earlier review HKA’s (Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi) post-script “HKA sometimes make you wonder what you will have to say to your kids when they ask “what did you do in your twenties?……..” Now RDB offers one answer, an answer which is blowing in the wind, blowing in the breeze of Basant.
By,
Vamshidhar Guthikonda
(more reviews by him at http://guthikonda.blogspot.com)
The Story
The movie revolves around a gang of four – DJ (Aamir Khan), Karan (Siddharth), Aslam (Kunal Kapoor) and Sukhi (Sharman Joshi). DJ, actually named Daljeet, is a Sikh and almost bordering on the lunatic. He has been out of college for a few years but hangs around there because he is scared of the world outside. This is actually a clever attempt to make Aamir act like a college kid though he does not look like one. Sukhi is DJ’s booze-um buddy. Karan is the strong and silent type while Aslam is a bit of a poet. Apart from Karan, most of the others come from middle to lower-middle class families.
All the four are great buddies – these are friendships born out of deep experiences like shaking hands without washing them after visiting the loo. They are having a great time in Delhi – drinking, driving, drinking, driving and everything short of 'Brokeback Mountain'.
Sue (Alice Patten), after coming across the diary of her grandfather -who was a jailor when Bhagat Singh, Rajguru, Sukhdev et al were in prison, comes from Britain to make a documentary on them. Soniya (Soha Ali Khan) is her local contact who is helping her out. After several frustrating (to her) and funny (to us) auditions for selecting the actors to recreate the historical roles, she sees light in the form of our four protagonists.
The guys, like most of our generation do not believe in revolutions and are pessimistic about the benefits of protest. They can’t identify with the historical characters and do not want to have a saffronite play the part of Ram Prasad Bismil. They are on the verge of walking out when copious tears shed by Sue ensure that they devote their energies to the task.
Things take a serious turn when their personal lives start taking on parallels with their roles in the film. The film keeps cross cutting between the Bhagat Singh story and the story of the protagonists. A deeply personal tragedy pushes them into a maelstorm of politics, arms dealership, terrorist acts and finally ends in a blaze of glory.
Views
I was initially sceptical about this movie. The promos felt a lot similar to Dil Chahta Hai (DCH) and I thought it would be similar – loves and lives of some rich guys, essentially a usual growing up kind of theme. You have been through enough such movies before. But it was a very pleasant surprise to find that RDB is actually a very serious and topical movie.
The two most important elements of RDB are the script (Story by Kamlesh Pandey, screenplay by Renil D’ Silva, dialogues by ad man Prasoon Joshi) and editing (P.S. Bharathi, who is incidentally the director’s wife).
All the characters are finely etched, from DJ’s Sikh family background to Aslam’s lower middle class traditional Muslim upbringing. The dialogues are crisp with a good dose of college lingo.The allegorical script finds a very fine balance with the editing which cross-cuts between the present and the past. Non-linear story telling sometimes is done more for form (like in Ayutha Ezhuthu(Yuva), where the stories are not even and a bit disjonted) but here content drives the format.
Some critics have said the latter part of the movie is a bit simplistic, naïve, requires some imagination and suspension of disbelief etc. etc.. I accept all of them. But I condone them, as the movie is about youth and the urge to get things done. It is but natural for 20 year olds to be all of the above, in fact even Karan in a scene says that their actions were of weakness, not of strength. That is the answer to the critics.
In fact the movie eschews the easier path. With a firang girl and Aamir Khan in the movie, having her succumb to India’s greatest kisser before Emraan Hashmi would have been easy. Having a good college song and dance routine with some cheap college humour would even easier. Having the guys being acquitted in court would have been a slam dunk. There are no songs too in the traditional sense, in fact all the songs only run in the background. In every step, the movie evokes an art-house flavour in its realism.
All the performances are top grade, especially of Siddharth (who has done some decent performances as hero is some Telugu and Tamil movies) as Karan. There are fine little cameos by Om Puri, Anupam Kher, Waheeda Rehman etc.
The lyrics and music deserve a special mention. A.R.Rehman is in his best form after some years of tripe. The spirit of the movie has been finely captured, with funkiness and sensitivity wherever required. The lyrics of Prasoon Joshi, are also apt for the mood. Songs like the title track, “Loose Control” and “Lukka Chuppi” are wonderful, especially the last which draws a very fine analogy for Mother India calling back her country which has gone astray (sounds corny but it isn't).
Rakeysh Mehra’s main effort is in bringing diverse talents together and creating a tour-de-force. My main liking for the movie, is in its earthiness and realism. There is no gloss or garish sets and costumes. No Punjabi song and dance movie of the Chopra-Johar clan has ever evoked the sounds and smells of Punjab as the Sikh festival shown in RDB. No amount of nostalgic meandering about “makki ki roti” and “sarson ka saag” in those movies can match the genuine warmth of the tandoor in Kiron Kher’s house.
RDB is patriotic without being didactic, nationalistic without being jingoistic. It shows that filmmakers after all do care about the country and the success of the movie shows that even the audience cares. Yes, we do.
Post – script
It is almost like the writer read my earlier review HKA’s (Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi) post-script “HKA sometimes make you wonder what you will have to say to your kids when they ask “what did you do in your twenties?……..” Now RDB offers one answer, an answer which is blowing in the wind, blowing in the breeze of Basant.
By,
Vamshidhar Guthikonda
(more reviews by him at http://guthikonda.blogspot.com)
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Review (?) of 'Crash' and 'Shakespeare in Love'
Watched two lovely movies this weekend and decided that both deserve a viewing by a larger audience (assuming most people have not watched them yet). Shall call this an opinion more than a review since apart from the names of the movies and perhaps of a few characters, it will not include any factual information.
Crash:
‘Crash’ got my attention simply because it was lined up for many awards this season. I had a very brief notion on what the movie was about; which was just as well because the pleasure of watching good cinema is enhanced by entering its world unknowing of its merits.
‘Crash’ is about racism in the U.S. It is not just racism viewed through the oppressed person's eyes. It is not about the quintessential topic of the black man being subjected to discrimination by the white man. It is about how racism exists in the fabric of America and shows up in day to day life, influencing people to act in ways which they probably don't realise are discriminatory. When you think about it, it is easier to fight the enemy when you see it larger than life.
‘Crash’ has an amalgam of characters - Black, White, Chinese, Mexican, Irani…everyone. Characters who go through the daily grind in the midst of which their lives begin to cross each other. The tension in the movie begins to build till it reaches a crescendo, then snaps and then continues (towards another unknown peak I suppose).
Why the movie works ? The story requires racism to be the protagonist of the plot. Which means every character gets very little on screen time. To make these characters work, they need to be real enough for someone who does not come from the same ethnic background to sympathise with them. They need to make your heart beat faster without unnecessary melodrama. They need to be placed in normal situations and not contrived ones that ask for disaster. Most importantly, they must not be mere stereotypes of what the audience expects of a person from a certain ethnic background. ‘Crash’ manages to do all of this extremely well.
‘Crash’ also certainly made me wonder if I would ever like to stay out of India. I remember an incident that occurred during my trip to the U.S. We were on a tour bus, occupied mainly by whites, and my family was the only brown one. After the first stop, when the tour guide realised that her bus had more passengers than what it had to begin with, she promptly asked me and my sister if we were in the wrong bus. No checking with the whole bus if anyone was in there by mistake and no going row by row. Just picking us out where we were sitting somewhere towards the end of the bus. I am not sure whether it was because she could not remember our faces from before or whether it was just the stereotype of stupid Indians (Which thank God is changing). But I don't think I would like to be wondering that often as a part of my daily life.
Shakespeare in Love :
I don't know how many people have read at least a few passages from Shakespeare. For most philistines, they appear beautiful but perhaps a bit overdramatic. The movie somehow manages to connect these over-dramatic passages to reality and sweeps you into the times of Will Shakespeare, the poet, actor and lover.
William Shakespeare (Joseph Fiennes) suffers from a bad case of writer's block. He is in search of a muse to write his next play when he meets the rich Lady Viola (Gywneth Paltrow). Lady Viola meanwhile becomes engaged to Lord Sussex (Colin Firth in an oh-so-unromantic role) rather unwillingly, the whole set up being done by her father who decides to buy a good title for his daughter with his tradesman's money. So when Will and Viola fall in love, they have to keep it under wraps. To add to the complication, Viola pretends to be a man in order to play a role in Will's play. The theatre owner for whom Will is writing his play is in dire straits and needs a play to ensure the theatre's survival. The moneylender to the theatre owner demands his pound of flesh (No pun intended). Inspired by his love for Viola and the impossibility of the love ever being public, Shakespeare produces his masterpiece of tragic love, 'Romeo and Juliet'. In the confusion that abounds in the background, you already see the seeds of his future masterpieces.
The movie draws from history, weaving tidbits of information into a narrative that moves at a brisk pace. Christopher Marlow, rumoured to have been the original author of many of Shakespeare's plays is seen giving him a tip or two. Queen Elizabeth I plays a brief but brilliant role living up to her historical image of being a patron of theatre. A literature student will definitely be able to correlate even more.
The movie itself, simply put, is lovely. I never realised the the dialogues of Romeo and Juliet were so passionate and rich till I saw them used to progress Will's and Viola's love. The movie flows in and out of the original dialogues and adds its own share of witticisms, repartees and romantic declarations. The costumes are rich and the whole atmosphere somehow bright and chirpy. The story, though imaginary, never forgets that it lives in the society of the 1500s and must be bound by it. Even towards the end when you see the head win over the heart, you understand.
Well worth a watch if you want to be sucked into a whole new world.
By,
Anita B.
Crash:
‘Crash’ got my attention simply because it was lined up for many awards this season. I had a very brief notion on what the movie was about; which was just as well because the pleasure of watching good cinema is enhanced by entering its world unknowing of its merits.
‘Crash’ is about racism in the U.S. It is not just racism viewed through the oppressed person's eyes. It is not about the quintessential topic of the black man being subjected to discrimination by the white man. It is about how racism exists in the fabric of America and shows up in day to day life, influencing people to act in ways which they probably don't realise are discriminatory. When you think about it, it is easier to fight the enemy when you see it larger than life.
‘Crash’ has an amalgam of characters - Black, White, Chinese, Mexican, Irani…everyone. Characters who go through the daily grind in the midst of which their lives begin to cross each other. The tension in the movie begins to build till it reaches a crescendo, then snaps and then continues (towards another unknown peak I suppose).
Why the movie works ? The story requires racism to be the protagonist of the plot. Which means every character gets very little on screen time. To make these characters work, they need to be real enough for someone who does not come from the same ethnic background to sympathise with them. They need to make your heart beat faster without unnecessary melodrama. They need to be placed in normal situations and not contrived ones that ask for disaster. Most importantly, they must not be mere stereotypes of what the audience expects of a person from a certain ethnic background. ‘Crash’ manages to do all of this extremely well.
‘Crash’ also certainly made me wonder if I would ever like to stay out of India. I remember an incident that occurred during my trip to the U.S. We were on a tour bus, occupied mainly by whites, and my family was the only brown one. After the first stop, when the tour guide realised that her bus had more passengers than what it had to begin with, she promptly asked me and my sister if we were in the wrong bus. No checking with the whole bus if anyone was in there by mistake and no going row by row. Just picking us out where we were sitting somewhere towards the end of the bus. I am not sure whether it was because she could not remember our faces from before or whether it was just the stereotype of stupid Indians (Which thank God is changing). But I don't think I would like to be wondering that often as a part of my daily life.
Shakespeare in Love :
I don't know how many people have read at least a few passages from Shakespeare. For most philistines, they appear beautiful but perhaps a bit overdramatic. The movie somehow manages to connect these over-dramatic passages to reality and sweeps you into the times of Will Shakespeare, the poet, actor and lover.
William Shakespeare (Joseph Fiennes) suffers from a bad case of writer's block. He is in search of a muse to write his next play when he meets the rich Lady Viola (Gywneth Paltrow). Lady Viola meanwhile becomes engaged to Lord Sussex (Colin Firth in an oh-so-unromantic role) rather unwillingly, the whole set up being done by her father who decides to buy a good title for his daughter with his tradesman's money. So when Will and Viola fall in love, they have to keep it under wraps. To add to the complication, Viola pretends to be a man in order to play a role in Will's play. The theatre owner for whom Will is writing his play is in dire straits and needs a play to ensure the theatre's survival. The moneylender to the theatre owner demands his pound of flesh (No pun intended). Inspired by his love for Viola and the impossibility of the love ever being public, Shakespeare produces his masterpiece of tragic love, 'Romeo and Juliet'. In the confusion that abounds in the background, you already see the seeds of his future masterpieces.
The movie draws from history, weaving tidbits of information into a narrative that moves at a brisk pace. Christopher Marlow, rumoured to have been the original author of many of Shakespeare's plays is seen giving him a tip or two. Queen Elizabeth I plays a brief but brilliant role living up to her historical image of being a patron of theatre. A literature student will definitely be able to correlate even more.
The movie itself, simply put, is lovely. I never realised the the dialogues of Romeo and Juliet were so passionate and rich till I saw them used to progress Will's and Viola's love. The movie flows in and out of the original dialogues and adds its own share of witticisms, repartees and romantic declarations. The costumes are rich and the whole atmosphere somehow bright and chirpy. The story, though imaginary, never forgets that it lives in the society of the 1500s and must be bound by it. Even towards the end when you see the head win over the heart, you understand.
Well worth a watch if you want to be sucked into a whole new world.
By,
Anita B.
Friday, March 10, 2006
House Hunting
By,
Zenobia D. Driver
Having changed my residence thrice in the last two years, I am quite an expert on house hunting now. I have realized that apart from pleasing sundry relatives, marriage and kids would also endear me to house-owners who look askance at single, independent women. Often I have given cold, unwelcoming landlords / landladies a long story about Mummy coming to live with me and watched their stern visage soften. Unfortunately, this is often followed by the inevitable questions about why one is not married, when one plans to get married etc and one must always be prepared to politely answer or diplomatically change the topic.
If one is a single woman looking for a house to rent, a plain-jane/jassi persona is far more advantageous as compared to a cool pseud persona – most house owners are terrified of women with ‘modern’ morals bringing boyfriends over and having wild parties. While house-hunting it is always better to wear a salwar-kameez and dupatta –the dupatta not wantonly flung over the shoulder but worn in sober Jassi style. Make-up is a strict no-no, unless it is kajal and bindi, thus firmly reaffirming one’s closeness to Indian traditions and morals.
Taking one’s friend / colleague along to check out the house also requires careful strategy and planning. The person must be of the same gender as one. A person of opposite gender is permissible only if accompanied by his spouse, thus clearly indicating his non-availability for night-time frolic with the tenant-to-be. However, even a couple may jeopardize one’s chances of getting a house if they act too senti in public or look too modern, thus resembling the section of modern youngsters that have a pretty flexible definition of marriage and enjoy group frolic.
Some cities are worse than others. In Bombay, transactions tend to be more or less commercial in nature with fewer extraneous considerations. A few owners do come up with random conditions like not wanting non-veg cooked in the house, but they tend to agree once you threaten to back out of the deal (dunno if this is true for all-jain or all-sindhi buildings). In Calcutta, house owners create maximum fuss and inconvenience – many of my colleagues were asked to produce a print-out of their resume and were interviewed by the owner before he would agree to rent out the house.
Real estate agents, across cities, are, at best a lazy bunch who do nothing other than show you the house; in some cases they are downright shady. Allowing them to negotiate or enter into any discussion with the owner directly is a huge mistake. I had a lucky escape once when I was about to hand over a cheque for the brokerage amount to a real estate agent’s representative when the said rep had plans of running away from the city with the money. For days after that, I had nightmares about this guy entering my house with the second key and killing me.
Then I moved to Bangalore and met the real estate agent who smashed my ego and danced on the fragments with hob-nailed boots. This guy is a smooth – talking character who convinced me to look at a house because it was ‘a very beautiful house, madam, almost as beautiful as you’. I realised how old, disheveled, decrepit I looked when I saw the house – the whitewash was peeling, the floor was dirty, there were cockroach droppings and dead cockroaches everywhere, every plug-point and switchboard was broken, the lights were missing and all the walls had random pencil lines and scribbles running across them. It is not a coincidence that I started applying a face-pack and exercising regularly after that.
To end, a poem by Sophie Hannah which sums up the whole process beautifully :
Sophie Hannah
It's a poem called 'You Won't Find a Bath in Leeds', and it's a revenge poem about a lettings agent my boyfriend and I dealt with when we first moved to Leeds. He actually tried to convince us that we would never find a flat with a bath in it, and to settle for one that only had a shower.
You won't find a bath in Leeds
Sophie Hannah
From the River Cam and the A14
To the Aire and the tall Ml,
We left the place where home had been,
Still wondering what we'd done,
And we went to Yorkshire, undeterred
By the hearts we'd left down South
And we couldn't believe the words we heard
From the lettings agent's mouth.
He showed us a flat near an abbatoir
Then one where a man had died
Then one with nowhere to park our car
Then one with no bath inside.
With the undertone of cheering
Of a person who impedes,
He looked straight at us, sneeering,
'You won't find a bath in Leeds'.
'We have come to Leeds from Cambridge.
We have heard that Leeds is nice.
A bath is seen in Cambridge
As an integral device,
So don't tell me that a shower
Is sufficient to meet my needs,'
I said. I received a glower
And 'You won't find a bath in Leeds'.
He fingered a fraying curtain
And I said, 'You can't be sure.
Some things in life are uncertain
And that's what hope is for.
One day I might meet Robert Redford
At Bristol Temple Meads.
I've found baths in Bracknell and Bedford
And I might find a bath in Leeds.'
He replied with a refutation
Which served to increase our pain
But we didn't head for the station
Or run for a rescue train,
Though we felt like trampled flowers
Who'd been set upon by weeds.
We told him to stuff his showers
And we would find a bath in Leeds.
Some people are snide and scathing
And they try to undermine
Your favourite form of bathing
Or the way you write a line.
At night, while you're busy praying
That your every plan succeeds,
There are killjoys somewhere saying,
'You won't find a bath in Leeds'.
A better definition
Might be reading all of Proust,
But the concept of ambition
Has been radically reduced.
While the London wits are burning
Their cash in the Groucho club,
In Yorkshire we're simply yearning
To locate an enamel tub.
I win, Mr Bath Bad Tidings.
I have not one bath but two.
En-suite in the sweet West Ridings
And no bloody thanks to you.
I may never run fast, or tower
Over Wimbledon's top seeds
Or hit sixes like David Gower
But I have found a bath in Leeds.
Zenobia D. Driver
Having changed my residence thrice in the last two years, I am quite an expert on house hunting now. I have realized that apart from pleasing sundry relatives, marriage and kids would also endear me to house-owners who look askance at single, independent women. Often I have given cold, unwelcoming landlords / landladies a long story about Mummy coming to live with me and watched their stern visage soften. Unfortunately, this is often followed by the inevitable questions about why one is not married, when one plans to get married etc and one must always be prepared to politely answer or diplomatically change the topic.
If one is a single woman looking for a house to rent, a plain-jane/jassi persona is far more advantageous as compared to a cool pseud persona – most house owners are terrified of women with ‘modern’ morals bringing boyfriends over and having wild parties. While house-hunting it is always better to wear a salwar-kameez and dupatta –the dupatta not wantonly flung over the shoulder but worn in sober Jassi style. Make-up is a strict no-no, unless it is kajal and bindi, thus firmly reaffirming one’s closeness to Indian traditions and morals.
Taking one’s friend / colleague along to check out the house also requires careful strategy and planning. The person must be of the same gender as one. A person of opposite gender is permissible only if accompanied by his spouse, thus clearly indicating his non-availability for night-time frolic with the tenant-to-be. However, even a couple may jeopardize one’s chances of getting a house if they act too senti in public or look too modern, thus resembling the section of modern youngsters that have a pretty flexible definition of marriage and enjoy group frolic.
Some cities are worse than others. In Bombay, transactions tend to be more or less commercial in nature with fewer extraneous considerations. A few owners do come up with random conditions like not wanting non-veg cooked in the house, but they tend to agree once you threaten to back out of the deal (dunno if this is true for all-jain or all-sindhi buildings). In Calcutta, house owners create maximum fuss and inconvenience – many of my colleagues were asked to produce a print-out of their resume and were interviewed by the owner before he would agree to rent out the house.
Real estate agents, across cities, are, at best a lazy bunch who do nothing other than show you the house; in some cases they are downright shady. Allowing them to negotiate or enter into any discussion with the owner directly is a huge mistake. I had a lucky escape once when I was about to hand over a cheque for the brokerage amount to a real estate agent’s representative when the said rep had plans of running away from the city with the money. For days after that, I had nightmares about this guy entering my house with the second key and killing me.
Then I moved to Bangalore and met the real estate agent who smashed my ego and danced on the fragments with hob-nailed boots. This guy is a smooth – talking character who convinced me to look at a house because it was ‘a very beautiful house, madam, almost as beautiful as you’. I realised how old, disheveled, decrepit I looked when I saw the house – the whitewash was peeling, the floor was dirty, there were cockroach droppings and dead cockroaches everywhere, every plug-point and switchboard was broken, the lights were missing and all the walls had random pencil lines and scribbles running across them. It is not a coincidence that I started applying a face-pack and exercising regularly after that.
To end, a poem by Sophie Hannah which sums up the whole process beautifully :
Sophie Hannah
It's a poem called 'You Won't Find a Bath in Leeds', and it's a revenge poem about a lettings agent my boyfriend and I dealt with when we first moved to Leeds. He actually tried to convince us that we would never find a flat with a bath in it, and to settle for one that only had a shower.
You won't find a bath in Leeds
Sophie Hannah
From the River Cam and the A14
To the Aire and the tall Ml,
We left the place where home had been,
Still wondering what we'd done,
And we went to Yorkshire, undeterred
By the hearts we'd left down South
And we couldn't believe the words we heard
From the lettings agent's mouth.
He showed us a flat near an abbatoir
Then one where a man had died
Then one with nowhere to park our car
Then one with no bath inside.
With the undertone of cheering
Of a person who impedes,
He looked straight at us, sneeering,
'You won't find a bath in Leeds'.
'We have come to Leeds from Cambridge.
We have heard that Leeds is nice.
A bath is seen in Cambridge
As an integral device,
So don't tell me that a shower
Is sufficient to meet my needs,'
I said. I received a glower
And 'You won't find a bath in Leeds'.
He fingered a fraying curtain
And I said, 'You can't be sure.
Some things in life are uncertain
And that's what hope is for.
One day I might meet Robert Redford
At Bristol Temple Meads.
I've found baths in Bracknell and Bedford
And I might find a bath in Leeds.'
He replied with a refutation
Which served to increase our pain
But we didn't head for the station
Or run for a rescue train,
Though we felt like trampled flowers
Who'd been set upon by weeds.
We told him to stuff his showers
And we would find a bath in Leeds.
Some people are snide and scathing
And they try to undermine
Your favourite form of bathing
Or the way you write a line.
At night, while you're busy praying
That your every plan succeeds,
There are killjoys somewhere saying,
'You won't find a bath in Leeds'.
A better definition
Might be reading all of Proust,
But the concept of ambition
Has been radically reduced.
While the London wits are burning
Their cash in the Groucho club,
In Yorkshire we're simply yearning
To locate an enamel tub.
I win, Mr Bath Bad Tidings.
I have not one bath but two.
En-suite in the sweet West Ridings
And no bloody thanks to you.
I may never run fast, or tower
Over Wimbledon's top seeds
Or hit sixes like David Gower
But I have found a bath in Leeds.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Bystanding
I don't know if other people have to deal with this issue on a regular basis: how to bridge, or live with the gap between aspiration and capability.
With every new experience you learn new things and yearn for newer ones. And for a while, they all look achievable and attainable. Slowly but surely though, the shortcomings of ability catch up and you realize that sometimes even the most low hanging fruit may be out of reach.
How does one deal with this disappointment? One grew up thinking that if one tried hard enough and long enough one would eventually get there. If you fall short in one pursuit, try another. There is something that everybody is good at, eventually you will find it. Well, what if you can't ? What if you can only be 300th best in anything that you do ?
The negativity gets amplified when it comes to an area of interest. I like wine, and know the theory of making it. And the more I know, I also understand I can't ever make a good bottle. I like pasta, but I can't tell the difference between al dente and al fresco, leave alone make either reproducibly. I can run a marathon, but it will take me 5 hours to finish it. Try as I might, I will not be able to run one in under 4 hours ever. Ideally, and indeed as was the original intent, one should be happy about even making it to the finish line. But then what happens if the part of my brain that stores aspirations refuses to accept this compromise? In fact, if I take that long shouldn't I be looking for something better to do rather than getting up early on Sunday mornings in pursuit of what will at best end in mediocrity ? Is there a trick to ensuring a happy congruence of skills, aspirations and limitations?
This seems to occur at all levels of life. There are always people who are better, and seem to be able to achieve and deliver more with far lesser effort. Is it really possible to be happy with doing your best all the time ? The day you realise you can't get any further, how do you motivate yourself ? Acceptance is a theory. However, does it not inherently mean conceding that not being good enough, is good enough? And acceptance can't be easy either. Lendl never won Wimbledon, is it possible that he ever let go of it? How the heck do you let go of something you want badly once you eventually realize aren't going to make it?
The Stones, kings of excesses, ironically seem to understand it. They sing, "You can't always get what you want/ But if you try, sometimes, you might find/ You get what you need". Is it just as simple as that ?
By,
Nikhil
With every new experience you learn new things and yearn for newer ones. And for a while, they all look achievable and attainable. Slowly but surely though, the shortcomings of ability catch up and you realize that sometimes even the most low hanging fruit may be out of reach.
How does one deal with this disappointment? One grew up thinking that if one tried hard enough and long enough one would eventually get there. If you fall short in one pursuit, try another. There is something that everybody is good at, eventually you will find it. Well, what if you can't ? What if you can only be 300th best in anything that you do ?
The negativity gets amplified when it comes to an area of interest. I like wine, and know the theory of making it. And the more I know, I also understand I can't ever make a good bottle. I like pasta, but I can't tell the difference between al dente and al fresco, leave alone make either reproducibly. I can run a marathon, but it will take me 5 hours to finish it. Try as I might, I will not be able to run one in under 4 hours ever. Ideally, and indeed as was the original intent, one should be happy about even making it to the finish line. But then what happens if the part of my brain that stores aspirations refuses to accept this compromise? In fact, if I take that long shouldn't I be looking for something better to do rather than getting up early on Sunday mornings in pursuit of what will at best end in mediocrity ? Is there a trick to ensuring a happy congruence of skills, aspirations and limitations?
This seems to occur at all levels of life. There are always people who are better, and seem to be able to achieve and deliver more with far lesser effort. Is it really possible to be happy with doing your best all the time ? The day you realise you can't get any further, how do you motivate yourself ? Acceptance is a theory. However, does it not inherently mean conceding that not being good enough, is good enough? And acceptance can't be easy either. Lendl never won Wimbledon, is it possible that he ever let go of it? How the heck do you let go of something you want badly once you eventually realize aren't going to make it?
The Stones, kings of excesses, ironically seem to understand it. They sing, "You can't always get what you want/ But if you try, sometimes, you might find/ You get what you need". Is it just as simple as that ?
By,
Nikhil
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