Blog the TALK

New look

2011-07-20T05:34:00.000-07:00

Someone like you

2011-07-20T03:49:00.000-07:00

I heard that you're settled down

That you found a guy

And you're married now

I heard that your dreams came true.

Guess he gave you things I didn't give to you

Old friend, why are you so shy?

Ain't like you to hold back, or hide from the light

I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited

But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.

I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded

That for me, it isn't over.

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you too

"Don't forget me," I begged,

"I'll remember," you said,

"Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead."

Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead, yeah...

You know how the time flies,

Only yesterday, it was the time of our lives.

We were born and raised in a summer haze

Bound by the surprise of our glory days.

I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited

But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.

I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded

That for me it isn't over.

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you too

"Don't forget me," I begged,

"I'll remember," you said

"Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead."

Nothing compares, no worries or cares

Regrets and mistakes, they are memories made.

Who would have known, how bittersweet this would taste?

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you too

"Don't forget me," I begged

"I'll remember," you said

"Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead."

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you too

"Don't forget me," I begged, "I'll remember," you said,

"Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead."

Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead.

India's turning point in publishing

2011-07-15T04:06:00.001-07:00

This particular cover story in Outlook has ruffled many feathers in the publishing world.

Most of my friends who've read this are clearly miffed, bewildered almost, regarding the arguments made in this article. Have a look at the comments section on that story, some heavy blows being traded, amongst readers:

Especially portions like this, the first of which begins to describe the earlier predicament of today's rockstars in Indian publishing.

"They are the sort of writers who couldn’t get past the security guards outside plush publishing houses."

And this, which make the entire write-up seem like a plug, from Westland's PR firm:

"There’s another reason why Rujuta (Diwekar) preferred to switch to Westland from her more prestigious first publisher (Random House India). (Westland) has a healthy respect for books that sell... (they) know how to keep their bestselling authors happy...

"Westland, according to Rujuta, understands the value of relationships and that’s why she wants to stay with them no matter how hard the others try and tempt her away. "

I read the entire article and I can imagine it provoking reactions from different kinds of people:

1. If I was a struggling writer / wannabe writer, this article would give me immense hope and encouragement.

2. If I was an established author, or even the best-selling type who began his career at least a decade ago, I would be a little annoyed, but not worried. Probably, I would figure out a way to find out if the pricing of my existing books could be re-worked, reduced to a point where they can be made more affordable.

3. If I was a bookseller, I'd just be plain delighted. More books are being sold, and nothing would please me more than seeing more copies getting sold. Moreover, the fact that books are being written in English that's far simpler, means that books are reaching a much wider variety of people. Even first time readers.

4. If I was an publisher, like the ones quoted above, then this article would get me seriously thinking. The fact that high brow literature - high prices, higher quality in English, more sophisticated, bold stories - has not as many takers as those opting for popular, cheaper paperbacks, means that some strategy must be figured to address the new-found demand for simpler, affordable and easier to read literature.

Penguin Books India, has already found a way to address that demand, by launching Metro Reads, the cheaper, light paperbacks. Although titled Metro Reads, they're likely to be as popular in the interiors as well.

Dear Mr Minister, we're all in this together.

2011-07-14T04:46:00.000-07:00

I'm so bored.

Everybody around me is reacting in a way that's making me want to strangle them.

Last night, I didn't even twitch a muscle when I came to know about the Mumbai bomb blasts. 21 dead people is too small a number to panic about. Maybe it's my journalism degree that's making me think that way?

But wait, that's not entirely why I'm bored. It's probably the reactions to the bomb blasts that I'm bored of. Mumbai has been fucked again by faceless terrorists.

The hullabaloo and cacophony on social media is so predictable. The chest-beating, the discussions about how our government does nothing, politicians are corrupt, we need more security...

Which is why, I did not log into Facebook and Twitter. Not until midnight.

Bomb blasts produce predictable reactions, especially from people in Bombay. I can close my eyes and visualize exactly how people will crowd outside shops selling TVs, mouths hanging open in shock, looking at hysteric TV news anchors reporting ground zero. The anchors will be under pressure to extract uncomfortable sound-bytes. Arnab Goswami will run out of breath in the Times Now studio. Big, bold captions will announce the number of people dead.

And there'll be raging debates on Twitter. "Hang the politicians, our ISI is a failure, I want a change of Government", etc.

Annoyed at having so much bullshit coming my way, I should have ideally switched off my laptop and gone off to sleep. But I made a mistake. I asked a woman on Twitter to shut up and stop making the netas a punching bag, everytime somebody bombs the city. She said sarcastically, "Arcopol, like every non-Mumbaikar, you can only judge. Good goin". I did not reply to her. I don't intend to argue with people who do not know proper English.

Some things I don't understand. Like the difference between the words 'judge', 'observe' and 'opine'.

"I'm not judging you, I'm just giving you my opinion", "I don't mean to be judgmental, it's just an observation"...

Sigh.

I'm so absolutely bored of this hashtag-based activism that's clogged my Twitter time-line yesterday. It's become clear that people generally are choots. Very confused about what they want. Very weak, very sensitive. The milk they consume at breakfast curdles if they see some gory pictures from the blasts in the morning newspapers. They think the media is full of assholes. They think Barkha Dutt is incompetent.

Dear Viewer / Common Man / Whatever-the-fuck-you-are, why don't you change the channel or switch off your TV? Or, for chrissakes why don't you run a TV channel by yourself?

People are hypocrites, and this point gets proved everytime an incident of this nature takes place. They'll curse television channels, the news anchors, the media, but they'll continue watching. If they continue watching, the TRPs will boil, frothing to an extent that editors of news channels will tom-tom, "THIS IS WHAT VIEWERS WANT!"

And then, dear Viewer, more hysteria will come your way. Which brings me to mention, that I was pleasantly surprised when some journalists pointed out that there was far more discipline in the way aftermath of the tragedy was handled by the cops, hospitals and the ministers who held the press conference. It's the only thing I'm cheering for, in this entire mayhem.

So while ministers and government officials have grown up, We The People have a long way to go. An idiot on my friend list wants all of us to 'Stand Up' against terrorism. Sure, I will stand-up. I'm standing right now. And I notice you're standing up too. But oh look! There goes off another bomb. Oh there's one more. We're all standing up - who doesn't, Miss? - but why don't you get this straight: the terrorist will just find a way to do execute us. Bring on the security checks, bring on the security cameras, make the Intelligence more intelligent, but just like rodents looking for food, the terrorists always find a way. That's why they are called terrorists.

Another idiot on my friends list wants me to put up an absolutely black profile to show that I condemn the blasts. You fucker, who doesn't condemn the blasts? Everyone does. I get so fucking annoyed everytime there's a story in the paper saying, 'PM condemns blasts, guilty will be punished'. Fuck off, Mr Prime Minister. You've spent crores to punish Ajmal Kasab and the bugger thinks death is sweeter than the chai served to him in prison.

My bet is he will make his debut in Bigg Boss next year. Maybe he'll land a role in the Indian version of Harry Potter, where he'll be called as The Boy Who Lived.

I blame Twitter and Facebook for all this boredom, this frustration, this annoyance with what's happening around. Had I not logged in, I wouldn't have seen all these pseudo expressions of concern floating all around. Just because people have platforms to express themselves, means the innards of their brain are exposed and boy, oh, boy - what an eyesore it is.

Why don't you put a hand on your heart and apologize to your favourite punching bag: "Dear minister, we're all in this together. We're all fucked."

The ten commandments of telecasting film industry award shows

2011-01-23T10:47:00.000-08:00

The awards season is here.

Let’s get one thing straight. Very few of the top stars remain at the awards venue throughout the evening. They come, perform, see some trophies being given away - including their own, that's an important condition for their attendance - and then they disappear. While at the venue they smile at the stage, clap every now and then to ensure they're politically correct, and they also make expressions that indicate that they did understand Sajid Khan’s jokes. They also try not to contort their face too much during every gay act on stage. All in all, they try to make it appear as if this is the best awards function they've attended.

So what you watch on TV is a carefully stitched together montage of expressions and reactions, recorded through the course of one evening. After having seen these shows ad nauseum, I have arrived a few thumb rules than an editor must follow when processing the recorded footage for telecast. Some of them are as follows:

1. Thou shall always cut to Amitabh Bachchan’s expression’s when Rekha comes on stage, or even if there's a whiff of her mentioned. Works vice versa too. Lifetime achievement award for either of them? Did they stand up and applaud? No? Yes? Either ways, send the clip to the news channels. Breaking news. Amitabh (still) stands erect for Rekha.

2. Thou shall follow the same rule when Ranbir is dancing (pan camera to Deepika), Aishwarya (Salman Khan, Vivek Oberoi pe zoom in. Super zoom in into Amitabh Bachchan), Kareena Kapoor (Shahid Kapoor pe focus) and Priyanka Chopra (Shahid Kapoor again!) Each clip will be used in the marketing activity prior to the telecast, by using them in on-air promos, and looping them on Saas, Bahu aur Saazish.

3. Thou shall ensure you get some shots of rival actresses clapping when competition is performing. If Sonam is dancing, capture Deepika and Piggy Chops’ expressions. If Piggy Chops is giving an acceptance speech, cut to Kareena Kapoor's expressions. Zoom in close. Is that a smirk? Is that a shrug? Is that smoke bellowing out of her ears? Exercise the video editing suite! Zoom in.

4. Thou shall cut to either Rani, Kajol or Shah Rukh Khan clapping, whenever Karan Johar is on stage. We Are Family, after all. And whenever there's a question asked, "Karan why are you still single?", cut to SRK's embarassed expression.

5. Thou shall immediately capture the disappointment on the loser nominees' faces, when the trophy goes to someone else. Preferably show images of someone who is clapping. Arre bhai, sportsmanship bhi toi baat banti hai ki nahi?

6. Thou shall insert video clip of either of the Khans, or the Chopras, clapping furiously with a glee on their face, whenever a winner is announced for an award which doesn’t hold much merit in the eyes of stars, e.g. best background score, or best sound design.

7. Thou shall not search for Aamir Khan in the audience. He doesn’t attend awards, even if he’s slated to win the best actor or even best editor. Right Anusha?

8. Thou shall zoom into Ashutosh Gowariker’s facial expressions every time Sajjid Khan speaks. Thou shall photoshop smoke or fumes next to Gowariker's ears, click a picture and circulate it over e-mail.

9. Thou shall show the show-stopper performance of the evening, in the Coming Up Next section every time the programme goes in for a commercial break.

10. Thou shall keep soundtracks of Star Wars, Jurassic Park ready for use, every time an award is announced and the recipient walks up on stage to collect it.

The Bigg Boss tapes you didn't see on TV

2011-01-09T12:03:00.000-08:00

Now that Bigg Boss is over, I thought it would be appropriate to provide transcripts from edited footage. Here's one between Hashmit Patel and Tabela Anderson, where the Bollywood actor, infamous for the Riya Insane MMS scandal, offered Tabela a role in a ‘yoga film’ that he wanted to independently produce.

Unedited transcripts below:

(Hashmit Patel and Tabela Anderson are doing power yoga on the lawn inside the Bigg Boss house. Both are moaning in pleasure, as the rest of the house inmates finish their morning chores.)

Tabela: Oooh...This feels so good.

Hashmit: Doesn’t it? That’s power yoga for you. I’m surprised you’ve never tried it before.

Tabela: Aaaaaaah...(inaudible) I think I’ve tried. Tommy once heard about yoga from some saint he met in India and there was this film called Guru, right? Even Julia is now into this Hindu thingy (inaudible)...so are you a Yoga instructor or something?

Hashmit: Almost. I also act, when some actress agrees to do a film with me. But I can best describe myself as an independent film maker.

Tabela: Oh really? What kind of films do you make? (moans, as she rubs her calf muscle)

Hashmit: You’re in luck, lady. They’re all about yoga. Lying down, stretching your body, twisting your hands, spreading your legs...(inaudible) I shoot them in India, where its hot, one is not required to wear too many clothes. Most importantly, I don’t release them on DVDs, you know. Yoga is best circulated free of cost, through MMS!

(Hashmit squishes some grass on the Bigg Boss lawn, clearly remembering a previous incident)

Tabela: Oohh...nice. But do people have mobile phones in this country?

Hashmit: Of course! What do you take us Indians for, CJ Parker?

(Both laugh out loud, looking upwards towards the sky)

Hashmit: You know, I think you’re doing this power yoga really well. Why don’t you shoot a yoga film with me! Indians love you and you wouldn’t have to do any embarrassing dhak dhak steps.

Tabela: You think I’ll be able to? After all, I’m just an amateur at this.

Hashmit: No, no...not at all. You’ll be awesome. And c’mon, you’re not an amateur, you have lots of experience! We can get evicted from the Big Boss house together...

Tabela: Well, I don’t know about that...my contract with Viagra-com18 is just for...

Hashmit: Contract? What contract? Yoga is all about contact, baby, not contract...

Tabela: (inaudible) I don’t know, do you have some prior experience at shooting yoga films?

Hashmit: Actually I won’t be shooting. I’ll also do yoga with you. My cameraman is very good, he’s the baap of all yoga film-makers!

(Dolly Bindra’s shrill voice in the background: “Baap kisko bola bey, baap kisko bola?!!”)

Review: No One Killed Jessica

2011-01-09T10:47:00.000-08:00

It is difficult to give No One Killed Jessica less than a 'good' rating. Yet, if you look at a broader picture, it is a challenging film to sit though, considering that you know what the ending is. Sabrina Lall did get justice. And the late Jessica Lall's soul, now rests in peace.

Yet, Raj Kumar Gupta's courtroom-cum-journalistic-investigation drama makes for gripping viewing, thanks to good dialogues, performances from the supporting cast and impeccably good writing. In a way, it appears to be one of those screenplays where there has been little influence from powers-to-be and the director's vision has been intact. That's a wonderful thing.

I saw the movie in a packed Eros cinema on a Sunday evening and the film had enough moments that got the audience clapping, laughing (at the dark humour) and turn silent in recollection of passions that the case rustled up on news channels some years ago.

Amit Trivedi's music and background score beautifully capture those emotions. It rescues the film in a major way - from the very dull Vidya Balan (the real Sabrina Lall looks so much more energetic and headstrong) and lends great personality to the city of Delhi and one of its bitchwanti reporters, played by Rani Mukherji. Rani is good, fumes expletives very often and her character is identical to that of Barkha Dutt.

The last 20 minutes of the film, involving the candlelight protests are possibly its weakest. But you can't blame the film-makers for this, since they've been honest with the subject. It's just that, as an audience we've seen those visuals a little too often. An ignited candle has possibly become like an accessory now - stand with one for hours and you've made a statement of having stood up for justice, or simply been patriotic. It's become an easy recourse for a citizen who doesn't have time to press hard for long term solutions.

The original hero of the Jessica Lall case is only thanked towards the end of the film. That's the team from Tehelka, who worked relentlessly in exposing the brutalities of a system while working on this case.

In summary, I think that after the last few months, which damaged the reputation of many journalists - thanks to Open - here's a thumbs up to a film that shows that journalism for justice and the larger public interest - despite employing unethical means - is something worth cheering for.

No One Killed Jessica

Rating: * * *

Review: Paranormal Activity 2

2011-01-05T07:45:00.000-08:00

Paranormal Activity 2 is not a great horror film, but it still packs in good thrills that commands mandatory viewing only in cinemas. Those of you who are planning to download it (or already have) to watch it on your laptops with the lights switched off, here’s a word of advice - don’t. You’re really ruining a film that seems already wasted in its second instalment.

The first film, Paranormal Activity was spooky for its unique treatment, inventive use of handheld and stationary cameras and a very clever online marketing campaign. Anticipation levels therefore reached a crescendo and audiences made a beeline to the plexes wanting to be spooked. That’s the holy grail of a horror film - we watch it because we want to get spooked. And the film managed to do it, successfully.

However the formula becomes clear and overused in this prequel, Paranormal Activity -2. The film is more or less a series of thrills, each coming at regular intervals and the director does us a favor by heightening the hum of the background score, whenever it happens. The story unfolds in the house of Katie’s sister, Kristi who lives her husband Daniel, daughter Ali and their newly born baby, Hunter. After their house gets mysteriously ransacked, the family decides to install security cameras in all their rooms. Strange things begin to happen as an invisible entity begins to create chaos.

About 15 minutes into the film, you begin guessing where’s the next thrill going to come from. What’s the next thing that'll fall off the hook? Will this be a thud in the bathroom, or will it be the kitchen? Or will it be the banging of the door? Who will the dog stare and cower in fear?

However, despite making the source of the thrills predictable, director Tod Williams succeeds in making you jump out of your seats every now and then, and provides a thrilling finish to the film and links it neatly to the first one. That’s a commendable achievement. The director has the format to thank for that, and the director of the first film, Oren Peli.

So yes, go watch this one at the theatres. My only worry is that Paranormal Activity’s formula may have become overused now - thanks to its lack of a coherent and gripping storyline. Although I wish there are no more sequels after this, I hear that Paramount Pictures has already signed Oren Peli to create a third film, which will be a prequel to Part 2.

Rating: ***

Baby, you're a rich man

2010-11-28T11:47:00.000-08:00

Just as David Fincher's masterpiece The Social Network is about to end, Jesse Eisenberg who plays Facebook co-founder Mark Zuckerberg, is seen making a last ditch attempt at sending a friend request to a girl who once dumped him. He continues to refresh the page to see whether she has accepted. Meanwhile, the subtitles state the post script of the film - what eventually happened to the characters involved in the lawsuit. And as the camera zooms closer to Zuckerberg's face, it finally rests close to him as the final subtitle states that he is the youngest billionaire in the world.

What makes this entire sequence top notch, is the addition of The Beatles' Baby you're a rich man in the background score. The lyrics are apt and the music, just perfect for a scene of this nature.

In this post, I reproduce the lyrics. Read them and mull over Zuckerberg's state of mind at the end of the film.

Baby, you're a rich man - The Beatles

How does it feel to be

One of the beautiful people?

Now that you know who you are

What do you want to be?

And have you travelled very far?

Far as the eye can see.

How does it feel to be

One of the beautiful people?

How often have you been there?

Often enough to know.

What did you see, when you were there?

Nothing that doesn't show.

Baby you're a rich man,

Baby you're a rich man too.

You keep all your money in a big brown bag inside a zoo.

What a thing to do.

Baby you're a rich man,

Baby you're a rich man too.

How does it feel to be

One of the beautiful people?

Tuned to a natural E

Happy to be that way.

Now that you've found another key

What are you going to play?

Baby you're a rich man,

Baby you're a rich man too.

You keep all your money in a big brown bag inside a zoo.

What a thing to do.

Baby you're a rich man...

How to get your dad to buy you laptop

2010-11-25T06:38:00.000-08:00

I pore over the screen of my netbook. My dad, the only other person in the room, realizes what a terrible mistake he's made by buying me one.

"The fonts appear so small," he says. "You'll strain your eyes, if you sit for long hours in front of the netbook."

I shrug and carry on with my work. I enjoy the comfort and coziness that a netbook offers. It is light in weight, has longer battery life (compared to a laptop) and once you stash it's hard disk with movies, songs and e-books, you feel like taking a vacation.

But my father is not impressed. He continues looking into the netbook screen, from over my shoulder. "I should have seen this coming. You'd get addicted to this device and its small fonts are going to ruin your eyesight."

Annoyed, I snap at him: "So what do we do? Are you going to buy me a laptop?"

"Yes," he says.

\m/ :)

#barkhagate: Protests in 140 characters leave no space for grey areas

2010-11-23T21:03:00.000-08:00

Barkha Dutt, one of the icons of Indian news television, has spent a generous part of the last few days, patiently replying to tweets, many of which express their loss of faith in her, and are demanding answers for her involvement in a controversial expose.

Her active presence on Twitter, has ensured that all ire is directed straight at her and she cannot dodge any of it. Search for '#barkhagate' on Twitter, and you sense that Twitter users, bloggers are baying for her blood, questioning her ethics and demanding her resignation.

Her reply to each tweet is calm and calculated. Like this one: "Ethics should be measured by coverage of issues. Diplomatic friendliness to get information from a source is very different. To get news one speaks to all kinds of people, dirty or clean, if they are a source of real time updates. That is not a crime."

But Twitter is a rather merciless place. Rohan Babu, head of social media at digital agency Media2Win says, "Once Twitter users take a stand against someone, the negative publicity can spread virally to all other media in a short span of time. Let's see how long protests in #barkhagate last. We're living in times where one controversy is only waiting to be suppressed by another."

Shubho Sengupta, head of digital media at Rediffusion Y&R agrees and says that #barkhagate is not going to affect her in the long run. "By replying to tweets, I think Barkha is handling the issue very intelligently and she should continue the discussions. But most tweets are very impulsive rants or attacks against her, they aren’t asking her the right questions."

How will they? Most users of Twitter are probably unaware of the lengths journalists have to go to, the shoulders they rub, the relationships they build, to bring their viewers fresh news everyday. After all, exclusive interviews don’t just walk into your studio. For many, the printed word in a newspaper is sacrosanct, coming from journalists who have access to 'the truth'.

Veteran media critic, V Gangadhar says, "This controversy has shown that the media is not so sacrosanct after all." He adds, "For long, the Letters to the Editor was the only section where you could complain about an erroneous report, or give feedback. Social media has changed all that, since criticism happens on public fora."

The controversy over paid news, the relentless play of the ‘breaking news’ on Hindi news channels and the coverage of the 26/11 terror attacks are only some of the instances where the media has come under sharp criticism.

Which is why, since the last few years, the growing adoption of new media - blogs, citizen journalism websites and Twitter - has thrown open a parallel source of news, not dependant entirely on journalists. It's a rather crucial phase in the history of journalism, when the media's reputation of having the final word is being challenged.

"I think #barkhgate has given people legitimate grounds to question the neutrality of the mainstream media," says Santosh Desai, CEO, Future Brands. "The blackout of reporting on the scandal by major newspapers and news channels, was the biggest reason that angered social media users."

But there is also criticism of the kind of debate that new media is generating. Gangadhar describes it as 'very Right-wing, unbalanced and extreme'. "In general, audiences and readers expect journalists to be all righteous creatures, black and white; they haven't been able to accept them in shades of grey. "

Desai says that people must read every issue with some sort of sensitivity and maturity of the context in which it took place. "#barkhagate hasn’t grasped that issue with a certain sensitivity required, or crafted it like a debate. Rather it is more of a personalized attack."

Still, social media is the true manifestation of a ‘free press’, says Shishir Joshi, former journalist and founder, Journalism Mentor Foundation for Excellence in Journalism. "Media organizations with dotted connections across businesses often find it tough to carry stories such as the allegedly grey role senior journalists have played in the spectrum drama. Social media, thus offers them an option of carrying these (by quoting the 'tsunami of buzz in the web world') and yet, not hurting relationships (which has been the case currently)."

In a way, it is hoped that the current backlash against mainstream media can only help journalists pull up their socks and be more accountable and accessible, because a certain Big Brother – the audience - is watching. "A free press is the strength of a vibrant democracy. We must admire its strength and be wary of its weakness (absence of control). Let us be skeptical, not cynical," says Joshi.

(An edited version of the above piece appeared in Daily News Analysis (DNA), Mumbai on 24 November.)

Image courtesy: Satish Acharya, Mid-Day

Ever tasted Izzat Ka Falooda?

2010-11-15T08:28:00.000-08:00

There are certain terms in Hindi language that continue to amaze me. Mere expressions have been converted into delicacies, recipes that we would never try out.

For example, whoever invented the phrase 'Izzat ka falooda'.

Izzat in English, translates to synonyms such as respect, stature and image - all of which are shredded to bits thanks to the Hindi language which makes a delicacy out of it. That too, not a spicy or obnoxious or salty one, but a dessert! We're talking about falooda here, something which is made with a mixture of all things good - nuts, raisins, ice cream, vermicelli, cream, kheer and lots more, depending on how rich it can get. Basically, the term falooda conjures up images of all things so delicious, something we so lovingly indulge in from roadside vendors which nams like Gupta Ice Cream or Mewad Ice Cream. Yet the term izzat ka falooda suddenly has all the trappings of all things regressive.

Think about it. Film titles! Mango Ka Falooda could have been a nice Sanjeev Kapur recipe, Ishq Ka Falooda could have been a typical Farah Khan entertainer, but Izzat Ka Falooda is so, so David Dhawan.

Incidentally, it was Dhawan's film which coined the term Ande ka funda, which at least to me, has produced no 'Funda'mentals. An egg is white and yellow inside - the only fundas I know about it are that it is prone to mood swings, depending on how its cooked. Boiled (calm, soft), omlette (pissed, diseased), sunny side up (smiley and happy).

The story doesn't end here. What's a good Indian meal without some curd? Enter another Hindi language coinage - 'Dimaag Ka Dahi'. It's like giving a fatwa to dahi, which has always cooled tempers inside the confines of our belly.

When you say, "Mere dimaag ka dahi mat kar!" it means you're saying, 'Don't fuck my brain, ok?'

Fuck and dahi (curd) can be strange bedfellows. Come to think of it, a curd churned out of flesh from your brain could be disgusting, but I'm sure that guy who anchors Man versus Wild on Discovery Channel, will find still find some intelligent things to say about it, such as, "This is very rich in proteins! Brain curd is actually great for enhancing your memory. Like upping your 200 GB hard disk to a 400GB one!"

Dear Hindi, oh Hindi...what other culinary items have you prepared for us?

We were such fashion disasters

2010-07-13T03:09:00.000-07:00

''Kya umar thi, kya samaa tha, kya zamaana tha''

Nostalgia can be a great leveler. For example, when you meet up with friends from school, it is nostalgia that brings you together.

No matter wherever you are now in life, no matter how much you earn, what car you drive and how many credit cards you own, there was a time when you were on par with your peers - at least, you were told to believe so - and the solitary unifier between everybody in class, was the school uniform.

The fucking school uniform.

Its made fortunes for detergent companies, given our mothers sleepless nights over its cleanliness and has proved to be an excellent resting bed for dust, dodgeball stains and scars from our Physical Education class.

Without a doubt, we looked much hotter on Traditional Day, and we took our chances in admiring our classmates. The women suddenly looked prettier, the saree firmly accentuating every sign of hormonal change.

I remember, it was Teachers' Day, I was in Class X and my classmate, who was my first ever crush, walked into the classroom wearing a black saree, necklace, earrings, et al. It's one of the most gorgeous sights I've ever seen and one that I'll probably remember on my death-bed, when life turns into a swift slideshow.

In summary, we really relished every opportunity to wear 'civil dress' when we met the same classmates outside school, even at tuition class.

When I meet the same classmates today and compare what we look like with what we used to be, I realize that we've indeed come a long way. I see this not just in them, but even while browsing random Facebook albums. Try this exercise sometime - compare their latest profile picture with the their oldest picture in their Facebook photos. The human body, you'll see has a strange way of reinventing itself. And this is true, despite a deliberate make-over done at a salon. Sure, external influences play a huge role - straightened hair, Brylcreem are things we wouldn't see in school - although its different with kids these days - but there is no denying that the human body has an in-built salon triggering change.

It is this process of constant change amazes me. Every second, some muscle is making way for the other, some skin is giving way to new, some hair strand is getting bored with the jungle it is in.

The process is similar to the formation of the earth and its continents. Europe and Africa were probably interlocked at some point of time, but now they are separate. After we touch puberty, our hormones are in a constant state of Waka Waka, making us hotter, fatter and if we treat ourselves well, more sexier.

But while the body is working so hard at it, passing through various stages of development, we've covered it up in clothing that has also passed through various levels of 'tolerance'.

I call it tolerance, because when I look back at the photos from my college days, I see what fashion disasters we all were.

''Shit. How could I wear that trouser with that shirt. They just don't go together!''

This is more or less, my reaction everytime I go through my old photo albums.

Part of the reason could be that during those times, we wore what our parents bought us. And now, thanks to our employment, regular pay-cheques and a debit card to boot, we do our own shopping.

If we had a chance to go back in time and change something, I think most of us - the working professionals at least - would completely change our wardrobe.

(I'm talking only about clothing here. Given a chance, we'd like to change many things, wouldn't we?)

Tea and biscuits, anyone?

2010-06-11T20:29:00.000-07:00

Whatever happened to the ritual of friends coming over home to an evening of tea, biscuits, farsan and good conversation? Our daddies and mommies do it, but when we become them, we probably won't.

It is a strange time to be me.

After about six-seven months of smooth sailing, I'm suddenly jobless.

Without a doubt, joblessness is a difficult state to be in, especially if you're living in Bombay. Your friends will ask you to explain your situation and say, 'Let's meet over coffee and discuss'.

'Catching up' over a cup of coffee costs you at least Rs 50, an amount which isn't too difficult for you to shell out at this moment, but it could be a coffee that would go down as a regressive one, in a few weeks from now if you don't land a job which pays at least as much as the last one did, if not more.

Friends, dependents in your family, the whole fucking society - they all make joblessness even more uncomfortable. Facebook albums do the most damage. Status updates from friends going on a holiday. Europe. South Africa. Australia. Singapore shopping binge. Photographs uploaded by people you know, probably showing them holding their bottle of beer as a trophy, chilling at the coolest lounge bar in town. Your guy friends posing with semi-naked women (who it turns out, are colleagues, much to your mom's horror, making her comment, ''Draupadi's vastraharan would be so pointless in today's times. You won't be able to spoof it either.'').

Your friends wonder why you won't join them over the weekend spending binge. Rs 250 - daylight robbery at the multiplex to watch a movie. Request denied. Long island Iced Tea at Hard Rock? Rs 300. Request denied. ''Let's go to Blue Frog!'' Entry Rs 500. Assured: A place to stand. Want to sit? Book a table. Enjoy your meal. Estimated expenses per head? Rs 500 at least. Request denied.

You feel that the world has suddenly become rich.

And it is true. There are some things money can't buy. Provided you have the willpower and better sense to tell yourself - this is not worth the price. And in Mumbai, depending on your social circle, you might get the opportunity to tell that often. After a point of time, you're an outcast. Which is exactly the state I'm in.

Does that mean I would have indulged in the above mentioned activities with a regular job? Yes and No. (More on that, later.)

It's at times like these I wonder whatever happened to the simple pleasures of life.

When was the last time you invited someone home for tea? Tea, biscuits, chaat, conversation?

My cousins in Kolkata would be surprised to read this, but I've come to realize that the social circle I've come to mingle with over the last three years in Mumbai, has almost NEVER done a tea/coffee evening get-together at their house. Whatever happened to VISITING friends over the weekend for an evening of simple, good conversation?

I've tried. And unless there's alcohol or a party to go along with it, the request has been more often than not, declined.

''What's the occasion?'' I've been asked. ''Who all are coming?'' ''Why suddenly?''

I'm amused. As a kid, I was witness to frequent visits by family friends who would hop over home - unannounced - and on most occasions, we'd be delighted to host them for the evening. Provided they went back home for dinner ;)

You may argue that on weekdays, one can't pull this off. But its on the weekends I realize, that there's a dramatic difference in the way people behave. On weekend, home is just not where the heart is. And even if it is, you don't want to share it with anyone.

Does this change after marriage? Does this change after you buy a house and you feel okay not only to have impulsive guests, but also planned dinners?

Bombay's greatest asset

2010-03-05T11:17:00.000-08:00

It's been almost a week that I'm back to commuting 4 hours daily from Ambarnath to my office in Lower Parel.

The purpose is two pronged - one, I'd like to be the night watchman in my own house, since my parents are in Kolkata for my cousin's wedding. And two, it's not everyday that you get a sense of ownership of a 1BHK+Terrace flat, all to yourself.

The implications have been two pronged too. My meals have become irregular; the other night I drank half a litre of Maaza, before gobbling up three eggs (bad imitations of sunny sides up, they were like a solar eclipse, rather).

But I get more time to read. And peacefully too. Like I'm reading Vikram Chandra's beautifully written debut, Love and Longing in Bombay. The other day, I finished Sidin Vadukut's hilarious first novel Dork.

It's made me realise that for me, independence is perhaps the way forward. I'll work out the meals bit, but nothing beats the feeling of coming home to a house that's just your own and not being shared by another person.

That doesn't mean I'm a loner - I enjoy company and I have a good circle of friends who I hang out with - but coming home is a different thing. There are just certain things I want to do - read some chapters of a book, watch Arnab Goswami on Times Now, observe Telebrands post mid-night and - hold your breath - tune into some of the daily soap operas to find out what the nation is watching. (Don't belch. When you're in a business about consumers, you've gotta be familiar with what's tickling them.)

Still, this same independence can be a happy and non-stressful one when it is close to office. Four hours stolen from my every day in the form of a nightmarish train ride home - that is one compromise I'm unwilling to make for long.

But living alone in Bombay is fucking expensive. Unless, if you're an RJ or a model, or you have a 'white collar' job.

Shit. I must shift to Bangalore. Life's unbelievably cheaper, or so I hear. Some friends there share a bungalow for a monthly rent of Rs 11,000. We pay the same rent for 225 sq ft flat in Lower Parel.

But then, well. Bombay is Bombay.

This has been my chronic dilemma over the last two-three years. Want to shift out of Bombay, but can't think of a life outside Bombay and living with people who are not Mumbai-kars.

So maybe it's true when they say, "It's all about the people. It's all about the people."

Bombay is a city that is all about its people. It's own charms are too diffused and inflated beyond it deserves. I think those charms died in the 1950s, when the Parsis were the face of Bombay. That was some life, some charisma, some style to this city.

Since the 1960s, Bombay conjures up images of partisan politics and saffron armies, the mills and the landowners, considering the real estate El Dorado that it's become. The soul of the city is therefore, only it's people and its they who make the city tick.

There's a reason why Bombay is the commercial capital of India. So much business comes here, purely because this city has the resources to pull it off. Whether these are ill-fed resources or not, is a different question. And by now, you already know that they are ill-fed and do not enjoy a standard of living comparable to that, say, of a Chandigarh or New Delhi.

So then, here's to the people of this city. Bombay's greatest asset.

In defence of the Shiv Sena

2010-02-15T23:50:00.000-08:00

You have to give it to the Shiv Sena. All along, when they created all this hoo-haa over My Name is Khan’s release, we thought they were fuming over SRK’s remarks about Pakistani players and IPL.

Not true.

I'm sure there is something called as ‘Won’t-let-you-watch-it-since-its-a-bad-film’ clause in our constitution.

The Shiv Sainiks already knew it’s a terrible film - thanks to the large network of pirated DVD hawkers they help flourish. It is perhaps Karan Johar’s worst film and the Shiv Sena votebank would be cheated of precious ticket money, bringing more gloom over what is not a very rosy picture of household expenses these days.

So the accusation on SRK and Karan Johar was of cheating (Tu gaddaar aahe!) and not what we thought (Tu gaddaar aahe!).

I’m also told Thackeray wanted to wrestle his way into the lead role of the film. He had set up his goons to convince Karan Johar to change an important dialogue of the film.

From ‘My Name is Khan and I’m not a terrorist’, he wanted it changed to ‘My Name is Thackeray and I am a terrorist. (Based on a true story)'. This was when the film was in its scripting stages. But when he saw the first cut of the film, he suddenly turned messiah for all cinegoers. He couldn’t tell Karan Johar straight on his face that his film sucked. Hence, all this gaali-galoch.

I’ve just come back from a late night show of MNIK at the Regal cinema. I generally do not give advice to people on what to watch, what to skip.

But this time, I will. Do not watch this film.

Yes, it has its high points- SRK is very good, as is his chemistry with Kajol (Chemistry text books in school should have their photos on the cover, rather than atoms and molecules), Ravi K Chandran’s photography is a treat, as is Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy’s music (Sajda sent me on cloud nine).

But when the Exit signs in the auditorium start glowing more brightly than the events unfolding on screen, you know that the director has completely lost it. It’s not Karan Johar alone to blame – his intent is sincere and heartwarming, as is his direction in most parts - it’s Shibani Bhatija’s screenplay which is a complete letdown.

(Spoiler alert!)

The plot sounds sweet when you hear it for the first time – a young Muslim man with Asperger’s syndrome travels across the United States to meet the President and tell him that he is not a terrorist – but when you walk out of the theatre, you feel cheated. Meet the President! For what? You told him you’re not terrorist. He already knows it, which is why you’ve been allowed at such close proximity to him. Has it changed the fate of millions of Muslims in the States? I’m not sure.

Why does Kajol do a sudden about-turn accusing him that his surname was responsible for her son's death? And the scene where her son dies, is a clear example of high-school bullies going overboard, rather than a racist attack.

The film's biggest weakness is that it does not generate sympathy for its characters. When Mandira (Kajol) dumps Rizwan (SRK), you do not feel sorry for him. You do not feel ecstatic when help pours in for the Georgia flood victims.

And when Rizwan is stabbed out of the blue and there's a melodramatic hospital sequence, you find yourself groaning. Ditto in the scene where Kajol breaks down with her dead son in her arms. Because you know it, the director has overdone it.

There is buzz about the box-office collections of MNIK overtaking that of 3 Idiots.
I think its complete hogwash. Spin doctors are behind this new trend of tom-tomming Rs 100 crores, 200 crores within weeks of a film’s release.

3 Idiots, like most blockbusters, made its money by repeat viewing. MNIK certainly does not fall in that category. It would be a telling statement of the viewing tastes of the audiences of today, if they supported mediocrity like this.

Highpoint of the film: When Mandira asks Rizwan to marry her. My cheeks started aching, I was blushing so much.

Lowpoint of the film: SRK being stabbed. I wanted to head to the Exit door.

ROFL moment of the film: The scene where Khan walks into the kitchen and finds Mandira there chopping vegetables. Says, "Mandira, can we have sex, please?"

Verdict: **

The perfectly outrageous motion picture

2010-02-13T20:15:00.000-08:00

I've had the most fantastic past two hours watching Sidney Lumet's 1976 film Network. I don't intend to write a review of the film here - I'm speechless right now, to be honest - and I've had similar feelings after watching three of my all-time favourite films, Sunset Boulevard, Shawshank Redemption and The Clockwork Orange.

Network inevitably adds to that list.

A common thread between all three films is that after I've seen the film, I've felt richer - in emotion, intellect and wisdom - thanks to powerful screenplay writing. The performances are equally astounding and Network is far more closer to life than I imagined, thanks my own closeness in some manner to the working of the television and media industry.

And would you believe it...when I begun watching the film, I thought it was the original of Ram Gopal Varma's Rann. Thank God, it isn't. It can't be.

I'm pasting below some lines from the film. Each line is self explanatory and can be etched in gold. I do not need to explain the context in which they were told. They're statements by themselves, a quality which timeless screenplays have always had, apart from being able to project and predict a future which we now live in. I think this is why some lines are called classics.

Enjoy.

"I want you to get mad. I don't want you to protest, I don't want you to riot, I don't want you to write to your Congressman, because I wouldn't know what to tell you to write. I don't know what to do about the depression, the inflation, the Russians, or the crime in the streets. All I know is that first... You've got to get mad." - Howard Beale, the lead protagonist in Network (A video of this dialogue will do complete justice to this piece. So here's the link.)

"Am I getting through to you, Mr. Beale? You get up on your little twenty-one inch screen and howl about America and democracy. There is no America. There is no democracy. There is only IBM, and ITT, and AT&T, and DuPont, Dow, Union Carbide, and Exxon. Those *are* the nations of the world today." - Arthur Jansen, promoter of the network, to Howard Beale

"I was married for four years, and pretended to be happy; and I had six years of analysis, and pretended to be sane. My husband ran off with his boyfriend, and I had an affair with my analyst, who told me I was the worst lay he'd ever had. I can't tell you how many men have told me what a lousy lay I am. I apparently have a masculine temperament. I arouse quickly, consummate prematurely, and can't wait to get my clothes back on and get out of that bedroom. I seem to be inept at everything except my work. I'm goddamn good at my work and so I confine myself to that. All I want out of life is a 30 share and a 20 rating." - Diana Christensen, programming head of UBS Television

"It's too late, Diana. There's nothing left in you that I can live with. You're one of Howard's humanoids. If I stay with you, I'll be destroyed. Like Howard Beale was destroyed. Like Laureen Hobbs was destroyed. Like everything you and the institution of television touch is destroyed. You're television incarnate, Diana: Indifferent to suffering; insensitive to joy. All of life is reduced to the common rubble of banality. War, murder, death are all the same to you as bottles of beer. And the daily business of life is a corrupt comedy. You even shatter the sensations of time and space into split seconds and instant replays. You're madness, Diana. Virulent madness. And everything you touch dies with you. But not me. Not as long as I can feel pleasure, and pain... and love." - Max Schumacher, Diana's lover and retrenched newsroom editor of UBS Television
There are many more memorable lines and I suggest you watch the film to get a sense of what I'm talking about.

For starters, here's a link to its official trailer.

Notes from the Strand Book Festival

2010-02-12T23:52:00.000-08:00

I’m absolutely delighted with the collection of books I picked up at the Strand Book Festival. I went there on the Festival's second day itself. Can’t say I’d been saving for this – I now buy books on a regular basis, Superfreakonomics, The Book Thief, A Case of Exploding Mangoes are some recent buys – but generally, browsing in a room full of books, with bibliophiles from in and around Bombay, can be quite therapeutic. For example, that’s one reason many of us visit Landmark bookstore on weekends, buy nothing and come out feeling better.

This year, Strand’s done things a bit differently. I’m not sure if this is how it always is, but they have not put up ‘everything’. So for example, you can’t come here looking for Jeffrey Archer, Coetzee, Murakami or JK Rowling. I spotted just one title by Jhumpa Lahiri and Orhan Pamuk's latest, that's all. One can argue that you don’t come to a book sale to pick up an Archer novel, but then, well.

The arrangement of books at the Festival is a blessing. I’m tired of craning my neck at bookstores to read the titles. Why don’t you just arrange the books horizontally? Ten brownie points to Strand for this simple change.

So what interested me the most? I think it's is an excellent opportunity to pick up some great coffee table books at throw-away prices. I also found some interesting titles about Tarantino, Satyajit Ray, but I didn’t give in to temptation, as frankly I found myself overspending by quite a bit. Last year, I spent about Rs 1,500 on about 6-7 books. This year, I’ve bought 10 titles and spent about Rs 2,750.

What made me overspend was the high number of non-fiction titles (see list below). Was also keen to buy more titles here – Inside Steve’s Brain, Inside Rupert’s Brain and Rana Dasgupta's Solo – but convinced myself to postpone the purchase for another time.

My keenness to buy non-fiction was the simple fact that I think learnings from these books can lend much so more to daily conversation. Which is why books like Tipping Point, Freakonomics, The World is Flat, and Superfreakonomics are such absolute must haves on your bookshelf. I cannot imagine discussing The Kite Runner or A Suitable Boy or Milan Kundera for over 15 minutes. I can rave about them, listen to you talking about it and nod, but that's about it.

Coming back to Strand, I was disappointed to see very few youngsters at the Festival. Most of the visitors were in the age group of 35+ and that included a lot of people in the 45+ range. My fears of youngsters – 18 to 30 year olds – not reading enough books are confirmed. Is Facebook and Twitter making us stay away from the fresh smell of paperbacks? I’d like to agree.

Billing done, I came home (Ambarnath, that is) carrying these books in a Khopoli fast local, keen to spend the weekend with my parents. 14th February, Valentine’s Day coincides with their marriage anniversary and my availability over the Valentine’s Day weekend has absolutely convinced them that I do not have a girlfriend. Not that they doubt it, or are opposed to it; they’re just sure of it now – hardly any conversations on the phone, no calls after 10pm, one can easily tell who is dating and who is not.

So paperback diet it will be for the next few months. And I hope that in the near future, when you and I are having a conversation, it will be much richer than it is now.

Here’s a list of books I bought and since it’s sale, I would be charged guilty if I did not mention the prices that I bought it for.

English August - Upamanyu Chatterjee - 225
Love and Longing in Bombay – Vikram Chandra - 150
Smoke and Mirrors, an experience of China – Pallavi Aiyar - 195
Why We Buy – The Science of Shopping – Paco Underhill - 490
The Undercover Economist – Tim Harford - 350
The Ayatollah Begs to Differ – The paradox of Modern Iran – Hooman Majd - 225
Tricky Business – Dave Barry - 200
Family Matters – Rohinton Mistry – (Hardbound) – 275
The Art of Conversation - Catherine Blyth - (Hardbound) - 300

A Thousand Splendid Suns - Khaleid Hosseini - 295 (to be gifted to my cousin, I hope you're not reading this, Debo! :))

Of Chetan Bhagat and unlimited parking in our brain

2010-02-10T06:48:00.000-08:00

There’s a scene in Wake Up Sid where the editor of a magazine (Rahul Khanna) smiles mockingly, almost in disbelief when his colleague (Konkona) tells him that she does not enjoy jazz music.

“Mujhe purane Hindi filmon ke gaane pasand hain,” she says. “Unko gaa toh sakte hain.” (I like Hindi film songs...the classics. Atleast one can hum them.)

For me, this scene was one of the high points of the film. The argument was spot on and I wanted to congratulate the film’s scriptwriter for penning this scene. Here's why.

For long, I’ve been amazed at how journalists, especially senior editors, editors, literary critics or Sunday edition reporters have consistently mocked popular choices in entertainment.

If you like jazz, you’re cool. If you like Singh is King, you’re uncool. If you’re a fan of Coetzee, you’ve arrived. If you’re reading Chetan Bhagat, you don’t have any taste in literature. And your sense of humor is down in the dumps if you’ve laughed your ass off in 3 Idiots.

Generalisations like these have often baffled me. Are you trying to suggest that your tastes are superior to mine? I've seen 3 Idiots in two cities - Mumbai and Kolkata - and I've never seen housefull auditoriums laugh their ass off like they did while watching this film. And then I've met some - all in the journalist/media fraternity, who can't seem to make out what's so great about a film. I think I'll send them a DVD of The Blairwitch Project.

In November, I remember, Indian Twitterati, friends in the media drummed up hot air (mostly negative) about how Chetan Bhagat’s books do not deserve to be read, what a terrible author he is, etc. I was hysterical when I heard about this, since I've seen from close quarters how students, first time novel readers have pored over Chetan Bhagat novels in the most crowded trains. I travelled to Kolkata recently by train and in my compartment, out of the roughly 7-8 people reading book during the journey, 5 of them were absorbed in Chetan Bhagat novels. That’s quite an achievement. And then they say that the bugger can’t write.

I was at a day-long conference recently where Bhagat was part of a panel discussion and despite his Delhi-ised English accent, he made absolute sense in every word he said. But to many in the audience, most of whom seemed to be the 'discerning snob' types, he remained the butt of all jokes. Even during the networking lunch, very few walked up to him to greet him. The best-selling Indian author was not hounded, like he is when is amongst his fans.

I’ve come to recognise these people as the ‘new age snobs’. They’ll consume Kurosawa, Wong Kar Wai, Truffaut films and appear like they’ve seen the world and they’ll conveniently skip the biggest blockbusters from the country – Ghajini, 3 Idiots, Om Shanti Om, Singh is King – dismissing them as utter crap / entertainment for the masses. They won’t travel by train – they might as well describe it as cattle class. My best friend is a film critic and I admire him not because he bowled me over with his understanding of world cinema, but also because of his maturity at accepting popular cinema targeted at the masses.

What worries me is that most media houses are run by the 'snobs'. And they always have been. When you’re running a newspaper for an audience that comprises the masses, how can you have such different tastes than them? This is why typically film critics’reviews and audience reactions vary to a great degree.

Does that mean that we must encourage people like Taran Adarsh (who are trade experts and not film-critics per se) to review films for us? I’m not so sure. It’s a very debatable topic, particularly because of his trade background. But I think over time we need art and literature critics who are good at recommending the most deserving choices to their audiences. Rather than those, who aiming to send their CVs to The New Yorker.

I think the ideal consumption of literature is one that includes the good, bad and the ugly. So read all you can gather on a platter. Read the masterpieces, the classics, read the chick lits, read the thrillers. Also read the Mills & Boon and Nicholas Sparks. A Titan commercial quotes Aamir Khan saying, “Be born everyday. Aaj rockstar, kal pilot. Kabhi kisi anjaan station pe utar ke dekho. Kabhi kisi gumnaam sheher ka ticket katao...Be more.”

Ratatouille, the delightful animation movie about the adventures of a rat who wants to cook, also elucidates the same point wherein the food critic, Ego, admits as to how literary critics often forget to appreciate the simple things. Like a plate of ratatouille.

Absolutely true.

If you’re going to confine yourself to only certain kind of authors, certain kinds of films, then you’re a one-way street, with no parking.

Our mind is best conditioned as a two-way street, with unlimited parking.

An interview with Allah

2009-09-28T11:03:00.001-07:00

With Eid festivities reaching their peak, I made my first visit to Mohammad Ali Road – the melting pot for majority of Mumbai’s ‘minority’.

While thousands of Muslims genuflected in front of Minara Masjid and felt the polluted exhausts of the evening traffic bless their bums, I had a chance to catch up with Allah. What followed was a candid chat about Islam, the possibilities of Google replacing God, the relevance of hardcore fundamentalism today and the perks of being the only God in the Muslim world.

Whatsup?
Nothing much ya. You tell me.

Whoa! That’s a very Google chat kinda answer. You’ve signed up for a Gmail account?
Can’t say I wasn’t tempted. I’ve got a Wi-fi installed here. With so many Muslims now accessing the internet, makes sense to answer their queries online.

Hmm. My first visit to Mohammed Ali Road. Never seen so many Muslims praying together. Some faith, eh?
Yeah, I guess so. This period of fasting is a sort of cleansing process for the entire body and soul. It helps you start afresh, with a new zeal towards life.

I’m sure. But I kinda find this funny. Why is there such heavy police protection in this area? Since you’re God and all, aren't you enough to protect your devotees?
The cops are to ensure the smooth flow of traffic. And hey, it’s not that I called them here. Not my fault if some politicians spotted an opportunity in protecting their vote-bank. And c’mon, my friend Ganesha who goes for a swim every year to Chowpatty commands a lot more police protection! His procession creates chaos on the streets, disrupting traffic routes and everything!

And the morning after the visarjan, Ganesha gets washed ashore. The beaches are full of broken, distorted idols.
True. I’ve tried explaining this to Ganesha many times. The other day, I told him, “Bro, I know you’re elephant and all…but why do you make an ass of yourself by demanding a visarjan in the sea? Can’t you instill some sense in these millions of Maharashtrians who clog the city (and then our beaches) with this exercise? So much noise they make!” He replied saying that eco-friendly immersions are catching up, but it’ll take time. Sudden shift in behaviour can cause chaos riots, especially with Shiv Sena and MNS around. Swat a Maharashtrian fly and they'll riot!

Point noted. But hey, I noticed you called him ‘my friend Ganesha’. You know the elephant God well?
Of course! Why wouldn’t I? We’re both in the business of faith. I sell my wares differently. He does it in his own way. But yes, we do socialise. The other day, it was the three of us – me, Ganesha and Krishna – who went to the Kurkure Desi Beats Rock on with MTV auditions. Krishna is a great flautist you’d be aware. We also went to Blue Frog to bless Rajeev Raja, another wonderful flautist. Krishna says Raja is his own avatar in the making…

This is interesting. So you guys socialise! But you’re the only Muslim God and there are so many Hindu Gods. Don’t you feel a little left out? Minority issue?
Oh c’mon! I have more followers than the all Hindu Gods combined. Wait till you see me on Twitter. How can I be the minority? In fact, I’m the majority here! So I do command respect.

And you also have the largest market share. There are so many Hindu Gods, I don’t even know who is the market leader.
I’m not sure if market share is the right term, but I think we both agree on one thing. (blushes) Monopoly is exciting.

What do you have to say about the growing mass of people who are choosing to be atheists?
You know, its good you asked that question because honestly, a real man is one who makes it on his own without asking for my blessing every 10 minutes. My cellphone is beeping non-stop with wishes waiting to be fulfilled, ambitions waiting to be realised. It’s the listening part that is painful, not the fulfilling bit. At the end of the day, I help fulfill only those wishes which are sincere and the person has used hard-work, perseverance and honesty as the means to achieve them.

Ever felt like involving more Gods in your eco-system? (laughs) Are you hiring?
I think vocation Gods are the next big thing. Shiv is the God of dance. When Jack Nicholson dies, he’ll be the God of acting. A R Rahman, Lata Mangeshkar…I’ve already started ordering thrones for them.

Attrition amongst Gods is unheard of.
Hahahaha. Very funny.

Do you think its time Muslims came out of the ‘minority status’ image in India?
That should have happened long ago. But think about it - how is it going to help matters anyway? In the public eye, a Muslim continues to be treated as an outsider. How many Hindu-Muslim marriages happen in this country? When was the last time your parents were okay with you marrying a Muslim girl?

True. My mom says she'd hang herself if I married a Muslim.
See? In fact, the other day me and Krishna were at Leopold’s and he was eyeing a pretty lady at the next table. Her name was Salma and Krishna began playing his flute to catch her attention. It was an encouraging sign. Except that she shooed him away calling him a desperado. Turned out, she was Salma Hayek.

You’re kidding me!
Whatever she may be. But the larger point is – here’s a Hindu God who’s also on Facebook, can play the flute, watches YouTube videos daily and has a festival dedicated to him. And he doesn’t mind wooing a Muslim woman. It’s a great sign.

Does the Muslim world need a make-over? How about a marketing campaign?!
Bro, just because you write on advertising, do not assume that branding is the answer to all questions. Change has to come from within. After all, it's about being a good human being.

Millions across the world worship Google. And they believe in its powers more than they believe in you.
Interesting that you asked. Ganesha and me did have a discussion on this. I say, let’s wait and watch. As long as Google provides answers, its fine I guess. At the end of the day, its all about loving your parents.

Huh!? Where did that come from? That's a line from a Karan Johar film. You've seen K3G?
Yes.

How? You got a TV connection up there?
Of course! Since cable doesn't work there, it's DTH. Direct-to-Heaven.

Neat. But tell me, Google is getting people an answer for almost everything. What does this mean for mankind?
Most of my devotees are still not yet familiar with Google. So that’s not such a matter of concern for me. Jesus may need to think harder about it.

What do you have to say about SRK’s detention at a US airport? He was questioned for two hours...
SRK is one of my finest followers. I bless him. And its unfortunate what happened. But a lot of good will come out of it. One of them will be the tremendous advance bookings for ‘My Name Is Khan’.

Okay, now I’m hungry. I'll head straight to the khau-gully here. I can already smell the kebabs and chicken tandooris. It was nice chatting up with you, Sir.
Same here, pal.

Can I add you on Facebook?
I’m not on Facebook. It’s banned in my area.

We're two-timing all the time

2009-08-23T03:34:00.000-07:00

Have you ever caught your partner two-timing?

By the time you finish reading this, you'd be pretty certain you have.

For the record, two-timing is defined thus: "When a married person is two-timing his or her partner, the two-timing spouse is considered to be deceptive and sexually unfaithful". It further says that most individuals who find themselves married to a two-timing spouse have feelings of betrayal, hurt, disbelief, anger and sadness.

But don't we all know, two-timing is not something confined to married couples alone.

Socio-demographics will tell you, that atleast in urban India, as much as relationships blossom, cheating could also happen before marriage. College students write letters to Dr Mahendra Watsa about it. When he's too full of them, he forwards them to Dr Kavan Lakdawala. And we read them everyday in the newspapers sipping our morning cuppa.

"Dear doctor, my boyfriend's dick is small and ugly. But my best friend's looks like it grew on a banana tree..."

"Dear doctor, my girlfriend sucks. But she won't suck. What's interesting is, that my neighbour will. But then, I don't love her..."

Drivel like this.

But as a generation which has come to understand Pyaar Ke Side Effects and laugh their ass off every time Rahul Bose looked into the camera and gave the 'guy' point of view, perhaps its time to acknowledge the fact that the very definition of two-timing is changing.

The good news is, sex may not be an issue here.

The bad news is, that the person who is being ignored in this melee isn't sure if the partner is two-timing, or three-timing or four...

My friend's girfriend knows that her partner is two-timing. But she can't pin him down on it. Because the 'dubious other' between the three of them, is always changing.

On some evenings, it is work.

"I need to finish an article; I'm still in office for a telecon that is about to happen.."

On some evenings, it is a meeting with a significant other. (This time, she can put a face to it, but lets it pass, because he is a journalist.)

"I'm meeting a potential source. If I get him drunk enough, he will spill the beans. That's all I need.."

On some days, it is his school friends who gang up.

"Baby, my school friends are in town after a long time. X is back from Infosys for a few days, Y will reach in an hour to make it for our meeting. Yes, there'll be beer and alcohol flowing, but you know that I don't drink..."

On weekends, it is some author whose novel he wants to finish. And on Sundays, he simply curls up with the rich spread of Sunday newspapers, full of features. Besides, the usual comment:

"I thought it would be a good idea to spend some time at home, with mum and dad, since they hardly get to see me on weekdays. So honey, not today."

I can understand that, by now, all the sympathies are with the girlfriend, because my friend has been denying her the pleasure of his company (really?), but hey, he's a guy, and as guys we're suckers for our own space.

Bottomline: Perhaps, my friend is committing adultery by loving his job more than his girlfriend. Perhaps, he's being a bewafa by loving his own personal space than his girlfriend. Or perhaps, he's more interested in broadening his horizons by talking about meaningful, bitter somethings rather than whispering sweet nothings.

So, the next time you're in the middle of a cozy dinner with your partner and you see his eyes resting for that nervous extra second on the chick who just perched herself on the opposite table, perhaps it'll be okay to not to read too much into it.

Women coo in pleasure when they see cute kids, pink sandals and tops that match, and earrings that latch. Men do their own 3-second anatomical analysis when a chick passes by. Mostly it ends there.

But what you must worry about, is perhaps the fax that he needs to send out as soon as he gets out of the restaurant, the PPT presentation he needs to work upon till late in the night (ignoring your phone calls along the way), or the passionate discussions that he involves himself in everytime he's talking to you about the new business pitch. These - and not you - are on his mind all the time. (And you thought the guy wanted to take you to bed. Maybe he did, and he'd have sung you a lullaby and put you off to sleep.)

But in case you do worry about his two-timing habits, you can always shoot a mail to Dr Mahendra Watsa in Mumbai Mirror.

My best friend's girlfriend is no film critic

2009-08-15T08:41:00.000-07:00

She believes film reviews must be "short and to-the-point", because a reader "does not have so much time to read, ya!".

She's hasn't seen the works of Kurosawa, Ray, Majidi, Truffaut, Coppola, Ghatak, Benegal, Tarantino. Rattle these names in front of her, and she'll probably think you're talking about compounds in a chemistry lab.

She has never been to a film-festival.

She's 24, my best friend's girlfriend and a film critic with a website run by one of India's largest media houses.

Recently, when she reviewed the latest Johnny Depp starrer Public Enemies and described the movie with terms like "a below average film", "direction requires polishing", it seemed like a bullet had pierced through my heart.

A day later, Public Enemies received four stars out of five in atleast two national dailies.

My worst fears were confirmed. This girl was better off doing other things and had absolutely no right to be talking a a commentator about the highs and lows in films. I'm certain that the website she writes for has not gained much following yet. Or else, reader feedback would have fired her already.

I'm also certain that her immediate boss has no sense of film appreciation either, as he/she hasn't yet taken the pains to verify this girl's credentials, knowledge of film-makers, passion about cinema and views about film-making.

Recently I happened to watch Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu's Amores Perros and 13 Tzameti with her. First up, she didn't know there existed films by these names. Secondly, I found herself fidgety and restless, busy texting on her phone while watching the film. Anyone who has seen Amores Perros, and is even remotely close to having a sane opinion about films, will tell you that the film has enough to mesmerize and keep you hooked, blisfully unaware of the world around you.

But seeing her distracted seemed like seeing a callous examiner checking my answer sheet.

What's more, she'd reviewed Imran Khan starrer Luck recently. She seemed totally turned off just when 13 Tzameti was hotting up and gave up as soon as she realised similarities between the two films.

I'm certain she's watched zilch world cinema. And her passion for watching movies is arguable. I've known film critics who've gone all out to acquire DVDs of films they've got recommendations about, film-makers they've read about, only to be enchanted, impressed and sometimes even disappointed by the charms of cinema.

The lady in question here, certainly has very little or none of those traits.

Let me make a confession here. I wanted to be a film-critic once. But soon I realised that it takes a lot of experience of watching not just films, but knowledge about them and the art of making them, to actually make an opinion about them. Since then, I've made a consistent effort to watch as many movies as I can, of as many different kinds - the good, bad, ugly. Not just English, but Hindi, regional and world cinema.

At 21, I'd even applied to the FTII film appreciation course, but was turned down since I was told I'm too young to take the course. How much of Ray or Truffaut would a 21-yr old understand in a 4-week long course?

But its the appointment of amateur film-critics like these which completely pisses me off. My jaws almost dropped the day I learnt that the lady in question here, would be reviewing films.

I don't know how many of you catch a movie at the multiplex going by the reviews they receive in the media. Considering that these days hype about movies is enough to get netizens googling for film reviews by Friday afternoon itself.

Trouble is, Google News throws up the most 'optimised results', or links to film-reviews, not necessarily the most credible reviews. Wonder why Eric Schmidt could never get some sense of literature and opinion into the world's best search engine.

Because going by the results Google will throw up, chances are you may be reading the tripe my best friend's girlfriend is dishing out. Her reviews can best be described as the English version of how film-trade analysts like Komal Nahta and Taran Adarsh talk about movies - "First half was good, aggressive screenplay, but momentum cannot be maintained in the second half, ending was a disappointment, camera work was nice, and songs were situational."

The mere fact that websites like Bollywoodhungama have placed the coveted crown of film-critics on trade analysts like Taran Adarsh is an example of how clueless and shoddy web journalism in India today is. Its proof of the fact that one of the highest online traffic generating entertainment websites in India has completely taken its audience for granted.

Sorry sir! Taran Adarsh can tell me lots about box-office collections, but I do not believe he can talk to me about what was right and what was wrong in a film. That mandate has to rest with, and only with an experienced film critic. (Give me Mayank Shekhar, Rajeev Masand, Udita Jhunjhunwala anyday.)

Which makes me want to ask - what does a reader expect from a film review?

Some may argue that he/she expects only to be told whether he should go watch the movie or no. That'll make film reviews a one-paragraph issue.

But consider this: Time and again, anecdotal and systemic research has shown that film-reviews are the most religiously read portions of a newspaper/website.

When a reader is reading a film review, he's perhaps making a background check similar to what he does before buying a product. So without going to the extent of being boring, a reviewer must supply all possible details - background, relevance - before going on to make an opinion on the film. If its a must watch, why so. And if its not, why not. (An example of an extremely well-written review is here.)

In my view, reviewers (like the person in question here), who simply have no experience of watching films of the masters, are doing a great injustice to film appreciation, by talking to readers as just one amongst them.

Let us be clear. Audience verdict is best given by audience, only when they're in a large mass, and that's best given by a polling agency.

The film critic, in my view, must look at film-appreciation as an art, that it so wonderfully is.

It does not mean that every reviewer today must have seen the works of Kurosawa or Tarantino. Its a simple case of giving readers the right to listen to the voice of experience, someone who's seen enough in life and on-screen, to know the intricacies of cinema to titillate, mesmerize and stir audiences, thus making a balanced opinion about a film.

Let us not forget that a film-maker toils hard to produce a film, and let us not allow their hard work be ridiculed at the hands of inexperienced and highly opinionated 20-somethings posing as film critics.

How WB made a whore out of Harry Potter

2009-07-05T07:34:00.000-07:00

I miss Harry Potter.

Not that I was dating him or something, but there was a time not many moons ago - when the I'd been reading the third instalment of the hugely popular franchise - I was contemplating taking a membership in the Harry Potter Fan Club, if ever there was one. But then I saw the movie based on the third book - Prisoner of Azkaban - and I was left completely blah! by the end of it. I wasn't overwhelmed by the end of it, the trademark Harry Potter theme music that I'd come to love in the series' first two instalments had been replaced by something that resembled like a group of kids singing in a church choir.

Well I got no complaints with kids singing in the bathroom, or in the school bus or in the church choir for that matter, they may sing wherever they please, but how could Warner Bros mess with the theme music? One of the most important things that binds us to a super-hero series, or a whiz-kid series for that matter, is the background score. Superman Returns was wildly nostalgic, and much of it had to do with Bryan Singer's judgement in keeping the trademark soundtrack alive.

But that's as far as the music goes. The Harry Potter movies, by the time they reached its fourth instalment - The Goblet of Fire - had begun to resemble a hamburger filled with just too many stuffings, and too little a mouth to feed them. Simply put, as the books grew thicker, their equivalents on celluloid just failed to translate the magic. Shit happened yet again in the Order of the Phoenix - I found the screenplay too restless and hurried, and there were just a handful of moments which conjured up any magic similar to J K Rowling's narrative skills.

Some of you who're reading this may just sit back and say, "Oh, but the movies are rarely as good as the books!"

I'd like to point out that there have been some great adaptations, some which have been even more successful than the books themselves. I found Mira Nair's The Namesake particularly fulfilling and exceptional, as was Peter Jackson's The Lord of The Rings. Ditto for Francis Ford Coppola's The Godfather series, and Sam Mendes' Revolutionary Road.

Looking back, personally, what happened with the Harry Potter series is that I realised that its all a huge money making franchise, a big hoax, and the producers would go to any lengths to compress, devastate and puke out anything that comes out from the Warner Bros. studios that lasts 2 and a half hours long in the name of Harry Potter.

Basically, they've made a whore out of Potter.

Unfortunately for me, these feelings took a toll on my further reading of the series altogether. After I saw Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, I abandoned the series altogether, and today even if I have to make an attempt to read The Half Blood Prince, I give it a pass. It'll seem like an exercise in futility I think.

As readers, we often picture the characters in our heads in a certain way, and believe me, the reason we ended up loving the Harry Potter movies so much initially, was because our visualisation was much in sync with that of Christopher Columbus, the director of the first two movies - The Sorcerer's Stone and The Chamber of Secrets. However, the Prisoner of Azkaban was the ultimate letdown since it was unlike anything I'd pictured - I found it too dark, and missed the candy floss imagery that I still continue to attach to Hogwarts surroundings.

After that sequel, they got a new director to make a film out of Rowling's work - and each of them has added his own style. Now, while that's a good thing, what's bad is that there's a clear disconnect between the first two movies, and the rest of the series. Some may argue that the series itself got darker and very serious - Harry's learning the Dark Arts after all - but that's an excuse for a production design that seems heavily borrowed from the Kate Beckinsale's Underworld movies.

The people at Warner Bros have clearly realised that come what may, its time to make money out of the franchise as soon as possible and close the Harry Potter chapter. While that may bring excitement to Harry Potter fans, it does not bring the promise of satisfaction of seeing a good movie.

A lot of us who'll watch The Half Blood Prince when it releases in theatres this month, will probably watch the movie knowing that they'll be disappointed. But the allure of Harry Potter, created by J K Rowling, cannot be dismissed by the prospects of a 2-hour special effects bonanza steeped in regret.

Macau’s sinfully naughty delights

2009-06-15T08:14:00.000-07:00

It’s not everyday that leggy, drop-dead gorgeous beauties dressed in Miss Universe costumes stand in a row, clap, sing, cheer and pose with you, welcoming you at the reception of a 5-star hotel.

And it's not everyday that such beauties turn out to be – as my tour guide Alorino described them – “man in woman’s body”.

Indeed, I thought I had my Bachna Ae Haseeno moment, until they said, “Welcome to Star World Hotel!” in the most masculine voice I’d ever heard.

Such is Macau, and its sinfully naughty delights. The who's who of Bollywood who’re in the city for the just concluded IIFA Awards, might call the city as Las Vegas of the East, but in Hollywood parlance, I'd rather call it the American Pie of tourist destinations. Casinos, massage parlours, night clubs, sky-diving, a Grand Prix to its name - Macau is a playground of indulgence for adult travellers.

Alorino put it succinctly, “You want to make money, you go to Casino. You want to spend money, you go to sex shop. Vice versa!”

I didn't have to go to such lengths. But I'll remember my 5-day tour of Macau for many firsts.

Like, it was the first time I stayed in a 5-star hotel, in a deluxe room all to myself. As soon as I entered it, I spent 20 minutes clicking pictures of the room. And as I relaxed later in the bathtub, I felt like I was John Abraham in No Smoking.

Like, it was the first time I saw a semi-nude women pole dance within 3 feet of my squirming uncomfortable self, and my travel companions - female journalists most of them - called up their husbands back home and screamed in sadistic pleasure, “You know what! I just saw a pole dance! I bet you’ve never seen one! Muhahaha!”

Silly wives, I say.

Like, I realised that gambling in casinos can become addictive. Looking at the plethora of grand casinos all around – they are one of Macau’s highest revenue sources, recession be damned - one is tempted to throw in a few dollars and set the ball rolling in the roulette. Although I didn’t try my luck there, some of my travel-companions became poorer by several dollars in consequent attempts after having kissed lady luck at first go.

Like, it was the first time I had an octopus for lunch. Sure, I was overwhelmed with the deluge of prawns in every meal we had - Macau's a manna from heaven for seafood and wine lovers - but octopus salad surely made me feel I'd soon improve my multi-tasking abilities.

Like, the first time I noticed the sky in Macau has smoke detectors. Well, not really, but when you're in The Venetian, a mall-cum-city-cum-hotel-with-3000-rooms-cum-largest-casino-on-this-planet, you could get easily fooled into thinking so, while experiencing the delights of Venice in a gondola ride.

Like, how not a single vehicle honked on the street, no matter how crowded the roads may be or how the peak hour traffic might be testing the drivers’ patience. The streets are an exercise in discipline – no litter, no honking, no bonking.

It was also the first time I interacted with Chinese people so closely. I entered into the kitchen of every restaurant we ate at, thanked the chefs for the wonderful meal, posed for pictures with the pretty waitresses, only to realise that there's more to Chinese women than Lucy Liu. Not only are they as pretty as dolls, but they’re also mother to babies so cute that I cooed in pleasure every time I saw one.

There were times during this trip that I became so obsessed with clicking pictures of Chinese kids, that I'm sure the locals must have mistaken me for a paedophile or something.

Alorino noticed this, and on our way back to the airport, comforted me by saying, “Chinese women - very rich and pretty. You marry one of them and she give you nice baby. Training, training, it bring gold from Olympics.”

“They’ll be such cute kids,” I replied, showing him some Chinese kids' pictures I'd clicked.

"What if the kids look like you?" he asked, giggling.

My travel companions roared with laughter.

The frustration of a salesman in a local train

2009-04-24T11:45:00.000-07:00

So many people have suggested that I shift closer to office. That I must stay in Mumbai, and not some remote corner of the far flung suburbs.

Time and again, I've thought about it, but disposed the thought, thanks to experiences like these.

My daily commute in the local train stretches to beyond 4 hours, and in this period I get to see things that corner office dwellers can't even think about.

Like the Ultimate Sales Pitch.

Picture this.

Packed local train, inhuman traveling conditions, the smell of sweat and body odor in the air and an atmosphere where tempers and blood, both are boiling with equal gusto. And in pops a salesman.

"Train mein baithe sabhi yaatri zara meri awaaj ki taraf dhyaan dijiyega..."

This is his playground. And he has to sell a certain number of his wares - whatever he's selling - to make a little profit at the end of the day. Note: Salesmen in trains have to sell at price-points of either Rs 5, Rs 10, Rs 15 or Rs 20. These are basically utility items, and often they're in pretty decent shape and long-lasting. Anything above Rs 20 sells in low volumes, since the average Deshpande, More, Patil has only few notes of Rs 10 in his upper pocket. The money's not stored in a wallet, its neatly folded in the plastic folder of the railway pass, or it is lost somewhere amongst the bundle of bills, scribbled notes and folded sheets of paper.

Buying happens largely on impulse, and a good salesman can have a field day selling volumes, if he's loud, convincing and he's selling a utility product.

So its about 8:35pm, the compartment is relatively crowded.

Our salesman makes a strong sales pitch, making many heads turn, attracting the attention of several drowsy buggers and rousing their curiosity. He's selling stick-ons - "you need not drill a nail into your wall to hang your calender or your jhola, a stick-on is all you gotta use".

He gives a neat demo of the product - pulls down a few glass windows in the compartment to prove - much to our expectations - that it sticks on glass as well.

As a seller, the fellow is impressive - he's allowing the passengers to touch, feel and check out the product for themselves. He's also helping them try out the stick-on on the walls of the railway compartment. He's dodging legs, jumping over the scramble of legs, making sure he doesn't fall on anyone, minding his bagful of supplies and ensuring that nobody's 'shoplifting'.

His price points are respectable - Rs 5 for one stick-on and Rs 10 for 2.

And for Rs 50, one can buy a pack of 12.

The day's nearing its end and much to his discomfort it seems, he hasn't sold many all day - so he's pushing the Rs 50 pack aggressively.

Bad move. People just wouldn't buy.

He gets desperate and for the next few minutes, he tries repeatedly in convincing people how its important for them to save their walls, and stick-ons are so important. But to no avail.

Some folks ask him to give some discount, but he rubbishes it politely, saying, "Saab, kam margin waala dhanda hai." The passenger doesn't negotiate further.

After much trying and pleading, our salesman gives up. And in his desperation, he blurts out a few lines, which are priceless and paint the true frustration of a poor salesman trying to sell a faceless product.

"Aap soch rahe hain, naya company hai, maal shayad nahin chale. Lekin meri baat yaad rakhna (raises his index finger here), kuch saalon mein jab yeh company badi ho jayegi, tab iss cheez ka daam badh jayega.

"Tab aap sochoge, ki uss raat train mein mujhe kharedi kar leni chahiye thi. Aap sabne agar iss cheez ko TV pe ad mein dekha hota, ya Amitabh Bacchan, Shah Rukh Khan ko isska ad karte hue dekha hota, toh phir aap jaroor khareedte."

I smile, as I hear this.

And as I look around, I find a lot of other people in the compartment doing the same thing - as if silently acknowledging the salesman's words.

Just shoe it: A journalist's revolution

2009-04-07T09:44:00.000-07:00

"Shoe kar, mere mann ko, kiya tu ne kya ishaara..."
- P Chidambaram's humming this during potty hour

The journalistic tribe has had enough.
Enough of stupid answers from spokespersons.
Enough of beating around the bush.
Jarnail has done a Bhagat Singh for the scribes of this country.

A revolution is about to happen. Beware of Just Shoe It.

The headlines:

HUL chief shoed away from press conf
In what's becoming a trend of sorts, a journalist from the Financial Chronicle threw his shoe at HUL chief Nitin Paranjpe. The journalist asked him about advertising spends that HUL is going to make in the coming quarter, and as is the norm, Paranjpe said, "I'm sorry. We don't disclose numbers." Immediately after, a shoe landed on his face...

Hanmer PR person bludgeoned with shoe
In another bizarre incident, our correspondent witnessed the bludgeoning of a senior PR person from Hanmer MS&L. She said, "It was a press conference and as soon as it got over, a journo from ET Now walked up to the spokesperson asking him for his cellphone number. As soon as he asked for it, the PR person interrupted, "Excuse me, for any questions or information, you can mail me and I'll have them answered." The journo bent down, as if to pick up something, but instead we saw him removing his shoe - and began hitting the PR person very badly. Once he was done, he shouted, "Long live Jarnail, tera sapna nahin hoga fail!"

DNA journalists go shoe-shopping
About 14 journalists from Daily News and Analysis (DNA) today went shopping for shoes. Not surprising, since after the much discussed attacked on Chidambaram by Jarnail Singh, journalists around the country have been contemplating whether it would be a good idea to carry a shoe just in case the spokesperson dodges questions. Arcopol Chaudhuri, a correspondent with DNA was spotted returning from Linking Road carrying 4 pairs of cheap shoes. "I got a very good deal," he said, delighted, jumping in the middle of the street. "Each pair is just for 100 bucks. Pehenna nahin hai, phenkna hai."

Mysore Sandal launches footwear range - My Sore Sandal
The Mysore Sandal soap is taking steps out of the FMCG business, and its taking these steps wearing sandals of its own name - My Sore Sandal! A spokesperson of the company was quoted as saying, "Legend has it that a woman's most important weapon is her sandal. Journalism is today dominated by women, and our entry into the shoes business is a step towards women's empowerment and not just any shoe-tya-giri."

Advani calls shoes a western phenomenon
Prime Ministerial hopeful L K Advani today reacted to Chidu's shoegate moment saying, "Its very unfortunate. I've always said this and I'll say it again - shoes are a western phenomenon. India has traditionally been a chappal, mojri wearing country. Not only are they comfortable to wear, they are also easier to take aim and throw, when person is in distress..." Chidu couldn't be reached for reactions.

Online shoe throwing games new stress-buster, finds survey
A survey by Just Consult has found that not just journalists, employees at various IT, banking and engineering firms spend at least an hour daily playing online games, wherein all they have to do is earn points by throwing virtual shoes. "The best part is, I get to choose the picture of the person on whose face I'm throwing the shoe," said an employee of DNA After Hrs, quoting anonymity. "Its a good stress-buster, especially when I'm throwing it on 'large editors'."

No shoes allowed at press conferences, says Adfactors chief
The head of a leading public relations firm today said that he won't allow any journalists wearing shoes to enter press conferences for his clients. Mandar Behaal, in an email sent to his employees wrote, "I want extra security deployed at the reception. The moment you give the journalist the press kit, ask him to remove his shoe. His socks will stink, so spray some deodarant on them, and let him in. Check his bags to ensure he or she is not carrying anything dangerous." Some journalists have reacted saying they'd rather go to Vaishnodevi instead.

Chidambaram calls for caution, says pen is mightier than shoe
Home Minister P Chidambaram, still recovering from the ghastly odours that may have emanated as a shoe whizzed past his nostrils, has called for caution amongst journalists after India's 'shoegate scandal'. In a telephonic interaction (he refused to meet this reporter, after he came to know he wears a Woodland) he said, "We must not read too much into it. Let us remember that the pen is mightier than the shoe." This particular quote has made Chidu enter the category of George Bush. If Bush had Bush-isms, this was Chidu's first Chidu-ism.

Abhinav Bindra to teach the art of throwing
Olympic gold medal winner Abhinav Bindra will teach journalists the art of taking aim. In return, journalists will have to stop asking him just one question, "What after Samsung?" Bindra appeared excited. "Its important to throw pointed questions. Our politicians, corporates will have to offer straight answers to the media. The days of dodging questions are over." Sources said Bindra is planning to make some business journo ask Samsung MD, "When are you gonna send Bindra his cheque?" If he doesn't answer, journo will take aim.

Shoes that don't last, but blast
Delhi based Bomb-a-shoe Footwear today launched a new range of shoes that blast within 3 seconds of being flung into the air. Company officials said they wanted to capitalise on the resurgent demand of shoes from journalists all over Delhi, especially Sardarjis. There's a catch though: These shoes would be available only when the customer shoes his Press card. Considering its Delhi, that shouldn't be a problem, we think.

IIT-Kanpur launches a shoe that's a lie detector too
Young geeks at IIT-Kanpur launched a shoe that automatically comes out of your bags, the moment it senses someone faffing. "Traditionally such a thing happens at a Mayawati rally. We're expecting major sales before she gives the next speech," said Shoe Kriya Meherbaan, a 19-year old who masterminded this shoe. And as an afterthought, he added, "I think I'll add a special something into it that'll make the shoe beep everytime somebody says Dalit. Whatsay?" Game on, brother.

Happy realization

2009-04-06T23:32:00.000-07:00

This darned chicken pox has made me realize a lot of stuff, which along the way I never ended up noticing. Blame it on my routine job where I'm overworked, spending about 16 hrs everyday outside home. Or blame it on my obsessiveness with being wired with the outside, only to realize the treasures I missed at home.

Sometimes, I think its good to disconnect once in a while and observe things around us. And that doesn't mean driving off to Lonavla on the weekend. Chicken pox is disgusting because it forces you to be in solitary confinement. And such quarantine makes you end up talking a lot with your mind. Some happy realizations happened.

1. My dad's retirement. He really reads the papers thoroughly and his mood is determined in a big way by whether my article's appeared in the paper or not. These days he's understandably low.

2. Moms are like dogs. They're faithful no matter how much you ignore them and take them for granted. I almost did - when work took precedence over family at some point of time. I hope I can reverse the cycle a bit. I'm glad to have been blessed my parents like these.

3. My maid wears the same sari every alternate day. But she talks too loud and gets on my nerves. So, case dismissed ...I've shelved all thoughts of gifting her a new sari.

4. There's an insane number of movies I haven't watched and simply cannot muster up the courage to watch. Like Sholay. Its been spoofed to death and I just can't take it seriously.

5. I'm a wasted bibliophile. Blame the Strand Book Fair or Landmark's salivating collection of books. I ended up buying too many novels and I'm yet to read so many of them. I began reading some - finished Milan Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Aravind Adiga's White Tiger, Vikas Swarup's Q&A and Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan's You Are Here. Decent reads all of them - White Tiger takes the cake, though.

6. My home - Ambarnath - is an isolated town. I should have known that everytime my cellphone GPRS showed my location as Kansai Village. If you switch off from the internet, mobile phone and television for a day, the world wouldn't have changed. Just the reason why its so difficult for a journalist to work from home - especially when home is in a remote town 2 hrs from the metropolis.

7. Earth Hour. Fuck it. We don't get electricity fr 6-7 hours daily as part of a routine load-shedding process for the last 4 years. Its become a way of life. Why the fuck should I switch off my lights when fat cats in Bombay burn the geyser and bathe? 'What on Earth!' hour is what I should be celebrating.

8. Water is the new oil. There are water problems all around. And bitchy society members waste gallons of water washing their cars every morning. You dumbfucks, I don't have enough water to wash my ass clean here!

9. Friends stay. I was surprised at the number of folks concerned about my messy health. And no, its not the usual friends. Some new ones - mostly women, here's their chance to play mother - have been texting me about what medicines to take, etc. Thank you, guys. Really appreciate it.

10. Brother is sentimental. He's 10 years elder to me and married, but his wife tells me that he started crying the moment he came to know I was ill. Damn, I miss him. And how!

11. This room in which I'm locked up, is painted blue. And my family did not even consult me before they got it painted 3 years back. How sick! This stupid colour is making me feel ill all over again.

12. Time to think. That's what chicken pox gave me the most. I've looked back at my past life, my work, thought about where its headed, thought about where I'd like it to be headed, am I happy in the organization I'm working with, where would I see myself in a few years from now...all of that.

Does that mean its good to fall ill once in a while? Maybe it is. Mom says chicken pox removes all the germs from your body. Dad says a lot of things too, but I don't listen to him cause he talks too much.

But the doctor says chicken pox is like love. Happens only once in a lifetime. I disagree. And this is the voice of experience talking. :)

Why water cooler conversations are on the rise at the DNA office

2009-03-20T01:06:00.000-07:00

In the last couple of days, consumption of coffee, tea and water in DNA's Mumbai office has shot up. At the drop of a hat, one could see people making a beeline for the water cooler, or the coffee machine not necessarily to consume those beverages. In the process, they ended up discussing, probing and scaring themselves.

But honestly, it wasn't the drop of a hat that started it off.

I think it was a simple web link that did the evil trick. And journalists at this newspaper - by now, well tuned to chasing stories about which company is laying off how many people - began chasing a story about their own lay-offs.

(Reminds me of Darna Mana Hai, where the characters narrating spooky tales realise they are in one such tale themselves.)

So, everybody in this office is chasing this story. And this office today resembles a Big Boss set (not that we're locked up here) in gossiping about what are the chances of being eliminated.

Even women's washroom gossip is something along these lines I think. (Note: I did not eavesdrop standing next to the women's washroom. But I understand women well enough to guess.)

"What have you heard?"

"How many wickets down?"

"30 people? Who all from your team?"

"Oh my God! But he's a senior journo, yaar!"

"The newer employees are not much of a liability."

"Why the fuck did they launch Bangalore at a time like this? Someone told me, we've over-staffed there!"

"Shit! God knows what's going to happen to us."

"Does one have to serve a notice period? We get our Basic, right?"

"What's the point of sacking him? His salary was what - Rs 18 grands or something?"

"Why doesn't the CEO take a pay-cut? The top management earns in lakhs!"

And the works.

I could sense something was up when the day after TOI announced some cost-cutting measures on increments, the lights were on till late in the night in the cabins of the promoters of this newspaper.

The top brass obviously must have got huddled together to discuss what now. Its always like this. The market leader blinks and the rest follow suit.

Anyway, its official now. The pink slip epidemic has come home. And some livelihoods will be lost.

Nowadays, folks sport glum expressions on their faces and they break into nervous laughter when somebody cracks those pink-slip jokes.

We're working harder. And being nice to our bosses. My boss has supposedly told us he's going to try his best to ensure we're not laid off. All I know is that we're a young and inexperienced team, and do not command fat pay-checks. We didn't have the right to.

Shit. What a life! Just when my life's parachute was beginning to take off, the recession eagle punctured a hole into it.

Why 13B is an uncomfortable watch

2009-03-14T08:53:00.000-07:00

With a subtitle that says 'Fear has a new address', a viewer expected 13B to scare him to death.

But then 13B is not your usual horror film.

In fact, pundits would debate it's genre since in most parts, the film amuses you on the strength of its bizarre proceedings, giving you the chills only occasionally and going on to become an edge-of-the-seat thriller in its concluding hour.

That's calling for trouble, if you know how Indian audiences have been consuming horror in the recent past.

In a few months from now, if the makers of 13B were to discover that the film did not recover its costs, they'd be asking themselves: 'What were the audiences thinking?'

There's reason for the skepticism. Simply because 13B is an uncomfortable film to watch.

For the last few years, we became so used to the Ram Gopal Varma school of horror - Bhoot, Vaastu Shastra, Naina, Phoonk - all of which were replete with occasionally loud bangs in the background score, powder-in-their-face ghosts, creaking doors, long silences and wafer thin plots devoid of a sequential series of twists and turns.

So suddenly when a 13B came along, promising to frighten audiences, the viewer although intrigued by the natural curiosities that a horror film brings along is still expecting recycled Ram Gopal Varma tricks.

The promotional publicity of 13B wasn't any different. Naturally, the movie was therefore not expected to pop up any surprises.

Which fortunately, it has managed to pull off.

Sure, the premise of a haunted house is familiar. The direction despite being clever in most parts of the film, is also tacky in some portions. The background score is loud and jarring.

But where 13B wins, is in the fact that it has incredible story to tell. And a solid script to back it up, with convincing performances.

Now with such merits, you'd argue that the film should be a blockbuster! People like me, came out impressed with the debutante director's ability to strike a gold at first attempt.

But for many, accepting a film may cannot be explained in such simple terms of a good story and a good screenplay. A film which provokes contrasting emotions while promising something else, is a disaster.

Which unfortunately, is what 13B also ends up doing.

Think about the possibilities. A bad thriller can turn into a laugh-a-thon. A comedy can bomb, if it fails to live up to its promise of making you laugh. A Yash Chopra film brings certain sensibilities with it. An Anurag Kashyap film has certain sentiments attached.

13B, unfortunately, then becomes uncomfortable because it promises fear and horror, and ends up providing a lot of nervous laughter, minimal chills and suspense of the murder-mystery genre, with supernatural elements thrown in.

So even though the viewer might be hooked, he's not willing to forgive the film-maker for making him giggle in several portions of the movie. And the director's not at fault here, simply because the sequence of events in the film, is so bizarre that its natural to expect a few laughs.

Which is why, people who've seen the film cannot seem to classify it as a horror film. Of course it's a horror film - ghosts, spirits, paranormal, its all in there - but they don't send chills down your spine the way they did for many years.

Things change, I guess.

Why you must never date a business journalist

2009-03-06T07:45:00.000-08:00

A friend recently pointed out that now-a-days having a conversation with me is becoming virtually impossible, because I keep asking most of the questions and reply with a 'hhmm' and 'ok' and 'sure' and 'can you elaborate?'

In other words, my interviewing skills that come in handy in my profession, are now rubbing on to my personal life and before I even realize, casual dates are turning into episodes of Devil's Advocate.

My journalism professor was right. She'd said, "Once a journalist, always a journalist." Meaning, even when journalists are off-duty (practically that never happens), they end up thinking of story-ideas, looking for scoops in every conversation and casual remark. So much so, I would expect people to run away from scribes like us.

I've got nightmares, wherein all my interviewing skills culminate and spoil what could be a cozy date over a cup of coffee. Imagine, she was sitting right in front of me and a conversation that (Holy shit!) went like this...

1. So, what's new? How was your last quarter?

2. What steps are you taking to battle this economic downturn? (Hope you aren't planning to make me pay for your cappucino.)

3. That's a nice dress you're wearing. What was the acquisition cost?

4. Your operating costs must have gone through the roof, after you moved to your new apartment. How are coping with it?

5. And what else? Are you seeing someone right now? Any mergers in the pipeline?

6. I was actually planning to move into the suburbs. And I liked your apartment too. I'll share half the rent. How about forming a joint venture?

7. Do you like kids? I love them! If I'm laid off, I think I'll be a baby-sitter. So many kids in this country, yet so few people to take care of them! It'll bring me additional revenue.

8. Why don't you also take a Vodafone connection? I can call you for free, then. Helps manage costs, better.

9. Hey...you just placed an order for a chicken teriyaki. What was the strategy behind that? How do you see it making a difference to you in the long term?

10. Is that a gold necklace? Whoa.. gold prices have crossed the limit you know. You should go for silver or copper, once in a while. Or just tie the noose around your neck, and show off the great Indian rope trick! Ha Ha Ha.

11. Aah...here comes your order. Isn't this your first ever chicken teriyaki? How do you plan to celebrate? Aren't you issuing a press release? (The ET guys are sitting hungry at the next table, if you'd like to know.)

12. Hmm...yummy. This tastes really good. The price to yearnings ratio is the best one on this, I can already guess. Delicious stuff.

13. Now, really...you gotta to be kidding, telling me you are single and all, eh? You don't like men, or is it that the recession has put your expansion plans on hold?

14. Two of my close friends are getting married today, you know. To each other! I'm so happy. Their due diligence lasted just 3 weeks, and bang! The guy bid for her! And despite being really hot and all, there were no competitive bids. He acquired her overnight!

15. I write about brands, advertising and positioning you know. Positioning is so important in relationships, I tell you. I mean, whoever said "We're just good friends" needs a crash course in learning the right positioning and also the right positions.

16. You sung really well at the Community Hall last night. The organisers are good pay-masters, but after last night's performance your share prices must have gone through the roof!

17. Excuse me, my phone's ringing. A PR chick is calling. Gotta throw some attitude, to let her know who's the boss. "Hello...yes...I'm in a meeting right now. Call me later." Yup, so where were we?

18. Those jeans are nice. They fit perfectly, don't they? How much did you invest in them? Come to think of it, how are you planning to improve your bottom line? You could do without the pink-chaddi.

(Run lola run!)

All that is fit to print

2009-01-13T08:02:00.000-08:00

"On most occasions, what differentiates a good journalist from a bad one is news sense. What is breaking news for one may not even be news for another."

With these lines, my professor from journalism school made it clear on which side of the fence she wanted me to be on.

Ever since, I've been holding her words close to my heart and have tried to apply better sense into news reporting.

But every now and then, I'm irked by requests from common folks - neighbors, uncouth publicity agents, small-time event organizers, and even well-to-do readers of this newspaper - asking me to report on things that to my judgement, are not at all news-worthy.

Some requests include stuff like...

Mrs Mathur, the aunty next door, saying: “Mr Nair on the ground floor has been stealing all my magazines from the letter box. I'm so tired of this, Arco. You're a journalist! Why don't you write something on how neighbours who steal magazines are the new social evil…”

A fellow commuter in local train, on discovering that I'm a journalist: “Sir, we are having a painting competition at our colony. Similar to Taare zameen par. Only there's no Aamir Khan coming. Will you publish a news item on this…”

A certain professor calling up to say: "We are organizing a blood donation camp in our society. Thoda coverage ho jaye to badhiya ho, eh? Pre-event and post-event…”

And the mother of all requests. From who else, but my mother. After realizing that dad's not handing over the TV remote to her even after the news bulletins are over, she yells: “It's so annoying! How can women watch Zee TV and Star Plus if men keep watching endless cycles of 24x7 news? You must write about these things…"

When they told me all this, I thought they were kidding. But they weren't. Sometimes I’ve asked them as a response, "Would you really want to read about your personal stuff in the papers?"

Their responses appear confused. I don’t blame them – they did the unthinkable when they expressed outrage about the relentless coverage about Prince (remember?), but still continuing to watch it, giving the impression that the tragedy of a 5-year old stuck in a 60-foot deep pit was an event of national importance.

It’s at such times, that I’m convinced about what Outlook editor Vinod Mehta once told me in an interview: "The reader is a hypocrite. Go to him for market research, he’ll say he wants all sex and sleaze removed from the newspapers. Instead he’ll demand more local news and international reportage. But, if that is true, then how come a cover-story on a sex-survey turns out to be a best-seller?"

(The above write-up appeared in DNA in the column Saturday Rant. )

Meri nayee padosan

2008-12-26T07:04:00.000-08:00

I have new neighbours. More, that's their surname. Its a Maharashtrian family.

Just to clarify. They're not 'More' from the Dil Maange More pronunciation. They're more like Moray. Yes, Moray.

I'm super excited, about them though! Not because they're Maharashtrian. Duh!

They have a young lady in the family. :)

She's about my age, I suppose. But she's got more useful muscles in her head, it seems, since she appears to be all mature and that and all that.

She has this 'seen this, been there, done that' expression on her face. You know what I'm talking about.

Our balconies face each other. And I've seen her over the last few mornings, standing there and doing nothing. She's careful about coming into the balcony though. I think she's seen that movie Hollow Man, where this guy suddenly becomes hollow and all, and starts scaring pretty women in front of their mirror.

As I said, she looks, 'seen this, been there, done that'.

Yesterday morning, when I went to my terrace to do my usual Yoga routine, I suddenly got extremely conscious of my naked torso. What if she's poking her eyes out of some window and observing my movements?

So I became stiff and all, while doing Yoga. My biceps puffed up in pride, I did 35 push-ups as against the usual 30, and I groaned and moaned like Monica Seles did everytime she served.

Soon after, I think, I heard someone scream from the neighbouring flat. "Piyaaaa, aavar!" (Piya, hurry up!)

So Piya is her name. Nice!! :) Piya More.

Or More Piya. (Muhahaha!)

Moray piya. Lol.. I liked this.

:))

Today morning, I pumped the volume on our CD player, while doing Yoga.

A major feat was also achieved. I crossed 35 push-ups. And the song that played on the CD was from Devdas.

"More Piyaaa... jalta hai dekho meraa jiyaaa..."

Lol. :)

Which other songs can I play for her? Any suggestions? ;)

Kashmir winter: Of shikharas, Uncle Tom's shayaris and Orkut

2008-12-25T00:01:00.000-08:00

10 years back, if you told someone you're traveling to Kashmir, they would have told you that it's a bad idea. But after the drama that unfolded on 26/11 in Mumbai, my plans for a Kashmir trip elicited this response:

"Well, Mumbai isn’t safe anyway. Have a good time."

And so I pack my bags, hop aboard a flight with a 6-day itinerary in the snow-capped tip of northern India - the sights of which first fascinated me in films such as Roja and Mission Kashmir. I watched the latter several times, to learn the steps of Rind posh maal, a song which I eventually choreographed in my school’s annual day function. (Psst..all this, just to woo my first crush. It was Class nine!)

When I reach Srinagar, it's the same song that Ishfaq, the 23-year old boatsman of my shikhara hums (and follows it up with Bhumbro) as he takes me across Dal lake to the houseboat in which I’d be staying.

Sitting in the shikhara – similar to the one which made Shammi Kapoor go bonkers once, I’m told - I soak in cool weather. The mercury hovers around 2 degrees, and as we bob across the maze of houseboats camped like exhibits, Ishfaq and me get talking.

I ask him whether it’s a safe time to be visiting Kashmir. He nods. When I tell him I’m from Mumbai, he asks me, "Have you heard of Qazi Tauqeer? Humaara Kashmir ka singer hai! He is in Bombay now. Bahut artist log Kashmir chhodke Mumbai gaya. But Inshallah, Kashmir is much safer now. Terrorists are everywhere. Mumbai ko bhi nahin chhoda.”

Some artists come back though. Like Tom Alter, who drops by a couple of days later to meet a friend. He’s originally a Mussoorie man, and the last time he came to Kashmir was 24 years ago.

I meet him at a common friend's residence, where we’ve been invited for Eid and our host treats us to an elaborate feast of kebaabs, biryani, mutton rishta, chicken curry, paneer. Uncle Tom’s impressed.

Before he can burp, a shayari flows from his lips: "Do cheezon ke liye main banoo musalmaan. Ek seekh kabab aur doosra Waheeda Rahman."

More shayaris follow, as we travel 40 kms from Srinagar to the Rashtriya Rifles base in Beeru, on invitation from a friend in the army. When we reach there, our hosts are pleasantly surprised to Uncle Tom in tow.

We chat – about life in the army, how unfortunate the terror attacks in Mumbai were, how things are changing in Kashmir. At the end of it, comes one defining moment of Alter’s visit.

"Sir", a major says addressing Alter, the same man who for years remained a symbol of British imperialism in several Hindi movies, "Your role in Kranti curdled my blood. The way you said 'Bloody Indians!'…As a young boy, I felt like strangling you then. And today, you've walked into our karmabhoomi. It’s a great honour for us, Sir."

As drinks, music, and a game of basketball follow, the army men convince us that things have changed for better in Kashmir.

Maybe they're right. The next day, after Alter departs for Delhi, I set out for Gulmarg and Sonmarg to experience torrential snowfall. On the way, I notice kids, women – they appear to be straight out of a Majid Majidi film - walking about in gay abandon. Our vehicle attracts their curious glances. The women, sometimes slowly bite their protective scarf and smile, waving cheerfully as an afterthought. I feel welcome in their territory.

Still, Kashmir’s image as a hotbed of militancy now overshadows its past crown of 'paradise on earth'. Indian film-makers who once would spend months shooting there, now shoot in the Swiss Alps.

Things take a pleasant turn though, on my last day. As Ishfaq rows me across Dal lake, one last time, I click his picture and he asks me if I can send the photo to him. I assure him, I will if he gives me his postal address.

"Take down my e-mail ID," he says, taking me completely by surprise. "Which one do you want? Yahoo, Rediff, Hotmail..? I can put it on my Orkut profile later."

Maybe it’s true. Things are changing in Kashmir. And Orkut Buyyukokten has something to do with it.

(The above write-up appeared in DNA in the weekly column Open City.)

Why Dostana isn't a typical Karan Johar film

2008-11-14T23:42:00.000-08:00

Saw Dostana last evening to a packed house. And I still can't believe I watched a Karan Johar (KJ) film within its first weekend. In hindsight, I'm glad I watched it. Dostana isn't your typical KJ film. Here's why...

A KJ film has lots of Rona dhona. K2H2, KANK, K3G...they all had ample rona dhona. Even Kal Ho Na Ho made the tissue-paper boxes fly off shelves.
Dostana is different. There is only some Rona. And no Dhona at all. Thank you Karan.

A KJ film has atleast one long sermon. An unending dialogue usually from an SRK of a BigB with words like zindagi, khushi, maut, shaadi (take your pick) and this will make your mum / girlfriend reach for..what else.. but that box of tissues.
Dostana doesn't have even one sermon! Sahi hai. Picture dekhne aaye hain, lecture sunne nahin.

A KJ film has to have a Kadva chauth scene!
Dostana doesn't! Hooray, now bring on the popcorn. Even in the scene where there's a brief mention of it, you're spared of the tragedy of going through those kadva kadva scenes.

Next. Bridal wear! A KJ film has lots of them! At some points you think its a costume drama directed by Manish Malhotra.
This one doesn't have even ONE bridal wear scene. Yes, the 'supposedly' gay couple's mother does imagine her son in shaadi ka joda, but the duration of such moments is just thoda.

For a KJ film (or even Barjatya film), the whole world is one big marriage. And there are lines floating around like, 'its all about loving your parents, your maid, your driver...'
Dostana spares you the horror of such dimaag ko shots. There is just one corny line somewhere in the film, where things go all slow-motion and all, and they get very huggy-huggy..after saying 'yeh Dostana main nahin bhoolunga' or something like that. Chal theek hai. Director Tarun Mansukhani got emotional. Human, after all.

And tell me, which KJ film opens with a Shilpa Shetty bikini sequence? This one does! And you find John Abraham clicking pictures to glory in the next.. Garam masala anyone?

KJ films are about achieving sammaan, pyaar, ishq, falling in love.
Dostana actually highlights iissues in finding accomodation. Its true, getting a house on rent is actually difficult, unless of course if you bump into the house of a fashion magazine's editor only to find her hardly going to work! Need room? Will pay even at the cost of becoming gay! Gay, gay, gay, gay.. gay er saahibaan, pyaar mein sauda nahin..

Still, some KJ footprints still abound.

Dostana has Farah Khan's trademark dance steps, so you can make out that its a KJ film. (Since Farah dances only for KJ. Not for Gabbar.)

Only a KJ film can come up with lines like "Gabbar was gay, because all he would persistently ask was 'Kitne aadmi the'.

And my bhai-bondhoos from Ulhasnagar just phoned to tell me that the mere fact that Dostana is India's first mainstream-commercial--masala-gay-family entertainer is suggestive that it HAS to be a KJ film. Who else would make such an attempt, that has to fulfil all the above criteria?

Remember Kantaben? Who started making us laugh nervously as we sat with our parents watching those scene in Kal Ho Na Ho? KJ's emotional investments in the minds of our public about gay-giri have been ongoing since then. It moved to award functions.

When SRK-Saif did their gay act at Filmfare Awards Night, and audiences digested it, we knew KJ wasn't thinking straight.

Jo bhi hai, these are thoughts in hindsight.

Dostana is a fun watch, and if you haven't seen it yet, you're not far off the mark to expect that the humour will expand from the Kantaben plank throughout the film. Still, there are enough sequences that will keep you laughing till your stomach and jaws start hurting.

My rating * * * 1/2

Mutiny in diversity

2008-10-17T02:08:00.000-07:00

The daily commute in Mumbai’s local trains is also a great way of sensing the pulse of the masses. When it gets overcrowded and all you have is the train’s footboard to rest your feet on, all that talk about unity in diversity seems to become obsolete.

Deep rooted prejudices come to the surface and we turn into people with tempers similar to a volcano waiting to erupt. Some taunts I’ve received in the recent past prove this…

Like this man sitting next to me who got disgusted because he heard me speaking English on the phone. In chaste Marathi he asked me, “Beta, you're wearing a YouTube t-shirt, your bag has a Warner Bros. logo, and you're reading The Wall Street Journal (sic). Why are you traveling by second class? Go to the US, you’ll have a comfortable journey there.”

Like a Raj Thackeray look-alike from Dombivli, who was reading Saamna and borrowed my copy of HT Café only to tell me 20 minutes later, that he has thrown it off the train. “You should not be reading such stuff. How dare they publish articles on live-in relationships? It’s against our culture.”

Like this pan-chewing, pot-bellied man from Karjat who slept till Thane arrived and even though he saw me standing next to him, he refused to offer me his seat, because I did not appear Maharashtrian. “Thaamb re, baba. Pahile aaplya lokaanna basu dya!” (Implying, "Keep standing, let the Marathi manoos have a seat first.)

Like this Neral-bound smarty pants who threatened a sleepy-eyed Muslim gentleman to vacate his seat half an hour before the latter’s station arrived or else, “We'll do something serious about this! You've sat enough. You work in our city, use our resources and then you turn lazy when it comes to offering a seat to the sons of the soil?!”

Or like this group of overtly loud, talkative men from Badlapur who asked me to shoo off to Kolkata because I asked them to turn off the loudspeakers of their mobile phones, blaring loud Marathi folk music. (By the way, some of them own two mobile phones - one with the cheapest call tariffs, and the other one with the loudest speakers.)

I think deep down, we’re a deeply frustrated city. Our insecurities pop out occasionally in instances like these and that’s when you hear people mumbling: “Pata nahin kahaan kahaan se chale aate hain”.

Some lucky ones get to vent it out in a column like this, while the rest go blah reading it with a cuppa on a Saturday morning.

Ghosh who talks (Ghai next door)

2008-07-18T08:03:00.000-07:00

I'm late for a family get-together.

An old family friend has just relocated into our neighbourhood and by the time I join my uncle, Mr Ghosh for dinner, I realise we both are the last men standing. The rest of the gathering of about 20-odd people have already had drinks, dinner and left - my mom and dad included.

I'm embarassed for arriving so late, but aunty (Mrs Ghosh) convinces me otherwise and asks me to settle down so that she can serve us dinner quickly. A lavish spread of Bengali food has been prepared - bhaat, dal, maachher jhol, kosha maangsho (chicken curry), papad, salad, puris...the usual fare.

Ghosh uncle has just finished drowning a few pegs. He asks me to quickly "wash your hands and asses, wipe them clean and park them on the seat next to me". He is conversing with me in English and I follow his instructions religiously.

He's a bit nasty, I notice, but after a lifetime of bringing up a rascal like Jojo (he's a DJ today, but had bowled me out on a duck, 11 years ago when the pretty girls in the colony were standing by waiting for me to hit a six) - I can't expect him to be a Father Teresa. Jojo's in the US now, and uncle-aunty decided to migrate to Ambarnath, where life is much peaceful and serene compared to hustle-bustle of Andheri, where they brought up the rascal.

"I've been wanting to meet you," he says, as I sit on a chair, next to him. Aunty lays out two plates. "Your mom and me spoke briefly today and she says you're a very busy boy, eh? What are you studying?"

"I'm not studying. I'm a journalist with DNA," I reply, calmly. My skinny physique and lanky features have surprised many, when my profession is taken into context. Many believe its a profession for bearded saints. Uncle's reaction which followed, was predictable.

"You're a journalist? Full-time?" he asks. I nodded, smiling, mixing some dal and rice which aunty poured into our plates. A bowlful of chicken was also placed, and aunty asked us to tuck in.

"Hmmm, journalism is a challenging profession, eh? A journalist is supposed to know everything," he says, absorbing my response. He chews over what he has just heard. A 22-year old boy, whom he had seen only as a little kid several years ago, was now chomping on a chicken leg, while he was nibbling on mid-sized pieces. At 22, he would have spent most of his time jobless, sitting at Coffee House in Kolkata over tea and cigarettes, discussing Marx or Lenin with jobless pseudo-intellectuals.

So when I told him I'm a journalist, he didn't believe me. He asks aunty for puris and the way he tears into them, I think the food's getting massacred in his mouth.

"Who is your editor?" he asks, after a while. "I read your paper everyday, but I don't know who's in charge after Gautam Adhikari."

"R Jagannathan," I say, crunching on a papad.

"I remember Gautam Adhikari. He used to show up on the front page every now and then," he says, chomping. "So you report directly to this new man? You're what... an apprentice over there?"

"No," I reply, gnawing at the chicken leg. "I'm with DNA Money. Raj Nambisan heads DNA Money. I report to him."

"Nambisan?" he asks puzzled for a moment. "He's your editor? How come I haven't seen his name in the DNA Money, anytime? I do read the business pages most of the times..."

I tell him that he's the editor, so he supervises his team of reporters. "He writes occasionally," I emphasize. But I ask him whether he has seen my name ever in the paper. "I write more often than Mr Nambisan does," I point out.

He pours himself some gravy, trying to think. "No, I don't there is any Shonti Chaudhuri ever in DNA Money." I'm about to interrupt him, as I gulp, but he continues. "Lot of Bengali names I find though...Mukherji, Bhattacharya, Roy, Robin Ghosh.."

"Uncle, my good name is Arcopol. Arcopol Chaudhuri, you must have seen this name?" (Bengalis have two names for their kids. One is the good name. And the other is the nick-name - daak naam.)

Uncle looks up suddenly, moving himself away from his plate and gulps. His expression is of somebody who's prophecy has come true. "Ohh, so you are that Arcopol. You did some masturbation interview once, no?"

I shudder suddenly, at the mention of the "forbidden word" (atleast at a social dinner) and at the nodal connection point with my name. "Yes," I reply, smiling and a little embarassed, considering aunty is around. Uncle doesn't probe further. He seems to be in some grave thought. "But tell me," he continues, helping himself to some salad, "why doesn't this Nambisan write more often?"

I try to hunt for an answer. A spoonful of salad, helps me arrive at an analogy. Smiling at him, I say: "Now, Yash Chopra doesn't act in his own films, does he?" I hope that he will like my answer, but I'm wrong. He replies: "But Subhash Ghai does, doesn't he?"

I'm not pleased with the way this dinner is proceeding. "He writes sometimes, as I said. He's Subhash Ghai, then." I smile, hoping that this will end the director-editor comparisons.

"Raj Nambisan," he says once again as if its become some gayatri mantra for him. I'm a bit irritated. My stomach is nearly full and as aunty serves me two juicy rasgullas, I'm relieved. "Editors must be making nice money. I had a friend in The Telegraph and he would write under a pseudonym for many magazines. Mind you, he would rarely write for the The Telegraph. I'm sure your editor must also be doing the same, who knows!" he said, pointing the spoon at me, for emphasis.

Bengalis, I tell you. They'd be nightmares in chemistry labs, arriving at the conclusion even before the experiments begin.

But frankly, then I didn't like the thought of Mr Nambisan doing shady writing contracts. I don't think he does anything like that.

I suddenly pictured him running through the mountains, in a scene straight out of Jurassic Park. Hundreds of dinosaurs ran after him chasing him asking for his articles through pseudonym. They had weird names - some were called The Economist, The Wall Street Journal, Mint, Fortune, Forbes, Financial Times! There was a desperate dino as well, old and tired, and it had the letters BS written on it. But Mr Nambisan dodged them all.

He ran in the direction of a calm dinosaur standing in the distance. This one appeared to be vegetarian and with more brains than the rest. He wasn't eating shrubs or grass, but from the looks of it, this salt-n-pepper haired dino was simply crunching numbers. Mr Nambisan continued running towards him, panting. My eyesight is always blurry whenever I'm day-dreaming, but I think that dino's name started with the letters J, A, G, G, A, N or something.

Another rasgulla poured into my plate by aunty, shakes me out of my reverie. Uncle Ghosh is licking the ras (juice) off his fingers, still stuck with the Nambisan-Subhash Ghai issue. "I think I'll check out this Nambisan tomorrow. DNA old issues aachhe, na?" he asks aunty. She nods, with a look, that says, 'There goes my plan of selling off the raddi tomorrow.'

"By the way," Uncle says, drawing me back into a conversation. "Your father used to share a drink or two with me, when you were a little boy. He refused to join me today. Why has he stopped drinking?"

"He has?" I ask, surprised to know this. Finally, this dinner has come to an end with some good news to go to bed with.

"Bah! You don't know? And you call yourself a journalist." He shakes his head, cleaning up his plate a bit, licking his fingers.

As an afterthought, he adds, "I told you journalism is a challenging job. Journalists are supposed to know everything."

I decide never to be late for a family get-together again.

Washroom is a great leveller

2008-07-12T04:10:00.000-07:00

A stand-up comedian once famously remarked that Hindi film screenplays never show heroes and heroines visiting the loo. My parents used to tell me “Beta, celebrities are also humans. Just like us, they also wake up, go to toilet, brush their teeth, have bath, eat breakfast and go to work,” but I wasn’t convinced.

I’ve seen films, so many of them, some even three-four hours long and never noticed any member of the cast taking a leak even once. I would have expected at least the hero to make a quick visit to relieve himself before the all-famous climax, but no. The script-writers have chosen not to allow toilet-breaks to our film-stars.

Last month, however, the tide turned, as it were. Tinsel-town decided to convince me that’s its denizens were human too; and this happened not on the screen, but in person!
Picture this: I’m about to go into the ballroom of a five-star hotel for a press conference and before I go in, I enter the washroom for a quick hair-check. The place is unusually crowded, with tall, burly and decidedly unfriendly muscle-men looking down upon me at my unwelcome entry.

I proceed to the wash-basin dodging three men whose expressions convince me that I’m not invited. It’s not until I’ve washed my face and casually glanced into the adjacent mirror that I notice the treasure that these men are protecting.

A few feet away from me is the reigning star of the day — cigarette in one hand, blazer on the other — combing his hair, ready to dive into another promotional event. The reigning King of Bollywood quickly stubs out his cigarette, does his business, and is then whisked away by his bodyguards. I feel like a storm has passed over me.

I stand rooted on the spot and look at my reflection in the mirror. My jaws drop and I let out a muffled scream, thumping the air, as I realise the momentousness of the occasion.

Since then, by some odd coincidence, I have run into several filmy, celebrity types in that most hallowed of institutions, the men’s room. Once I even struck up a conversation in the stall next door. I’ve realised that the atmosphere in a loo creates a strange level playing field where the celebrity has no option but to surrender to nature’s demands. It’s a beautiful way of bridging the huge divide between a celebrity and a commoner. They say that death is a great leveler. But I think the loo is even better.

I couldn't sleep that night

2008-06-29T12:40:00.000-07:00

10pm. I trot my way home through the rain-soaked street.

A crowd has gathered near the neighboring building and an ambulance is parked next to it. The men in the crowd stand grim, talking in whispers. The soft cacophony of television sets from this cozy neighbourhood, is missing.

Someone has died, I presume.
. . .
Midnight. Dinner's over, I've curled into bed after a tiring day at work. The weather's pleasant, I don't need the creaking fan over me. I'm twisting and turning in bed - the recent illness has made breathing difficult.

I can hear faint rumble from the crowd standing in the neighbouring building's compound. I lie straight in bed and hear another ambulance entering the street, followed by a few cars, who park themselves, their sirens blaring through the midnight calm.

And then, the mourning begins.

Cries. Hundreds of them. Women. Maybe beating their chests, tearing their head apart in grief. Pained over the loss.

The howling gets louder and I shiver as I imagine the scene unfolding at a distance of 20-odd metres from my bedroom. I still don't know who has died. I still don't know how many have died.

I get up and walk into my balcony. About 100-150 people are on the road standing there, in a sea of white. A clay-pot containing the holy fire is being circulated. The corpse lies at the center as the priests finish the rituals. The atmosphere is swathed in grief. The women cry their hearts out.

But something's different here.

I've seen people sob at funerals. Weep. And hug each other at the inevitability or maybe the natural circumstances of the death. Old age, maybe. Or an illness. But I notice a certain violent aggression. Bahut bura hua, a cheesy script-writer would have said here.

And then, as if on cue, the street-dogs begin howling too. The melee goes on till 1:30am or so, and as the crowd swells, the women's mourning reaches a new pitch, sending a chill down my spine.

I've seen only one funeral in my family, yet. My grandma, who passed away due to Alzheimers. While we all miss her, death is a state that is welcome, in diseases like Alzheimers, which today are incurable. At her funeral therefore, the crying and howling, was nothing, compared to the scene unfolding in front of my eyes.

By 3:00am, the body is taken to the cremation grounds a few kms away, the crowd eases out, the mourning continues, albeit softer this time. It becomes clear that there's been one death. Its a family which we never ever interacted with, but I remembered that it marriage, about 2-3 years ago.

I head off to sleep.

The next day, the following story emerges.
The mourning was over a 24 yr old middle class Maharashtrian married woman, whose body arrived in my neighbourhood after post-mortem.

The cause of her death - Thrown off the terrace of the high-rise building by her in-laws, after she refused to respond to their demands for dowry. The in-laws are now being tried in court.
. . . . . . .

Motoyuva, chhotoyuva

2008-04-27T02:26:00.000-07:00

She cares about me. And my cellphone.

"Don't put it like that into your pocket. In all the rush and jostling within the train, someone will flick it off your pockets!"

Moms, I tell you. I'm getting ready for work. Tying my shoelaces. And then this.

"While stepping into the train, would't it be a good idea to put your cellphone in your bag?"

Dad and mum, both decided to gift me this phone - Nokia N70 - much to my delight and surprise, when all I was expecting was a Motoyuva or something. Watching mom handing out the brand new N70 from the cupboard, wrapped in its box, was a treat to the senses. It bowled me over.

"Your dad has already lost an expensive watch in the train. Somebody just flicked it off his wrist as he landed at Kalyan station!"

The N70 was a gift from them. I'd topped my college in BMM (Journalism) in my final year and also earned a place in the top 5 Journalism students in Mumbai University. The marksheet made them hold their heads high, especially after my extremely disappointing show at the HSC exams in the Science stream.

"It's an expensive phone. And I think you have all your contacts and phone numbers in it. If you lose it, you'll be in trouble."

I've already come close to losing it and damaging it badly, on a couple of occasions. But then, some objects are made for their owners. Like me. And my N70.

"It's not too difficult to flick it off your pants, I tell you!"

True. As if she's been a professional pick-pocket once.

"Your dad always keeps his phone hidden deep in his bag. That's a little extreme, I admit, but you must be careful. Keep your hand on your pockets protectively."

As if protecting a tumor inside my trousers. Good heavens!

"Go safely. Don't have anything cold outside. Have your lunch on time. Don't delay. And call me from office, sometime.You toh don't call only."

I kiss her softly on the cheeks. And give her a hug. And then touch her feet, as I step out of the house ready to embrace another brand new day. I love my mom.

Now, back to my N70.

How will India's media boom survive the talent crunch?

2008-04-22T12:00:00.000-07:00

In what seems like a dream-run for the next generation of journalists - the so called beholders of India's democratic information ecosystem - finding a job is not going to the first problem he/ she will have to worry about, when they pass out of grad school.

Which one to choose, is the million-dollar question.

There are so many jobs on the platter and entry level salaries are surprisingly high, for people who are still not equipped the required skill-sets. Training courses for once, specially like BMM (Bachelors of Mass Media) in Mumbai, are light-years away from an industry standard.

And with the University doing away with the Entrance Test for First Year BMM, filtering the best talent just got difficult. By rough estimates, this year's BMM-batch alone, which comprises nearly 500 journalism students from Mumbai, will see confirmed placements of atleast 200 of them. What happens to the rest of them?

Some of them, of course, will pursue post-graduation studies, thanks to unsatisfactory feeling BMM, as a course gives you. At the end of 3-yr course, a student's knowledge becomes extremely theoretical and focus gets blurred. Even post-graduation or diploma degrees in journalism, I'm told, give you the same feeling that undigested good generates.

For example, in the final year of journalism, Public Relations as a subject is something that syllabus makers have criminally given a miss. News-gathering on a variety of beats, working in B2B publications, networking, source building and news-sense are some of the major loop-holes in this myopic course.

Moreover, for an industry which in the next one year is going to witness a slew of business channel launches - they desperately need skilled talent - the BMM course is doing almost nothing to ensure that graduates pass out with atleast a fair knowledge of operating beta cameras, collecting sound bytes, reading off-the prompter and editing video on consoles. The syllabus is crammed with too many things at the same time and timings allotted to lectures are too short.

Which is why, retaining skilled talent is going to be difficult. While there is too much training on how to write a good report and edit, et all., there is absolutely no training on surviving in the profession...on sticking it though. Almost when the journalist begins to get into the groove of his beat, he gets noticed. And getting noticed, it seems is the worst thing that could happen to his organisation. What will it do? Stop giving him bylines? Lol...

Wage hikes alone are not going to work, today. I work in an organisation - DNA - which started the wage hike in the first place. Three years ago, thanks to the launch of this newspaper - and a couple of others - wages across the board for journalists, sales staff, editors were hiked by 100%. Ironically, it is the same organisation, that today, is facing a terrible talent crunch, especially in beats like business where atleast a substantial backgrounder about business news is important at entry level.

And this has got nothing to do with the paper's credentials. Take DNA, for example. According to industry readership surveys, DNA is the fastest growing newspaper in India. Its readership in Mumbai is second only to The Times of India and it has left competitors HT, Indian Express, Mid-day, Mumbai Mirror, Mint and others far behind.

This gives rise to a simple fact, that department heads, HR managers and editors must accept. Wage hikes are no longer a criteria for retaining talent. The person is simply going to wait for the hike, take it and paste the numbers on his next resume as 'current CTC' and expect atleast 25-30% higher CTC in return from his next employer. All of this, within months of getting the raise.

Its the nature of talent companies are dealing with. Young employees are fickle consumers. Dangle a fatter wallet in front of him and they'll fall for it. Of course, perks like a 5-day week work routine and cordial workplace are a huge attraction.

Which makes me come to the question - what are some effective ways to retain talent, that is settling into your media organisation? Better pay-packages? 5-day week? Regular meetings? Get-togethers? Going out for dinner sometimes? Note: A journalist-driven workplace is different than any other organisation. Doing all of the above may not be possible always. Especially, for a newspaper that is growing and expanding into newer markets, input costs are very high, margins are low and salary hikes across the board are not the first thing the CEO likes to think about when it comes to retaining talent.

Share your thoughts.

Sunny Deo, Bobby Deo, P L S Apply Deo

2008-04-21T13:00:00.000-07:00

Looks like I'll need a first class season ticket.

No matter how cheap deodarants are sold outside railway stations (Haan..bolo..eksau bees rupaiya mein do..!), Mumbai's Indians (lol!) will still remain stinky poos. Whatever happened to the good old deo? Rexona deserves to tear its hair apart. So does Set Wet Zatakk!

Coz, neither does the Marathi manoos apply any deo, nor the paan chewing Bihari. The Gujju uncle who boards the local train at Ghatkopar has applied powder before he leaves for work in the morning. But on his way pack, Jignesh-bhai smells like dhokla soaked in cat urine.

Mornings are bearable. Everyone's bathed clean, with oily hair. A tall guy like me can almost smell each one's hair and guess which hair-oil it must be. Ditto for shampoos, but that's only for Sundays.

The heat, however, takes its toll on the way back home. As you enter the compartment, into a semi-crowded human jungle, you can almost feel the blast of hot air - a mix of perspiration, carbon dioxide coming through flaring nostrils and the natural warmth of their bodies. But what hits you more is their body language. In literal terms, they simply don't want you there. That's second class for you.

Except that people won't spit outside at the drop of a hat, it won't be far too different in the first class compartment. Passenger numbers have increased way beyond capacity in the first class. People's disposable incomes have gone up, and with most companies paying for employee's regular conveyance, more and more people travel by first class these days.

Still, those red and yellow stripes on the body of the compartment are a dependable filter if you want to avoid spitty-arm, chest scratching men. And in the first class, the smell of the sweat is different. Can't say its bearable, though. Stale deo is still better than no deo.

Come to think of it, if you had to suggest a good deodarant to Mumbaikars, what would you recommend?

Some learnings

2008-04-18T12:19:00.000-07:00

Its been almost four months working at DNA Money. I've learnt several things - pros and cons of working in a big organisation, evils of procrastination, perils of laying your life bare in front of the office hypocrite and some more...

Some of these learnings have been from other sources - senior correspondents, friends and family. Some of it, I've learnt myself. Listed below are some thoughts which have somehow struck a balance with I've been taught and what my conscience told me.

1. Love your parents. They're God's greatest gift.

2. Work, like there's no tomorrow. Some people will tell you, "Man, you need to relax...Man why don't you take an off...Man, why do you work seven days a week?" Fuck them.

3. Trust your gut feeling. That feeling, when you smell a story. That feeling when you know your analysis of the story is going to be better than anybody else. That feeling, when you know you can do this story better than anybody else.

4. You don't choose a story. A story chooses you. Its spiritual. Some stories are meant just for you. Within your limitations, you can do the best justice to it.

5. Nothing feels better than seeing your boss happy with your work. Don't try too hard to impress him. Impress yourself and your peers. They're the best judge of my work. Every time they see my story, it should remind them what they have missed. Don't work too hard on PR pitches, unless they're exclusive. Your peers have been pitched the same story as well.

6. Don't make close friends in office. A workplace is a workplace. Keep relations cordial. The ones who make you uncomfortable, stay away from them.

7. Associate with people whom you can learn from. Associate with people who tell you something new every time you talk to them.

8. Ask the office bitch to fuck-off. She's been taking sadistic pleasure foul-mouthing about me. Time for a reverse sweep. Stop reacting whenever she comes around.

9. I must not try hard to make too many friends. Some will be best friends. Some will be close friends. Some will remain colleagues. Others will remain mere acquaintances. Friends will come and go.

10. Just keep working. Be high on work and knowledge.

Dealing with PR professionals

2008-04-18T11:47:00.000-07:00

Be polite. If you do not see a possibility of a story, tell them so. If the boss has trashed the story even after you've filed, tell them so, too.

Lets face it. You get at least 10-15 calls a day in the form of invites, pitches, press releases. One can't carry all of it. And what's worse, sometimes it is coming to you after travelling through ET, Exchange4media, HT and others...

The next time a PR professional says this - Send me a list of questions that I will get answered from the client and then I shall arrange an interaction - hang up. In journalism schools, we weren't taught it would happen like this. I don't know how many journalism schools actually teach what role PR plays. Guess its the old school thought - PRs are publicists - they just make the communication longer.

Sending a list of questions is almost like leaking the question paper before the exams. And why, may I know, would the client need a set of questions about his own business? He's the best informed person and should have stats, history at the tip of his tongue. If he doesn't, then he isn't good at what he is doing and doesn't deserve to be written about.

On second thoughts, maybe the client really wants to interact openly with the media. Maybe he has stats at the tip of his tongue. Maybe the inside story is that it is the PR professional that is the snob and not the client - "Call up the journo, ask him to send a list of questions and get 'the client' to answer them one by one.." if this is the brief PR industry is giving to young PR consultants, God help them. I mean, is the PR acting as a dalaal here? A real intermediary?

It is at times like these that I feel PR has ruined that sacrosanct journo-industry relationship. The common perception is that, suddenly industry felt they need to communicate with the media in an orderly manner and they employed PR professionals. The real truth, though, seems like the industry wanted to show-off "how busy we are and you need to fix an appointment telecon". All in a manner of snobbish-ness.

All's not bad though. I've come across experienced PR professionals who have such a sound knowledge of the industry, that they know how to pitch right. Their insights are invaluable for my stories.

My heart went out to a PR lady recently who gave me her client's number - her client is a big-shot mind you - and asked me to call him up 'straight-away'. "No, you just call him up. He's not picking my calls either. Just call him. What's the point if I make it lengthier for you?" she said. I hope her breed increase.

There's hope for Indian television

2007-12-01T11:35:00.000-08:00

After several years of suhaags, sindoors, saas and bahus, 2007 may well end up as the year that steered the wheel around for Indian television viewers. Yes, there's hope for Indian television.

If you thought programming on Hindi entertainment channels was all about soaps, think again. The slew of new channel launches brings an interesting mix of experimental shows and fresh comedies.

And why not? Considering Hindi news channels are serving up enough drama in the garb of news, its time the mass entertainment channels pulled up their socks to offer something different.

It is a challenging premise. Indian viewers are not best of samplers since they are thoroughly loyal, even though they (mature female audiences, especially) in retrospect, might bitch about regressive Tulsis and Parvatis. Some new channels have braced up to this challenge upfront. Some have targeted new age urban audiences. And some are bringing top-notch international content from across the world.

Who needs a remote when Remote Control is on?
First up, a worthy mention about Remote Control on INX Media's newly launched 9X. Truly, its time to crown the serial's producer - Hats Off Productions - as the king of television comedy. J D Majethia's characters spin hilarious situations in this Monday prime-time half-hour show. The show's concept brings back memories of Waghle Ki Duniya, since the setting is similar. A simple, well written comedy about the common man. And the Golden Eye Channel. (Hyuk hyuk hyuk!)

Also on 9X, JamegiJodi.com is worth a watch. The comedy, which marks Endemol's first inroads into television fiction is a commendable effort. The serial offers a healthy dose of situational humour bordering on the slapstick, but crisply edited.

Sony - SAB's new mantra: Non-saas bahu shows
Observe the themes of the Sony-SAB's new list of shows and it's easy to figure out that the channels have decided to give the saas-bahu serials a miss. Will it work or not? Perhaps only time (and TAM) will tell. In the meantime, there's relief in the form of Kucch Is Tarah, Amber Dhara, Viruddh, Jersey No.10 amongst others.

Quite a contrast to Zee's weekday prime time programming - totally saturated with lathery, frothy soaps. You know what I mean. Pick your keywords - dulhann, betiyaan, saat and phere. And if that was not enough, it has introduced a Naginn for weekends. Eeks! But the snake-fest is doing very well in the interiors, I hear.

Good Times are here
NDTV's lifestyle channel 'NDTV Good Times' has a must-watch roster of shows for the tech-savvy new age young urban Indian. T3, What's the Next Big Thing hosted by the suave Rajeev Makhani are informative, with high-end production values. Lounge hosted by Rajat Kapoor has improved considerably after the initial hiccups. The channel does have its share of dampeners though, prime amongst them being the Great Indian Love Challenge. The show is old wine in a new bottle, with similar concepts explored earlier by Channel [V] Crush and MTV Love Ke Liye.

Times Now's Total Recall
I came across this gem today afternoon. Total Recall on Times Now explores the bygone era of Indian television, the characters, genres and defining moments that have scripted the television revolution that we see today. Malgudi Days fans, don't miss next week's episode - an interview with the grown up Swamy (yes, the same one from Swamy and friends) is on the cards.

Lagegi to drop title?
There's buzz that UTV Bindass' driver show Lagegi is likely to go for a name change. The stand-up comedy show hosted by the likeable Mantra and Aniruddh could well land up calling itself Hass de India. Sad, but true. The show's comic lines were doing quite well for itself, at least within its target audience. Looks like Roshan Abbas wants to encompass a larger audience base into a laughing spree. So now truly, sabki lagegi.

Rant of the week: Rama rama kya hai drama? Sahara One's Jjhoom India is witnessing too much of mudslinging within the judges and contestants. Shekhar Suman deserves to be rapped on the knuckles for his rude remarks to host Rahul Vaidya. But who cares? The uproars seem too scripted to be true. And whats with the jordaar taaliyaan after every outburst? Tch tch.

Chant of the week: Weekdays 10:30 pm on SAB - watch America's Funniest Videos (AFV). God bless Sony and God bless the handy cam. Had it not been for the candid video clips recordings, we'd never have sampled American humor at its best. The videos are bound to leave you in splits.

The Great Indian Procastrinator

2007-11-08T13:34:00.000-08:00

Festivals are great procastrinators.

And they are used with good effect in India. A box of sweets, a hug or a handshake and a few sweet mumblings is all it takes to wipe the slate clean. A Makar Sankranti is a good occasion to forget all past issues and begin a relationship afresh. Not only for Sankranti, the thought largely applies to all festivals.

However, is a festive wipe of the slate necessarily a good thing? How many of us can withstand the guilty come clean so easily?

We are a nation which sleeps in guilt over ghosts we may have never seen. We are subconsciously troubled over the fact that, as much as we celebrate our diversity, it is still the root cause of all dissatisfaction among masses.

We are still unsettled by the fact that while we may exchange material posessions over Diwali, a part of this world may never see a festival that offers so much visual delight. And yet, it is the festivals which we hope will act as the leveller to all our follies, ghosts and greviences, every time.

My strong opinion is, that a festival only partially manages to succeed in the mission it sets out for. The purpose can be only fully served if every time, we vow to neutralise the negatives our follies, ghosts and guilts. And this, I believe, can be done only through constructive resolutions.

My question therefore is - shouldn't festivals be an occasion for new resolutions?
What do you think? Share your thoughts.

Caffeine injected love

2007-11-08T12:43:00.000-08:00

A lot can happen over a cup of coffee.

Hands can be held. Lips can be locked. Deals can be signed. Bonds can be made. Memories can be revived. Hearts can be broken. Abuses can be hurled. Presentations can be planned. Wallets can be exposed. A lot can happen over a simple cup of coffee.

So much so, that today the Cafe Coffee Days, Baristas and McDonalds are playing a major role in the steering the course of human relationships. What is it, about these locations that is driving people to it? What really happens at these hangouts thats propelling a whole generation of caffeine injected love stories?

Or is something about coffee that works the magic? Your guess is as good as mine. Share it here.

Cabbie cabbie mere dil mein khayal aata hai

2007-10-30T09:35:00.000-07:00

The Readers' Digest survey which labelled Mumbai as rude could be partly true, if one has had an experience with the city's cabbies. Most of them are downright arrogant, refusing to ply you to your desired destination.

However, the reason why I say the survey is 'partly true' is that for every 10 rude cabbies, you'll have atleast one cabbie who is polite and responsible. And in Mumbai, that's a lot of good cabbies. A recent experience in boarding a cab from Colaba reaffirmed this opinion.

I'd tried about 7 cabs whether they would ply me to Churchgate station. A curt 'No' was the reply from all of them.

"What's wrong about Churchgate?" I asked one of them, dejected.
"Arey... there are so many, why don't you ask them?" replied one.

Frustrated (and determined to write a blog on this), I moved ahead, still searching, when from a far distance, I saw this cabbie with a 'Chalo...tum ko lekar... chale' smile , burgeoning me to come in. From the looks of its, it seemed he'd take me anywhere I ordered him to. He waved at me. I waved back asking him to halt.

The conversation that followed, was a pleasant surprise. Here we go..one, two three.. zatak!

Cabbie: Saar..ek taraf se aage aa jaiye, please saar...baithiye..! Saamne aa jaiye!
Me: Churchgate station?
Cabbie: Kyun nahin, saar? Bas baith hi jaiye, uss meter ko zara down kijiye..haan bas!
Me: Hmm.. (relieved, shutting the door, sighs)

Cabbie: Saar, kya badhiya perphume lagaya hai. Kaunsa hai?
Me: Yeh? (giggles with surprise) Zatak.
Cabbie: Deo hai kya spray?
Me: Erm.. Deospray.
Cabbie: Same wohi hai kya, jisme sab girls idhar udhar se uss aadmi ke paas aati hain?
Me: Kaun sa? (wonders) Oh.. nahin. Woh toh Axe hai. This is Zatak.
Cabbie: Accha, lekin khushboo badhiya hai. Iska naam zatak nahin, zhakaas hona chahiye, nahin?
Me: (smiles)

Cabbie: Memsaab se milne aaye the?
Me: Kya? (surprised)
Cabbie: Aap apni memsaab se milne aaye the?
Me: (smiling) Nahin.. ek meeting ke liye aaye the.
Cabbie: Wohi, memsaab se meeting tha?
Me: (giggles) Nahin.. office ka meeting tha. (smiles again)

Cabbie: Aap naukri karte hain?
Me: Haan. Andheri mein. Tum kahaan ke ho, bhai?
Cabbie: Hum to saar hai Kalyan se.
Me: Arrey waah..hum aap ke wahan Ambarnath ke rehne waale hain.
Cabbie: Roz up down karte hain kya?
Me: Nahin nahin, Andheri mein rehna padta hai. PG ke taur par. Vahin mera office hai.
Cabbie: Har meeting ke pehle deospray lagana padta hai? Yeh Zatak?
Me: (laughs, thinking about it) Kabhi kabhi. (spots a babe crossing the road) Bambai mein hasina ko dekhkar pasina aa jaata hai na.
Cabbie: Woh toh hai (smiles). Accha bataiye saar, aapko Eros ke paas chhod doon toh chalega na?
Me: Chalega, no problem.

Cabbie: Zatak kitne ka aata hai? 130?
Me: Haan.. aisa hu kuch. 140 shaayad.
Cabbie: Toh aap kya Zatak leke ghoomte hain?
Me: Haan.
Cabbie: Don't mind saar, hum par bhi zara spray kar denge. Acchi khushbu aa jayegi.
Me: Haan, haan, kyun nahin.. (opens the bag, sprays some on him)
Cabbie: Thank you saar, abhi accha lag raha hai. (pause) Kaunsa flavour hai saar?
Me: Pata nahin. Orange hai shaayad. Accha hai na?
Cabbie: Haan woh toh hai. Lo, aa gaya aapka Eros. Woh saamne isstation.

Me: (peering into the meter) Kitna hua?
Cabbie: Total hua pandhrah rupaye, lekin aapne humein spray lagaye, isliye hum saar aapse sirf phorteen rupees lenge.
Me: Waah bhai, kamaal karte ho. Yeh lo (hands out the change.)
Cabbie: Thank you saar. Happy journey saar.
Me: (gets out of the cab) Thank you. Aapko bhi. Jidhar bhi aap jayeein. (smiles, waves)
Cabbie: Take care saar.

There's something about Ramu

2007-09-08T16:39:00.000-07:00

Okay, so everybody's derived sadistic pleasure out of Ram Gopal Varma Ki Aag and its subsequent collapse. My editorial director Thomas Abraham particularly likes to chestbeat about the how Varma is a "twit" to make a remake of Sholay. All he can suggest is that RGV se bhaag.

I object to this issue on two fronts that people fail to realize - One, is that people somewhere knew down the line that the film would in NO WAY be as good as the original. So, the moment the critics panned it, audiences also went into the "I told you so," mode.

Two, nobody for that matter admired RGV's enthusiasm for the film, least of all realise that here was a man making a film centred around a villain, rather than a conventional hero.

So with RGV Ki Aag, here is a film whose villian was pegged as its USP, and for many viewers it must have been the prime reason for watching it in the first place. Some "gurus" believe that the original Sholay itself was an erroneous script, since Gabbar as the villain shot to fame quicker than the 'positive' characters. RGV exploited the same sentiment and pegged a film around him, titling him 'Babban'.

RGV, however screwed it up in the adaptation to the current milieu. Mumbai's underworld has been quiet since a long time. Varma's earlier gems on the subject have made audiences acclimatised to this setting and it comes across as repetitive today.

RGV should learn a thing or two from Vishal Bharadwaj, who skilfully adapted Macbeth and Othello into gems like Maqbool and Omkara respectively.
---
But the saddest story came only after Aag released. Pritish Nandy has announced plans to make a prequel, a remake, a sequel and an animated version of the same old Sholay. Talk about obsession with old ideas and a vacuum of new concepts. If only that bald head of Nandy's struck a eureka spark, he'd do it. Otherwise he's quite a bum.

PNC's plans are only being echoed by some more remakes which by the way are actually coloured versions of good old Guide by Ketan Anand. Goldstone Technologies has acquired the rights to digitally colour the film and re-release it.

The trend will give a lot of veterans a chance for their aakhri khwaish to see old movies in colour. Also, it might possibly lure the current Gen X to experience golden days of yore.

What worries me though, is the direction in which the industry is heading. A man like Pritish Nandy can do wonders. He almost did so with a brave Chameli and a tongue-in-cheek Pyar Ke Side Effects. If only he had those grey hairs to differentiate the right from the wrong...

This reminds me of Lagaan, the making of which I recently saw on VCD, in the form of Chale Chalo. The film attracted all the attention from its cast, crew, media, foreign press only because of its unique screenplay and storyline. If only, we could create that celluloid magic again.

Another round of gems please, oh you industrywallas...!

Bollywood talking BIG

2007-09-06T12:22:00.000-07:00

Bollywood is the big adda
Bollywood is talking BIG in sheer numbers. The corporatization of the Hindi film industry is suddenly taking giant strides on the global frontier and testimony to this is UTV's Ronnie Screwvala, who's now on the cover of Newsweek. The media conglomerate is going places not just in terms of his Bollywood and television plans (8-10 TV channels), but also for his Hollywood projects. Hats off to this bawa gentlemen who's minting money in return for good, solid entertainment.

Welcome the titans
The Bollywood success story is seeing some biggies emerge in the entire scenario. Yashraj is huge, alright but new players emerging are Eros, Reliance and UTV. Eros recently received funding from Citibank group to the tune of $400 million, especially for its film production business and this I think, speaks volumes for the industry as a whole which is seeing investments from non-film players. Citibank is a banking company, after all.

SUB ka bheja fry
About me, things have reached a crucial juncture at work. I've discovered a firm footing on desk, and I'm learning it quick and enjoying it. I've discovered that reporting is not my forte, nor is pestering people to give me a story. I'm enjoying subbing and of late, rarely being pulled up by my managing editor for subbing goof-ups. It's a good sign and moreover he's acknowledged it, that I'm potential subbie in the making. An industry senior says that the print medium has a dearth of good sub-editors and I could offer my services to Print, in the coming days. Let's see. The desk is not a bad place to be. And I can do features alongside. Makes it more relaxed and focused.

Chak de Indiantelevision!
Team Indiantelevision.com will watch Chak De India today at Fun Republic. That's about 40 of us. It's a part of a corporate team-building exercise. We can draw inspiration from this film to function much better as a team, by pushing harder towards better quality work. It's a different story though, that most of us have already seen the film. It's also another different story that the film is 'tax-free' now that the office has arranged for a trip. :-)

There she goes
Our editorial team faced a blow this week when our 'centre-forward' Renelle put in her papers. She'll join Vir Sanghvi-headed INX News in October. She's been with us for over a year, rising from a trainee journalist to staff reporter to sub-editor to senior reporter. She's an asset to the team apart from being a friend and a wonderful colleague to me. I've learnt a lot from her and I wish her all the best, although it makes me nervous how we'll cope up without her.

The buzz, though is that we're poaching senior journos from DNA Money and HT Cafe. This is good news. The value of the brand will go higher if journalists from print publications turn to the web. It helps us garner much more respect not only as a brand, but also as a web-based B2B medium.

Muse paper

2007-08-22T11:10:00.000-07:00

Its late evening.

I'm at busy at work, uploading stories on another website. The atmosphere in the editorial room is relaxed - we've finished our work for the day, my managing editor and colleagues have signed out.

My editorial director Thomas Abraham is sitting a few desks away in his cubicle. He resembles Voldemort (more on that, later) and is playing some of the most melodious English classics. I've not been much of a rock music aficionado all my life, but I must admit, this music is inspiring. What lyrics!

----

Saw Transformers today. The movie makes for great pop-corn entertainment, but its half-baked characters were a total turn-off. The plot has several loopholes since it never really makes it clear and elaborate on the motive and purpose of the attack and defence at various stages.
Yes, the Special Effects were eye-popping alright, but then even Spiderman and Superman have great SFX. But they score in their finely etched characters.
The auditorium was half-packed even though it was the morning show at the neighbouring Fame Adlabs multiplex and all the patrons were college going youngsters. From the look of it, all had a good time watching it and the movie is likely to achieve cult status, thanks to its SFX, similar on the lines of 300.
I give the movie a three-star rating.

----

Food!
Discovered the most fabulous Chicken Pulav at the neighbouring Cafe Safar restaurant. And that too, by chance. Whatever happens, is for the good of everyone.
My editor and myself were supposed to attend a press conference at Land's End. The occasion - Vijay Mallya would grace the launch of the tennis stars for the Kingfisher open. I thought we'd go, for sure and hence cancelled my dabba. We didn't make it though. It took us a while to get the stories ready on the site. The Delhi bureau has been active off late with both Sujit and Bhushan sending in stories on a timely basis. But damn, the Vijay Mallya party was a glamorous evening I hear! :-)

----

Adversity introduces a man to himself. That's one quote, that has kept me going all this week. Stories are difficult to come by and I'm finding the desk more and more addictive. I guess, I enjoy the clean-up act (sub-editing, proof-reading) more, rather than pestering people for stories.

I've realized over a period of time that there are two kinds of journalists - one, who is the curious, pestering types, loves chasing stories and two, the observant one. The latter is good at spotting trends providing more analysis and thus representing the larger picture. I think I fit into the latter.

Channel pe channel pe channel

2007-07-30T10:25:00.000-07:00

Black current wonders how our gharwaalis will stick on to existing TV channels.
By the end of this year, we're expecting about 4 new General entertainment channels - all modelled on Sony and Star Plus and then there are the youth based channels as well.

You have INX Media's new channel, then there's one from BAG films and media, then the Viacom-18 thingy, ZeeNext, SaharaTwo, UTV Bindass...

And not to be missed the Sameer Nair helmed NDTV Imagine! Just imagine..

Phew! I need more eyes.

Mornings at Fame

2007-07-28T10:25:00.000-07:00

Morning shows at Fame Adlabs rock. Period.

Do not mistake that as a plugged story, they did not pay me to write this. I recently saw Harry Potter and Order of the Phoenix (order, order!!) in the 9:30am show at Fame Andheri, bang opposite my workplace. Its a steal at Rs.40 a ticket, that too at a plush multiplex with those couch seats. Note: It's located in one of the most expensive real estate properties in the suburbs - Lokhandwala - and a stone's throw away is competition in the form of Cinemax and Fun Republic. Surprisingly, the auditorium was almost half full - most of them were couples who wanted to start their day off with some heavy duty love-making in the midst of spells, charms and Expecto Patronum. Just goes to show that no matter how weird the show timing be, pricing is a big factor that can pull in the crowds.

-

Our managing editor Godson Adam threw a free lunch for us recently. The food rocked and so did the dessert that followed. What impressed me most about him and always does is the fact that he's so humble and down to earth in nature. I wish him a wonderful life ahead and pray that he gets married soon. He's around 40 years old and with a witty brain like that, I wonder how he's still single. Ladies! Go for him!

-

Another mention about Godson Adam.
In journalism, every word counts. There is a lot of thought that must be put behind every single word that goes into a copy. A recent session of copy-editing by Adam impressed me thoroughly and I have tried to borrow a lot from him.

The story was about the Subhash Chandra promoted Essel Group's Digital Media Convergence Limited's foray into mobile television, through a tie-up with Government owned BSNL. I'd filed the story and Adam was restructuring it. Or so it seemed.

Initially he began what I'd describe as 'butchering of copy'. But as I stood there and observed him edit, I almost could read his mind and feel the amount of thought and conviction that was being put behind every sentence. It was a learning experience. And it is a collection of such experiences that I'm picking up everyday here on the job.

From pitching to billing

2007-07-23T10:36:00.000-07:00

In a multi-restaurant pitch, Arcopol Chaudhuri has awarded the culinary duties of his stomach to Welcome Dabba. The account size is estimated to be small but filling enough for the already malnourished and underweight skinny Bong.

Other contenders in the pitch were Rasoi the people's favourite, Laxmi Chhaya (didn't it collapse, a few days back?), Cafe New Link and Cafe Safar. According to highly placed sources, Welcome's name took the cake. Rasoi was a tough competitor but misplacements in the order and a dumb albeit cute looking Nepali chhokra made a nuisance of the orders.

Also, sources near the reception desk say, that Rasoi was obsessed with Aloo Jeera and Chana masala as main culinary items on a platter every damn day of the week. The author of this post, has found out from reliable sources that the name Aloo Jeera has been derived from the international news channel Al- Jaljeera. The channel repeatedly shows a funny looking man with a long and a funny name (what was it..Oh-mama or something) making lewd gestures. His staple diet was Aloo Jeera.

Muggle news
Indiantelevision.com recently announced Hogwarts night within its premises. Nominations have been coming in from all quarters about who should be donning whose cap from the famous Harry Potter series. Some of the interesting characters we could place are:

1.Anil Wanwari as Albus Dumbledore. The pony works. A flick of the wand, hair on a strand... do you understand?
2.Devyani as Professor McGonagall. She doesn't meos, nor does she have the bun. But she fits into her shoes easily. Rats, beware!
3. Thomas Abraham as Lord Voldemort. This one got the maximum votes. That devilish chuckle and stature. Harry peed in his pants during the interview itself.
4. Anand Gurnani as Hagrid. He's friendly and very approachable. Isn't he, guys? He gets the spells right most of the times.

More nominations coming in. Watch this space.
A muggle is peeking into my computer right now.
And yes, Cho Chang's calling me.

Passing the baton

2007-07-02T06:24:00.000-07:00

It was dinnertime. I was home. Dad was seated next to me, sunk in his seat servicing his morsels religiously as usual. He was quiet. I was indulged in separating the fish from the bones on my plate.

Mom was standing next to me, looking over the two of us. She's always quiet these days, ever since I've been living away from them as a paying guest, close to my office. That's about two hours away from home.

Dad and me don't talk much during dinner. I'm not the talkative types and although he is, over a period of time, he's realized that I'm not the best audience for him. He's a thorough intellectual, well-read and very knowledgeable. He's 58, a month away from retirement. And he's worried. After 38 years of service, he would no longer be a contributor to the family's income. Mom had told me this over lunch. Dad's been mum about it. He's serving a notice period at work already. In 30 days, it'll all be over.

Maybe he's wondering what life's got for him, after this. He's passionate about script-writing and theatre, especially Bengali theatre. I'd like to believe that he'll follow his passions wholeheartedly once he gets done with work. Presently he's a mechanical engineer. He still wants to work, it seems.

Although we weren't talking over our meal, I could feel a deep message emanating from him. I could feel his eyes on me. I didn't make eye contact and it seemed he had finished eating. But I could feel eyes on me. Both mom and dad. Its not everyday that they get to see their son eating in front of them and so they were making the best of it. Or so it seemed. It lasted for about 3 minutes.

Within those three minutes, I felt a world turning around. A father hanging up his boots with caution. A wife acknowledging his effort. A mother hopeful over her son's future. And a father emotionally passing over the baton to his son.

Its been a long journey. 21 years of bringing up a son. A naughty son - who broke car windows amidst games of lagori, who stole tomatoes from the fridge, who hid his mother's shoes so that she wouldn't take him to school. A geeky son - who demanded a new story book every week. A truant son - who ran away from home at the age of 13, only to be found by cops and handed over. A failed son - who found his calling in conceptualizing film stories by bunking classes for the cinema halls.

The tide turned slowly, though. They were proud when I salvaged some pride after I almost topped school in my boards. Bad luck struck, though after the high school boards. I found my calling in a new course they had no clue about. Three nervous years passed, wherein the son was indulging in activities they generally were not informed about.

But I knew the future looked bright, atleast on the career front. I made new friends, lost many on the way. Mom and dad have been protective, but not interfering. Always cautious and full of advise. "Don't repeat the mistakes which I did," said Dad.

I did have some issues though - I wasn't given pocket money and I had to constantly ask for it. I was not allowed for trips and participation in inter-school sports. But if its the end which defines the means, then I'd say, they were right. They always are. They had a sense of achievement when I graduated with distinction, topping my college in the journalism. Today, an eventful upbringing process has reached a level of maturity today. When I look at them, it shows in their eyes. I want to thank them and congratulate them.

They always say, "When you'll become a parent, you'll know how difficult it is."
Its so goddamn true. I'm 21 today, working for a news-portal and at a very delicate stage of my career. This is the period which will define the course of my future growth and destiny.

And this is the period, where I'll become more responsible than I ever was. Its because the baton has been handed over.

Black Eyed Peace

2007-07-01T07:56:00.000-07:00

The other day, a crow from the neighbouring apartment told me that Mumbai is all-set to get a make-over. I brushed aside his supposed tip-off. He thinks I am a journalist - so he is free to give me khabar. I was getting myself ready for work and he thought a tip-off might as well do me some good.

"That's old news," I replied, but Black Current was insistent.
"It's true. Ekdum pakki khabar hai," he asserted. I thought otherwise. Mumbai's make-over is stale bread and the BMC has been taking a refresher course in promising same old apples every monsoon. No wonder they dont't grow here.

Seeing me ignoring him, Black Current revealed, "The crows are taking over control to ensure that their promises don't fall flat."

"How is that?" I asked, unperturbed by his conviction of getting his Black Army together.

"Havnt't you heard of the next level of the RED FM campaign?" he asked.

"You're talking about the Bajaate Raho thingy?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed, flapping his wings in excitement. "We've been inducted for the execution of the campaign. Bajaate Raho now becomes Jhooth Boleh Kawwa Kaate to take care of the politicians," he whispered, emanating a devilish kaaaw at the same time.

"Oh, really? And how are you going to take care of them?"

Black Current, confident as ever and lifting a feather up near his collar said, "Everytime a politician makes a false promise, the Black Army will swoop down and make his head resemble the surface of the moon!"

"You mean," I asked, "you're going poke him with your beak?"

"Of course!!" he laughed like the devil. An entire fleet of crows did the same from the neighbouring trees. (I could hear my neighbour Divya shriek from the nearby apartment, startled by the noise.)

I shivered in fright as Blackie sharpened his beak on the window grill. "Yes!! We're going to claw him, poke him with our beaks and pluck the hair out their politicians nostrils. We're going to mow them down!" At this Blackie invoked yet another round of shrill laughter. "Aren't you going to write about the campaign?"

I considered his idea for a moment. If there was any truth to it, it would be definitely worth writing about. Black Currant's proposition looked impossible to achieve, but he was a good informer too. But how would he mobilise all his crows into an army? And how would RED FM get all the crows together for the campaign? Who would train them? Such questions lingered in my mind. Still, the experience seemed interesting. Atleast the fear of crows could initiate the politicians to action. Tehelka's campaign also used the similar tagline - Jhooth Boleh Kawaa Kaate, so this was bound to be elaborate to write about. Moved by my own vision of the story and the innovation of using wildlife for a radio station campaign, I told Black Current that I would write about it.

"You sure you going to write about it? Don't make a fake promise to me. I'll pluck the eyeballs out of you!" Blackie threatened. I considered his threat and confidently told him that I would convince my editor and write about it. Blackie also squeezed in the fact this was an exclusive and I'd get a byline for it, as well. My editor Godson Adam, in desperate search of a lead story believed my story and put it up as a lead story. Rival agencies, newspapers thought the news was hogwash. RED FM officials, while thoroughly impressed with the negative coverage basked in the glory of some unprecedented publicity. PTI quoted Maneka Gandhi saying, "Man and animal must work hand-in-hand in a similar manner. I'm really happy with the initiative. I congratulate RED FM and I wish Black Current and his army all the best. I wouldn't be surprised if crows contest elections from now on. Atleast they'll do well than these human parrots."

Three days later, the Black Army tasted blood at the CM's speech at Azad Maidan grounds, where he had called a public meeting to explain how he was trying hard to get funds from the Centre for implementing BRIMSTOWAD - the rainwater drainage project. Blackie knew he was making a false promise. He went for his kill.

A TOI headline read the next day -

Crows attack CM; try to pluck his balls but find none

Since then, Black Current has been scouting the skies with his army. The BMC has been trying hard to call truce between the black army and has also roped in a reputed production house to make an animation film on crows. Sources in the Black Army say the film will be titled, 'Black Eyed Peace' and will be the story of how an army of crows swooped down on erring politicians and created a city of truth and justice.

300: All gore

2007-05-02T03:09:00.000-07:00

Yet another adaptation from Greek mythology post Troy and Alexander, in the recent past stormed the theatres recently. After watching 300, while the curiosity about the famous Spartan defense was satisfied to a large extent, the film also turned out to be imminently forgettable. Based on Frank Miller’s graphic novel of the same name, 300 is exemplary of style over substance.

Regular moviegoers would foul mouth such claims and today, as it stands, the movie has almost acquired cult status amongst the Playstation yielding audiences. That, although being highly reflective of their indifferent concern to substantial elements in cinema, is also indicative of the sheer power of visuals effects on show, throughout the film.

Directed by Zack Snyder, 300 sticks true in every frame to Miller’s text. In retrospect, the film’s storyboard is identical to the novel, which is the biggest novelty that is on offer. The myth goes like this - King of Spartan, Leonidas (Gerard Butler) who gathers 300 of his best soldiers to fight the Persian army. Wisely he selects only those who have male children, so that their family name can continue even after their death.

Epic in proportion, daunting in proposition, the Spartans march across till Thermopylae, referred to as ‘the hot gates’ where they are try to defend themselves from being under the superior command of the Persian King Xerxes. The Spartans are tough and they refuse to budge.

What’s more – they chop and chuck every form of attack on the way with incredible valour and spirit. It is here, that 300 begins a treat for the eyes. The raw energy and sheer grace in the choreography of the fight sequences is remarkable. In terms of visual effects, 300 undoubtedly becomes a landmark film. The ripples felt in the rhealm of SFX are similar to those created by the Matrix series during its time. However, the big positive for the action sequences and imaging is the detail and believable nature of every frame. The special effects will undoubtedly be the USP for new audiences to drool over the film.

The screenplay manages to keep the tension and energy palpable throughout. The humour is tongue-in-cheek, but its far and in-between. Since the storyline is wafer-thin and the narration proceeds in a linear fashion without any major hiccups, a sense of predictability creeps in after a point of time. Also, the language used throughout the film is too modern for its time with words like ‘stupid’, ‘Idiotic’ being used generously in the dialogues. Did Greeks ever speak like that? Of course, they did not speak English either, but considering it’s a period drama, a sense of ethos and formal touch should have been a must in the dialogue.

The reason why 300 turns out as forgettable and shallow is majorly because of the thin-storyline and average performances. None of them, goes beyond average, except for Butler who’s energy is symbolic of the film.

300 is a treat while it lasts. In today’s age, where audiences belonging to stressed lifestyles, this might just work for the film. But a great film is a memorable one, which unfortunately 300 does not qualify for.

TYBMM Journo students admitted in hospital after severe memory loss

2007-04-02T06:58:00.000-07:00

22 mass media students from V.E.S college, Chembur reportedly diagnosed with short-term memory loss were admitted to The Smoking Taj hospital yesterday evening. The students, about to appear for their final year University exams next week, were in for a shock when they received their notes and did not remember being taught anything.

On being informed about the incident, when this correspondent called up the Prinicipal of the college, Jedi (not the Star Wars one, stupid!) she said, "The students belong to the Bachelor of Mass Media (BMM) course. It is highly unfortunate something like this happened." As an afterthought, she added, "Although I hardly see them in college, I had high expectations from them."

When asked what could have caused all of them to show this syndrome all of a sudden, she replied, "I'm yet to figure out. We're investigating the issue. Our first priority is to make sure the students recover as soon as possible."

Interestingly, BlogTheTalk has learnt that all the students are journalism students. Although college officials, including the BMM co-ordinator are tighlipped about the issue, sources said that the students complained of severe dimaag ko shot after one of the students, Arcopol Chaudhuri cracked a joke. The agony of the joke transformed into fever and soon, all the students were found unconscious on the classroom benches.

A peon, Ajay, pleading anonymity, said he was involved in a strip-tease with the class. He said, "Aksharshya, tyanchya class madhye professor nahi yaychya. Notes nahin milale, mhanoon, mula muli chidle, bhadakle and tyanchya payat gole sutle." (Blimey hell! No professor would visit their class for lectures. They did not get notes for exams. All girls and boys freaked out and their feet developed balls!)

At The Smoking Taj hospital, the students were found chanting, as if in a trance. While the doctors were busy administering saline and injections, this correspondent managed to get a few responses from some students. First up, the student who cracked the joke...
BlogTheTalk: Is it true Mr. Arcopol Chaudhuri, that this semester, you did not get enough notes and professors hardly came for their lectures?
Arcopol: I don't know. I was absent. Hey buddy.. can I tell you a joke?
BlogTheTalk: Fuck off!
Some more responses..
Bhushan: God, I don't remember a thing! All I remember is those phone calls...horrible phone calls...
BTT: What did the caller say?
Bhushan: "Bhushan... I wont be coming for the lecture today. Please inform the class!"
BTT: Which subject was this? What do you know about it?
Bhushan: Ohh gawwwd.... don't ask me. News Media Management. All I know is that Ayaz Memon loves to make you cry... (gets into Enrique mode..starts singing) ..Girish, sit properly .. Girish, why are you laughing?

Another student, Shailaja Sharma was tied to the bed, banging her head and looking heavenwards and saying, "Kya Mummy???" Suchithra Pillai, a petite figure relaxed calmly in the corner bed. She said, "I don't know what was taught. I came late for the lecture. The bus tyre got punctured."

Manali Shah, another student was heard crying in the distance over the phone, "Wazzaa...wazzaa..wazzaa.. Baba.. meri jholi notes se bhar do baba...!"

But almost every student complained about a tall thin man, sitting on top of a newspaper sheet in sagely fashion and nodding blankly across the room. His smile, they said, is the heartbreak of millions and his lectures are torture of billions.

Some more responses...

BlogTheTalk: Preeti, was full justice done to the portion of Radio?
Preeti: Shut the fuck up, OK?! That's nonsense, OK?! Get lost, OK?!
BTT: Arcopol Chaudhuri, could you tell us...?
Arcopol: I don't know, I was absent.
Prateek: Aaii shappath!!
Ashwini: Sir is scared of Sneha Shah.
BTT: Huh???
Ashwini: Yes. (Getting up, standing erect.) Sir feels Sneha knows more about the topic. So he's scared of opening his mouth in front of her.
BTT: Who is Sneha?
Sneha: (looks around wildly) Haan..Ashwini.. kay tari kaay? Nothing like that. Newspaper sheet pe baithte hain. Newspaper bolta hai, "Oh shit! Oh shit!" Toh phir, saara gyaan pichhwade se hi se nikal jaata hai.
BTT: Who is this professor?
Arcopol: I don't know, I was absent.
Prateek: Aaii shappath!!
Ayan Dutta: I can tell you. I will tell you who the professor. But you will have to give something in return. What say..lets make a deal... you give me a cute cat to gift to my girlfriend..
Anushka: (wide eyed) I will tell you.

BTT was finally told about the source by the students. Enquiries are being made into the professor's educational qualifications. It is learnt that he completed his PG Diploma from Bombay College of Journalism. His knowledge of Internet is highly confined to Yahoomail and his command over Radio is only confined to FM Rainbow. Excerpts from an interview with the professor...

BTT: My sources tell me that you are not qualified to teach the subject.
Professor: Ohhh... (looks around blankly...dissolves into a smile)
BTT: Is it true?
Professor: (continues to look around blankly...keeps smiling)
BTT: Are you dumb or what?
Professor: I choose not to answer your QUESTAN.
BTT: You can't do this.
Professor: Remember, I still have your PROZECT with me. I can flunk you.
BTT: Suit yourself. But tell me, what all did you learn about Radio and Internet when you did that PG Diploma Course?
Professor: I don't know. I was absent.

Global warning, courtesy Al Gore

2007-03-30T11:12:00.000-07:00

Firstly, special thanks to my revered professor P.K.Ravindranath who agreed to lend me an original DVD of Al Gore's Academy Award winning documentary, An Inconvenient Truth.

Undoubtedly, the film came to me at an opportune moment. The mercury is rising across the city and the heat wave is unprecedented, atleast in the month of March. Mumbai clocked 41 degree C at Powai, yesterday and even at 8pm, when one expected the temperature to dip a bit, the thermometers clocked 38 degree C. The usual reaction is, "If it's so hot in March, imagine how extreme the summer is going to be in April and May!" The state's inability to deal with power-shortage has exacerbated the situation further, with large parts of Maharashtra, experiencing black-outs for over 10-12 hours. Its a cruel summer, indeed.

Unfortunately, this is only the beginning of what could turn into an annual phenomenon. Hard summers are lined up ahead, every year. If statistics quoted in An Inconvenient Truth are anything to go by, the world is only going to get warmer. The hottest years in the last century are all in the past one decade, with the mercury peaking highest in 2005. The massive heat wave in the same year claimed over 30,000 lives in Europe alone. British environmental journals claim that 'nature's been acting crazy.' And with good reason. Global warming has caused alarming rise in CO2 levels across the world.

Al Gore's film is a fitting rejoinder on the environmental crisis that lurks ahead. According to the film:
"Humanity is sitting on a time bomb. If the vast majority of the world's scientists are right, we have just ten years to avert a major catastrophe that could send our entire planet into a tail-spin of epic destruction involving extreme weather, floods, droughts, epidemics and killer heat waves beyond anything we have ever experienced."

Gore's persuasive argument is convincing enough, albeit at times, scary. And rightfully so. A majority of countries across the world have treated global warming as more of a political issue. International treaties have been signed and nations have decided to come together and pledged to fight global warming. But the film's true merit lies in the fact, that it treats it as a moral issue that could alter the course of global civilization.

He hits the right notes when he presses for our concern to avert global warming keeping our future generations in mind. "50 years down the line, if nature's turmoil does not come to an end, our children would shudder to believe, 'What were our parents thinking?'"

David Guggenheim carefully intersperses the screenplay with Gore's own life story - from proud father who's world changed with his son meeting an accident, to a son who saw the family business of cultivating tobacco come to a stop after his sister fell prey to cancer. ("That's one way you don't want to see yourself die.") The strategy works for the film - firstly it does a lot to break the monotony of being stunned in the face by terrifying facts and figures. Secondly, it makes the narrative more autobiographical. It gives a deeper reason for the viewer to espouse his cause since Gore's story offers a human perspective. It re-affirms him as a messaih of the campaign to save the world for inevitable disaster.

The screenplay offers much fodder to make a dig at the political administration of the US, where Gore was brushed off "as a crazy lunatic offering to play with global warming as an emotional issue." The digs are well-placed and he also cites the case of a clandestine document acquisition, wherein a Bush aide was asked to alter the climate report to be presented in the Senate. Gore professes the following reason for it:
"It is difficult to make a man understand something, when his salary depends on his not understanding it." The repartee pays off, sending the studio audience into splits. Having said that, it is worthwhile to mention that the film is not the run-of-the-mill sound-byte hunting documentary. Its a studio set-up with a huge LCD plasma screen forming the backdrop. Gore switches across several platforms in the setup to demonstrate statistics, images and predictions, with fervent passion and concern. He takes centrestage throughout. The comfort and confidence with which he deals with the topic is astounding. Since the globe has really not warmed up to the isue yet, he gives enough reason for us to believe him, when he says:
"It is extremely frustrating for me. I've given this slide show about 1000 times. Or rather, atleast 1000 times. I keep hoping that as I proceed from person-to-person, maybe it will create a difference enough for people to reach out for the cause. And every time, I try to focus on what is it that I can do, to make people reach closer to the issue, by making it simpler."

The Inconvenient Truth ends on an optimistic note, providing alternatives to curb the distress. Since it's a global issue, Gore cites historical examples to prove his point wherein Nelson Mandela's victory, the fall of communism and fascism, the invention of vaccines were remarkable global events. He graciously accepts that the US is the highest contributor to global warming and expresses political hope and faith in the democracy so that the issue will be dealt with alacrity:
"It's not been done before, because of the lack of political will in this country. But you know what? In the US, political will is a renewable resource and we're going to make it."

As the movie ends, there are certain facts presented which stay with you for long time. Long enough to make you think it over. I'll list some of them below:

1. The Arctic Ocean could be ice-free by summer 2050.

2. Global sea levels could rise by more than 20 feet with the loss of shelf ice in Greenland and Antarctica, devastating coastal areas worldwide.

3. Deaths from global warming will double in just 25 years -- to 300,000 people a year.

4. Heat waves will be more frequent and more intense.

5. More than a million species worldwide could be driven to extinction by 2050.

CONCLUSION: An Inconvenient Truth is a land-mark film made on a global issue of a different kind. The scope is enormous and the purpose is firm. Carbon emissions have to be reduce at any cost if the future of mankind wants to survive. Perhaps the current generation will not live to see the catastrophic effects of global warming. But the film rightfully instills fear in the name of our future generations, if that is the only alternative, to get people moving into action. That, I believe, is a convenient truth to solving the issue.

Shades of MAMI 2007

2007-03-19T06:39:00.000-07:00

After a disastrous IFFI (International Film Festival of Goa 2006), I’d almost developed this allergy towards film festivals. Then in January, there was the much hyped Frames Film Festival, which is supposed to be the Cannes for BMM film-makers. Frames was utterly disappointing and its evaluation standards are falling every year. There was talk amongst fellow BMM-students from several colleges that Frames is meant to represent majorly the film-making expertise of SIES students first, then talent from other colleges. Either ways, one would expect the turnout to increase. However, that was not so.

Debutante at MAMI

Let me say it straight - Imax Adlabs rocked as a venue for MAMI. It boasted of the requisite hi-tech infrastructure and co-operative staff. Although the location - Bhakti Park, Wadala - is way off the mark from the main city (and many did rant about it), I think it does enough to filter the real film lovers from those who merely come over to warm their seats. A passionate lover of films would definitely go the extra mile to enjoy the best in global cinema, for seven days atleast!

OPENING FILM

Curse of the Golden Flower
Hong Kong-China
Colour / 35 mm / 111 mins / 2006

Curse Of The Golden Flower from China was a fitting entry as an opening film. Indians like to start off events in all possible grandiose and this oriental magnum opus was breathtaking in its opulent sets and costumes (Nominated for Best Achievement in Costume Design, Academy Awards, 2007). As has been the case with all Chinese period dramas, COFTGF had a good story to bank on. The action sequences were brilliantly choreographed and although the concluding action sequences seemed to go on forever, nevertheless, the ending more than made up for it.

*The discipline showcased in the Tiang dynasty of the 10^th century is stunning. Right from frame one, the perfect harmony and order in which the supporting cast and extras have been choreographed is a revelation. I would not be surprised if this very discipline gives China a shot in the arm for an emerging global destination for foreign investment. Such orderliness and worship to work and daily life, coupled with the richness of culture is attractive for investors looking east for greener pastures.
Rating: * * * *

OTHER FILMS

Having to choose between films is the regret of every delegate attending any film-festival. Given an option, we’d like to watch all of them. Amongst the films I was able to catch up, here are some of the notable ones.

Irina Palm
Belgium-Germany-Luxembourg-UK-France
Colour / 103 mins / 2006

Sam Gabarski’s Irina Palm is a neat effort. A simple story of a professional handjob artist, her ailing grandson for whose medical surgery she must earn money, the film runs on a linear plane with some hilarious comic moments. The humour is situational and the story presents a fascinating glimpse of the life of Irina Palm, it never goes over the top. The director has deftly handled the scenes at the sex parlour, where Irina works. The most memorable scene from the film is where Irina’s friends ask her about her job profile. The guffaws from the audience had enough power to light up the auditorium.

Rating: * * * ½

Merry Christmas (Joyeus Noel)
France
Colour / 35 mm / 110 mins / 2005

If you’re wondering what a great film looks like, here’s one. Joyeus Noel presents the story of the unthinkable. When war breaks out in 1914, it puts millions of men in its wake. But its Christmas too. Unbelievably, its time for some celebration in the warring camps. Rifles are left at the bottom of the trenches and the armies march, candle in hand, to see those opposite, shake their hands, exchange a cigarette and piece of chocolate and wish them “Merry Christmas”. The strongest point of the film is the fact that it shows the power of a festival to bring warring parties together in a spirit of celebration. The fact, that this celebration leads the way in creating truce and furthermore strong bongs between men belonging to different countries, is heartwarming. Based on a true story, the film boasts of some great music, all of which lingers on when the credits scroll up, in the end. A must watch!

Rating: * * * * *

The Wind That Shakes the Barley
Germany-Italy-Spain-France-Ireland-UK
English-Gaelic / Colour / 127 mins / 2006

Winner of Golden Palm at Cannes Film Festival (2006), Ken Loach’s masterpiece boasts of powerful direction and performances. Set in Ireland in 1920, it’s the story of the two brother Damien and Teddy, part of a guerilla squad fighting for the independence of their motherland. However, when truce is signed through a peace treaty regarded as unfair by a part of the population, war resumes putting Irishmen against Irishmen, brothers against brothers.

Rating: * * * *

The Land (La Terra)
Italy
Colour / 112 mins / 2006

Sergio Rubini’s crime drama is sprinkled with black humour and an infectious set-up of brothers who are out to reclaim a piece of family property. The setting is very adaptable to Bollywood standards and is very watchable. I particularly liked the concluding shot where the brothers are shown atop the rooftops of three houses, having fun throwing pebbles at each other. Brilliant.

Rating: * * *

The Good Shepherd
USA
Colour / 167 mins / 2006

Directed by Robert De Niro, this film created quite a murmur at the Berlin Film Festival, what with a top-knotch star-cast of Matt Damon, Angelina Jolie, Alec Baldwin and De Niro himself. It tells the story of the founding of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and a man who is prepared to sacrifice anything and everything to protect his country. The story revolves around a quagmire of world, where deception is a part of life. Matt Damon in the lead role is terrific in his poise. The film gets monotonous after a while and while being scholarly shot, it offers little in the form of entertainment. Too scholarly and not up-to-the hype that surrounded the film.

Rating: * * *

Red Carpet (Tapete Vermelho)
Brazil
Colour / 35 mm / 100 mins / 2005

This film is a heartwarming comedy with a deep social message. Quinzinho, a Brazilian country peasant has a promise to keep: to take his 10-year old son to watch a Brazilian Mazzaropi movie just like his father once did when he was a boy. So if he goes with him, his wife and their donkey on a journey through towns and cities to find a movie theatre still playing pictures he so fondly cherishes. But Quinzinho soon finds soon finds out that times have changed. The actors successfully get into the skin of their characters with their rustic look and accents. Although the film makes a slow start, it conveys a strong message about an era gone by, which ceases to exist on celluloid today.

Rating: * * * ½

The Road (Fang Ziang Zhi Lu)
China
35 mm / 114 mins / 2005

A touching life story of ticket controller Li on the rural bus line. And such is her whole life, like a bus ride with ups and downs. Set in the the prudish Chinese Society of the 70s during the Maoist revolution, the cinematography of the film is simply breathtaking. The deft handling of Li’s relationship with the much older bus driver Master Cui (note the bedroom sequences, sensitively shot) are one of the film’s strong points. Worth a watch, in case you’re in for sentimental touching cinema.

Rating: * * * *

The Child (L’ enfant)
France
Colour / 107 mins / 2005

I’d seen this one a couple of years back at the Pune International Film Festival, where it won the Best Film. This Palm D’Or winner at Cannes is one of the best French films in years. It tracks the growth of Bruno, the father of a child from childhood to manhood after being carefree and living only for the present. A petty thief, Bruno lives off his wife Sonia’s benefits. Always scheming and always strapped for cash, he decides one day to sell the baby on the black market. It’s the sensitive portrayal of the improvisation of Bruno’s character, all for his child, that makes this film a compelling watch.

Rating: * * * ½

Aviva My Love (Aviva Ahuvati)
Israel
Colour / DVD / 107 mins / Hebrew / 2005

Aviva, a hard working hotel cook in the small north eastern town of Tiberias, is on the brink of finally fulfilling her lifelong dream of being a novelist, thanks to her remarkable writing abilities. Due to her sister Anita, she gets introduced to Oded, an accomplished novelist. Immediately recognising her talent, Oded takes her under his wing. But the journey to greatness affects her life and lives of her family. Whats more, when Aviva discovers that Oded has other plans for her work, her world collapses. The contemporary urban setting makes this film extremely likeable. The central character of Aviva wants to be a successful and this trait is identifiable, therefore, the screenplay manages to make the emotions very practical, since most of us want to be achievers and successful in life. The film is well-packaged with its dose of humour and melancholy. A must watch.

Rating: * * * *

The Collector (Komornik)
Poland
Colour / 35 mm / 93 mins / 2005

Directed by Polish director Feliks Falk, Komornik boasts of a power-packed performance by Andrzej Chyra. The plot covers 48 hours and shows the rise and fall of Lucek Bohme, who in the name of law, ruthlessly seizes property of individuals and institutions for their debts. A series of incidents soon shock him into an attempt to right the wrongs he has done. However, being far too self-confident, he doesn't realize that his corrupt colleagues and superiors have set him up and falls into a trap. Although the screenplay is breezy and breaks into a rock-music-sorta -jumping-jack-around the city, the film does not give enough time in the transition of the lead character from ruthless collector to generous nobleman. It is however, the no-nonsense performance by Chyra, that this film still becomes watchable.

Rating: * * *

Just Sex and Nothing Else
Hungary Colour / 90 mins / DVD / 2005

This Hungarian film is a humorous romantic comedy about 33-year Dora, a beautiful actress who, after discovering that her fiance already has a wife and a child, decides to advertise for a HIV negative partner strictly for a night of sex, so she can have a child. Although the DVD print was not very clear - the subtitles were unclear most of the times, merging with the background colours - the movie was entertaining to say the least. Film festival afficionados might cry hoarse, since the film was more of a commercial entertainer, rather than the 'film-festival' circuit type of films. Nevertheless, the comedy gave an insight into a talented world of Hungarian cinema.

Rating: * * * 1/2

Volver
Spain Colour / 121 mins / 2006
One of the most awaited films at MAMI, Pedro Almodovar's Volver is almost fable-like. Actress Penelope Cruz was nominated for Academy Awards 2007 for Best Actress in her role of Raimunda and rightfully so. With a near-perfect screenplay, the film puts up the hilarious situation when her mother, who supposedly died in a fire with her husband comes back from the dead. Watch out for the title track, where Cruz really elevates her performance to brilliance and deserves a noteworthy mention. The rest of the cast come up with notable performances too. A must watch.

Rating: * * * *

The Near East (Ei Proximo Oriente)
Spain
Colour / 95 mins / 35 mm / 2006

Director Fernando Colomo must be watching a lot of Bollywood cinema to come up with a masala flick like this one. A thorough enterainer, in true Bollywood style, The Near East tickles at the right places. While certain sequences, like the revamp of the restaurant are reminiscent of Nikhil Advani's Kal Ho Na Ho, the plot set in the Bangladeshi immigrant community in Spain, is well sketched out. Good music, well-executed comic sequences and witty-lines to bring down the house, this film was a popular choice at the festival.

Rating: * * * 1/2

The Barbarian Invasions
Canada
Colour / 99 mins / 2003

This Oscar winner is a touching story of an estranged son who comes home and eases the last days of his father dying of cancer. While the father is a disillusioned academic, he finds it difficult to accept the reality of his death. The son creates an oasis of comfort in the crowded public hospital by getting together his father's ex-wife, ex-mistress and old friends. A must see.

Rating: * * * * *

Turev (Derivative)
Turkey
Colour / 35 mm / 91 mins / 2005

Winner of the Best Film and Best Woman actress at the 2006 International Chennai Film Festival, Turev is a fantastic rendition of a litmus test for love gone wrong. The film looks almost like a home video - this speaks volumes of the performances and direction - and the screenplay jumps forth between actual happenings on screen and confessions by the characters about their lives. Sureyya wants to confirm whether her lover Nazim is really loyal to her or not. Hence, she asks her best friend Burcu to try and seduce him several times. By the time the film arrives at its conclusion, the tables turn, altering the course of the lives of the three lead protagonists. Paisa vasool!

Rating: * * * *

The Bong Connection
Bengali-English / Colour / 35 mm / 138 mins / 2006

Shot in Kolkata and Houston, the film is a satire around the Bengali community living in these polarised cities. Youngters might be able to identify with the film, as I did, since it reflects the catch-22 situation of the Bengali mindset - one which wants to dwell in the old intellectual past and the other which wants to progress in the globalized world. The screenplay lends itself delicately on these issues with a dig at Bengalis. For once, we end up laughing at ourselves. A very contemporary Bengali film.

Rating: * * *

Vanaja
Telegu / Colour / 35 mm / 111 mins / 2006

Even after winning the Best First Feature Award at the 57th Berlin International Film Festival, director Rajnesh Domalpalli has not been able to find a producer for this masterpiece. Using local talent, none of whom are professional actors comes this poignant tale of a spirited daughter of a low-caste, drink-addicted fisherman. Vanaja will be a great dancer, predicts a soothsayer. Sexual abuse at puberty makes Vanaja seek revenge. The film remains an authentic piece of work since it skilfully portrays the politico-socio implications of sexual abuse, at the same time dwelling highly on semiotics.

Rating: * * * *

Outsourced
USA
English / Colour / 35 mm / 98 mins / 2006

An audience favourite at the festival, the film is a romantic comedy of 32-year old Todd, manager of call centre in Seattle, who is summarily despatched to India to train his own replacement. He expects the worst from this unknown country and the chaos of Mumbai assaults his senses. But slowly, with time, as he gets to know his co-workers, he finds them disarming and thoroughly likeable. He slowly gives up resistance to this new culture and learns a lot about India, to develop an emotional bond with the country. This bonding is almost Swades-like. Peppy to the core and sprinkled with humour throughout, this is one film with a heart. Beautifully shot with delightful performances, especially from Josh Hamilton, Asif Basra and Ayesha Dharker, this film deserves a two-thumbs up!

Rating: * * * *

The Namesake
India USA
English, Bengali, Hindi / Colour / 112 mins / 2006

Based on Jhumpa Lahiri's acclaimed novel by the same name, this film is directed by Mira Nair. It tells the story about the Gangulis: Ashoke and Ashima and their son, who is named Gogol, after the author Nikolai Gogol. Gogol is caught in a different conflict between his Bengali roots to which his parents cling and his American birthright of forging his own identity. The film boasts of brilliant performances by every actor and authentically portrays the confusion of migrant communities in adapting and identifying with a new culture. The film remains faithful to the novel choosing the best parts and the film is satisfactory to say the least. However, a special mention about the lead actors - Tabu, Irfan Khan and Kal Penn - whose performances really elevate the film from being a mere adaptation, to a film with a lot of soul and an identity. Highly recommended.

Rating: * * * 1/2

POST SCRIPT:
A delightful week of some of the best films in world cinema finally ended with the closing film, The Namesake. I'm looking forward to MAMI next year already. Over 2000 delegates registered this year for the festival and the numbers are expected to rise. Imax Adlabs still remains a favoured venue, but I'm hopeful that the management will introduce special transportation for delegates everyday, from the next year.

The line-up of films was good. But the Indian segment was disappointing. They still need to be well-marketed in order to capture more delegate attention. Buying and selling of films remains a major problem at Indian film festivals. The organisers must get aggressive about this.

Guru - Uncomfortably recommended

2007-01-31T10:17:00.000-08:00

It could well have been India's answer to The Aviator starring Leonardo Di Caprio. But Howard Hughes was a man who was a different cloud. Gurukant Desai is at a different latitude.

Mani Ratnam's Guru is a landmark film for India. Remarkably shot, it has taken Indian cinema to a new level on a qualitative basis. But there's reason enough to realise why a film of this calibre and conclusion has met with such success.

It is modern India's unflinching attitude to bask in the the underworld of grey shades. Shades similar to Gurubhai's shady deals, all of which came under suspicion. The film does celebrate the mercantile spirit and perhaps the first film to do so. The resemblances to the founder of Reliance Industries, Dhirubhai Ambani, are well-disguised but just not good enough - that figdety laugh, the hair styling and the Gujarati hangover. All of this accompanied with similar policies adopted the Ambani himself, like having thousands of shareholders.

If there's one reason why Guru becomes a fascinating film to watch, it is particularly for the resemblances to Ambani's real life story. It is a rags-toriches story of course, but the premise is always money. Notably so, you realise why Guru loves to hear the jingle of coins while he's returning from Turkey after serving as a petrol pump attendant(Ambani also went abroad and started with a petrol pump.)

It is not Guru's shady deals that came under suspicion. It is rather his phenomenal rise to the top, amidst the private sector and with lakhs of satisfied shareholders, often achieving growth rates of over 300% - a meteoric rise indeed, for a man with such humble beginnings. But with Guru's influence and cunning, no deal is a big deal to catch.

No wonder then, than his well-wisher, the man who brought him into the limelight, in the first place, Manikdas Gupta (ditto Ramnath Goenka), editor of The Independent launched an unforgiving newspaper campaign against him for a period of over 10 years. Shyam Saxena (Madhavan), the investigative journalist bent on exposing Guru's mischievous ways to reach the top.

Is it right to bribe your way to the top, for a larger public good? Is it right to exert influence through contacts for the larger public benefit? Note the larger public benefit involved, hence the trivial nature of the question.

It is exactly this question that makes Guru such an uncomfortable movie. You cannot help but celebrate his rise to the top. It's a story we would love to be a part of, since it concerns the public good and ultimately it shows that India on the path to glory is also an India that likes to get work done through 'confidential documents, envelopes and a box of sweets'.

Most of the time, you're left admiring Abhishek Bachchan's acting skills. It is HIS film, his ticket to fame for the big Best Actor award next year. Aishwarya Rai is amazingly natural. Their chemistry creates magical moments, especially the scene in the bedroom where both hit each other's shoulder.

Rajiv Menon's cinematography skillfuly shifts between sepia tones of Turkey and Bombay and Gujarat of the 1950s. A.R.Rahman's sountrack elevates the film to higher pedestal and grows on you as the film progresses. These are factors that try hard to distract one from the ideological stupor the film imposes in the last 15 minutes. Mani Ratnam has no doubt, come of age through Guru. But the lead character is not someone I'd like to idolise, even though I admire his cunning and influence in achieving so much. Unfortunately, the film never gives any glimpse into the workings on Guru's mind and what circustances led him to be the genius that he is. Gurukant Desai even though a smart-ass, has never been a prodigy.

Guru's success is testimony to the fact that we, the citizens of this country have accepted grey shady deals as a part of our life. And therefore, Guru is a significant film, but by no means a great one.

Bloody diamond

2007-01-31T09:31:00.001-08:00

The contrast is unbelievable. It makes me gasp.

A stone of such beauty, sharpness and elegance. Yet the hardest stone on the planet goes through a hard time as it makes it way across the world from the Sierra Leone to your nearest D'damas outlet. Hold on to your purse-strings, ladies and gentlemen, the diamond you're buying could well be a conflict diamond.

Lets get a few facts straight.

What is a conflict diamond?
Conflict diamonds are diamonds that originate from areas controlled by forces opposed to legitimate and internationally recognized governments. They are used to fund military action in opposition to those governments.

How can a conflict diamond be distinguished from a legitimate diamond?
A well-structured 'Certificate of Origin' regime can be an effective way of ensuring that only legitimate diamonds -- that is, those from government-controlled areas -- reach market. You must insist on this certificate when you buy a diamond.

All's not well in Africa. It never was. And perhaps it never will be. Unless of course, the media takes a greater stand in issues like this.

It is with a sense of desperation that Danny Catcher says in the film, Blood Diamond, "The truth is that God left this place a long time ago." And when Maddy, the journalist looking across a sprawling refugee camp, perhaps the largest in the film, says: "They'll show this report maybe on CNN, between the Sports and the Weather."

Blood Diamond brings into light the wild African side that remains aloof from the media. Yes, we've known Africa is wild for its animals, but this is Sierra Leone - terror struck, thanks to the Revolutionary United Front, which is using the diamond smuggling business to fund their rebellion against the existing government imposed by the Security Council.

And there's a motley of middlemen, mercenaries out there trying to grasp a pie in this diamond business. The text that appears at the beginning of the film is chilling.

"Most of the diamond miners in Sierra Leone have never seen a diamond."

It is here, that Edward Zwick's racy narrative wins as a film, even though it is never pop-corn entertainment. In fact, with all the bloodshed and bodies falling off like a pack-of cards, the pop-corn is a strict no-no. It's an adventure, with a deeper messag, without the sermonising.

A search for a blood diamond and a search by a father for his son. The melange of realistic cinema and edge-of-the seat thrills is what makes Blood Diamond so solid. And the impact, by the end of the film is perhaps responsible for the furore expected at the Oscar awards. Leonardo Di Caprio is of course deservingly nominated for the role Best Actor. But will Hollywood dress up their necks and fingers in the world's most controversial stone?

Keep your fingers crossed. And yes, have a look at that ring finger of yours, because the ring could well have a bloody diamond on it.

Thanks, but Salaam-e-namaste will do

2007-01-31T07:56:00.000-08:00

"Jab miyaan biwi ho raaji
Toh kya karega paaji..."

Lines like these and more. Nikhil Advani's Salaam-e-Ishq faces the same problem that the 6 couples in the film share - LOVE. A stand-alone pav-bhaji sounds tempting to me, but place it in a full course meal of Italian, Chinese, South Indian and Mexican dishes and I'd forget how the pav-bhaji tasted at the end of it.

Mind you, the six stories are not bad on an individual basis. Most often you are carried away by Advani's chilled proceedings. But before you can sink into the emotions of one story, pops open another. And you suddenly lose track of the earlier one. Its like adding new ingredients to the recipe before "onions turn light brown in colour".

Like it happened in the John Abraham-Vidya Balan case. Before we could sink their tragedy into our hearts, you have Sallu miyaan surfacing out of the blue in the Kamini (or was it Kamna?) story with Priyanka Chopra.

The Sohail Khan-Isha Koppikar track surely brings the house down with its comic touch. Unfortunately, this story is given minimum screen time. In fact, during the second half, they almost disappear. Sohail is surprisingly good, but his Aryan image gets the better of him on most occasions. The guy is so serious off-screen that when he does comedy, it seems he is indeed 'acting', unlike other actors who're almost living their roles.

My favourite story was Raju-Stephanie - Govinda. The Virar-da-chhokra is excellent in his true comeback form (Bhagam Bhag was a special appearance, trust me!). This love-story captures the possible infactuation of a cabbie falling for his "madame". Govinda's comic timing is impeccable and so is his chemistry with his lady. The Hindi-English divide makes this story indearing, adding humour along the way.

The Anil Kapoor-Juhi Chawla story is KANK extended. Plus a dash of Shall We Dance sprinkled into it and hmmpph... I'm not impressed. Juhi Chawla, my lady, we'd love to see more of you in the movies though.

Love Actually established a crucial element in its screenplay i.e. Love is a complex emotion. Salaam-e-Ishq misses the point completely. Rather it depends on cliches like commitment phobia, infidelity, accidents... which are done-to-death cliches especially in Bollywood.

I think that's where the film fails to have a uniformity - especially the Salman-Priyanka Chopra story. Charming as much as Salman might be, he does sweep the viewer off his feet once in a while, but the story falls flat. So is the John-Vidya story. Accidents, hospital scenes are formulaic tear-jerkers, but with raw performers like John Abraham on board, emotions go in the backburner. And why not...you have the nation's hottie trying desperately to act. But all he does is pop his mouth open to emote and his tresses come all over his face. Its mushy, but I think the impact doubles with someone who can cry well, onscreen.

Salaam-e-Ishq is not a bad film. A six course meal is usually not bad, unless you want to leave the table mid-way. It still manages to offer entertainment at an excruciating length of 3 hours 35 minutes, a total paisa vasool for that expensive ticket. The humour is evenly laid out, thankfully, although it is unsituational most of the times. The music is very good, especially the title track which is skillfully picturised and edited.

But the movie is definitely a big disappointment. Not that we were expecting a Love Actually, but I remember being totally mushy at the end of that one. With Advani's film, I feel exhausted with a severe headache, mainly because of the tiring climax lasting about 40 minutes, backed by Kailash Kher's chest-beating vocals.

Kal Ho Na Ho also faced a similar problem with its last 40 minutes. It seemed to go on and on, with Sonu Nigam's vocals. But KHNH was minty fresh in its approach, especially the screenplay. Salaam-e-ishq is a different story, though.

"What's the time, again? Ain't the movie supposed to be over yet?"

Man of the year - 2007

2007-01-09T01:01:00.000-08:00

Long time since my last post. Here's a hilarious article from NYT which got me rolling over the floor, giggling. Enjoy!

Get Your Resolutions Here

Bottom of Form

By BOB MORRIS

Published: December 31, 2006

The New York Times

Hey you, Person of the Year. Never mind what Time magazine announced on its year-end cover about the culture's being revolutionized by millions of MySpacers and YouTubers like yourself. The year is over, and tomorrow you'll be nobody again. May as well step aside now. Person of the Year, it's not about you anymore. It's about me.

And in the words of our commander in chief, I'm the decider, and I decide what's best. In a self-serving spin on tradition, here are my New Year's resolutions. For you.

Get off the computer and back into the recliner. Networks and cable television companies are spending millions a year devising entertainment with story structure and character development to keep your attention. They're also devising clever new ways to spin "reality." Show them some respect. Leave the computer and get back to the TV where you belong.

And give up the blogging. All you emo teens, militant 12 steppers, sexual conquistadors and fetishistic foodies: enough with the unsolicited opinions and diaristic diarrhea. Remember that just because something happened to you doesn't mean that it's interesting. There are plenty of self-important professionals like me who are paid to have opinions and rarefied tantrums for the reading public.

It's time for you to go back to buying newspapers and movie tickets.

And please remember to turn off your cellphones and pagers.

If you must telecommunicate, text. Then we won't have to hear it.

And by the way, I don't care if you're Anna Wintour's driver or Harvey Weinstein's assistant, stop trying to get a book deal out of your blog. Assistant lit is as tired as chick lit. And if you're a Frenchwoman who doesn't get fat, we get it, thanks.

Next? Urban mommies of America, enough with the maternal anomie. You have overshared your guilt and conflicted confessions about motherhood's dark side. You're bad. You're resentful. You're partial to black and to having a couple of martinis at play dates. We get it. Next!

Dads, stop pushing your taste in music on the children. We know it's hard for you to accept that you're not a kid anymore or that you never became a rock star. But that doesn't mean you should impose Pink Floyd and Jimi Hendrix on the defenseless.

Note to enthusiastic customers of Fresh Direct, the grocery delivery service sending its trucks all over the overcrowded streets of my Manhattan: Use the supermarket. It's right around the corner and a great convenience of city living. And while you're paying the cashier, keep your eyes off your BlackBerry, unless it's the edible kind.

Novelty ring tones? They're a bore. Keep it simple or put the phone on vibrate. Nobody wants to listen to the " William Tell" Overture or Beyoncé while on the bus.

As for your voice, consider keeping it down in the new year. There is no reason everyone on the train or airplane has to hear your conversation with your spouse.

What else? Give up the bottled water. I know your body is a temple, but we live in one of the few countries where you can drink from the tap. And don't kid yourself about recycling. All those little plastic water bottles are going to be around forever.

Stop all the carbs obsessing, too. It's tedious, and you haven't lost weight anyway.

Now a few brief notes to the bigger fish:

Donald Trump and Rosie O'Donnell, you need a timeout. Mel Gibson, the next time you apologize on television about your indiscretions, I want you to tuck in your shirt. Naomi Campbell, your cellphone privileges are suspended until you learn that phones aren't projectiles and mallets. Eminem , you are not allowed to marry your wife again. You have now divorced her twice. That's enough. And to all the "cause celebs" pushing their enlightened worldviews, which make the rest of us feel guilty, back off. When we have what you have, we'll evolve, too, O.K.?

Finally, everyone: When you go back to the office on Tuesday, disconnect the instant messaging software, resist Googling yourself and stop downloading photographs. It may not be revolutionary, but why not try working in 2007? It's good for the economy.

Person of the Year, this year was all about you.

Next year it's about everyone else.

Starting, of course, with me.

End mein kya hota hai?

2006-12-28T11:52:00.000-08:00

"So, how was it?" I asked, my mom. She'd just been pampered to an exclusive LAN downloaded screening of Vivah on my PC. Courtesy me.

"Something different, you know," she replied, nodding. Usually that's the expression she gives when the movie either confirms to her beliefs and school of thought. "It was good," she added further with the you-should-have-seen-it-too attitude.

"Hmm..so, what happens in the end?" I probe further, getting details out of her.

"You should have seen it!" she quipped. See, I told you. It was coming.

End mein kya hota hai? One of the deepest obsessions film viewers have. What happens in the end? Do they live happily ever after? Do they die? Do they walk into the sunset (without any sunburns) Are they caught by the police? Or on rare occasions... Do they leave room for a Part 2?

We all love listening to stories. Stories about love, victory, heroes, war, adultery, crime... they dissolve into so many genres. Its almost like magic. You enter a dark cinema hall and expect to be told a story on the screen. A story does unfold on most occasions (unlike Dhoom 2, etc) and we're rivetted in our seats.

Till the end.

We're all interested to know, what happens in the end. Or sometimes, we ask ourselves, "What's the point, at the end of it?" Like a senior of my college, who uses the term, "end of the day" in every fourth sentence. It does matter for us to know, the culmination of all efforts which are meant to satisfy a certain 'end'.

However, it pains to know the lack of curiosity of how somebody did it. "Pehle toh gunda tha, chor tha, lekin ab dekho...laakhon mein kama raha hai!"

"Earlier, I was a brat at school, you know! But now..."

"He came to Mumbai with 20 rupees in his pocket. And now see where he is..."

"He used to serve chai before. And now see, he's a laughter champion!"

See? They never tell you HOW they did it. They just tell you the ending. Maybe its because they themselves wouldn't know (the gossip mongrels), how they did it. Maybe they were not curious to know.

Newspapers and magazines, though, sometimes pick up on this curiosity. Journalists are expected to be curious (hello!?) about 'things'. They'll tell you how they did it. It'll take time - they'll tell you every day what Dolly Thakore had for breakfast, what Krsna Mehta is doing today evening, how does Jitesh Kallat manage time effectively, how did Suchitra Pillai manage to hook up with that gora...

They'll tell you... slowly.

Thank God, for magazines, then! A simple extended feature on achievers and how they did it and there you are. You know how they did it, you know how they beat the odds and this precisely could become inspiration for millions of Gajraula ki Madhuris to come try their luck in Bollywood. Their success stories in turn, could inspire a million more.

Nevertheless, it is this very end that everyone's trying to satisfy. The end where life, after being a long, steep, hard climb to the top, suddenly transforms into a plateau. And its at this plateau, you have the mediamen waiting for you. Eager to hear your story. "How did you get here?" "Was it difficult?" "You wanted to be an engineer! You're a super-model now? Why did you take up that engineering seat at all? My nephew who was trying in the same college did not get through!"

But come to think of it, isn't it this very end from where there's a new beginning? We all are persistently try to reach somewhere, achieve a certain status, recognition, fame, glamour...

And in the end it's respect that is all we seek. Kishen Mulchandani may not be interested in putting his nose into your business, but yes, he'll tell this to Pooja Bedi, yelling amidst the Page 3 cacophony: "He's a good hotelier!" All of this, with a certain sense of respect.

Are we trying to work hard to elicit comments from Page 3 people, alone? Nah! We seek respect from the society at large. And they start respecting one fully, only that person has reached that end.

I remember a friend asking me the other day. What kind of ending do you like at the movies - happy, sad, clueless, sequel types... "Kis type ka ending pasand hai tujhe?"

"The sequel one," I reply, primly.

"Why?"

"It leaves room for more. I can come back again. With new hope. Twists and turns to expect."

But most importantly, after I've seen such a film, and anybody asks me, "So, how was it?" I can reply coolly, Mr.A style -

"Game's not over yet!"

A Walk To Remember

2006-12-25T07:54:00.000-08:00

Milky moonlight
The crunch of leaves
Noisy crickets
Not a soul in sight
A howl surrounds
A noise rebounds
I skip a heartbeat
Clutching in fright.

The walk has begun
That will last till dawn
With veins throbbing
To the song on my lips

Armed with a pen
Mightier than a sword
Ecstatic in delight
Poised I am, capturing the chants

Sung by the ants,
Sung by the trees,
Splashes from a puddle
In splendid harmony.

A whisper here, a crackle there
A hiss here and a growl there
The walk has just begun, my fellow
Silence beckons in this sleepy hollow

For the song of the forest
Is a song of charm
As if in subtle prayer
The species disarm

A magic is cast
As Nature hums itself to sleep
Listening to their prayer
Spellbound I remain.

---

Now that, is my second attempt at writing poetry. Deeply inspired from my trip to Lonavla recently.

Six of us. The day has comfortably settled into late evening. Armed with a scribblepad, a pen and a folder, wearing a sweater and a monkey cap, I was the youngest trekking through the dense green forests at Lonavla, a quiet breezy destination on the Western Ghats. The others - my crew members from a television shoot for a travel show, now recently telecast on national television. We're making our way uphill slowly and surely.

The purpose of our climb - to record sounds from nature. Sounds of crickets. Bees. Insects. Snakes (If any. Hope not!)

I'm feeling a terrific sense of adventure. The blood streaming through my veins knows it. These are moments which I've read about in adventure novels, Enid Blyton mysteries, that television series on AXN - Amazon. And now I'm living each and every moment of them.

We're totally bathed in moonlight filtering through the treetops. As we march slowly, finding our way through the dirt track, the cold wild snuggles in through our sweaters. I raise my head like a wolf to the moon and see my warm breath diffuse into the stillness of the air. The recording goes on, slowly and cautiously. And I take copious notes in my scribble pad, in whatever light nature has on offer.

In a few hours, we shall see the sunrise. The breathtaking horizon is still several kilometres away. I feel drowsy occasionally with all the dark figures around. It's been a tiring day of shoot. We've been up since 4am, visiting several caves all day at Karla, Bhaja, Lohagarh, scrambling through highways till the light is right. I'm almost stumbling onto the trees. The crew members have quitened down for the obvious fact that they're looking for natural sounds to record.

And then, came the hiss.

All of us heard it. I almost jumped out of my skin. My first thought was - one of us stepped on it and therefore it hissed. The big question - who was it? On dense bushy paths, sound often gets muffled in a host of various other noises. And our senses often get lost in the transit of fear and logic.

Strangely to confirm our worst fears, we want to hear the hiss once more. Was it really a hiss? I look around to check whether everyone is alright. I check my belongings. All intact.

And then another hiss. I've heard it right, this time. I follow the sound. It's a constant hiss. Strange thing to do for a snake, which has got no business whatsoever in scaring the shit out of us. Our director, a professional wildlife documentary film-maker, knows snake sounds better and claims it's not a snake's hiss. A total of 15 seconds has passed since the first hiss, when we finally chance upon the source of the sound.

Hiss.

A unit member eager to relieve his bladder, back in the bushes. Warm, bodily piss touching the blades of smooth misty-grass. And in the warmth, as it makes contact with the blades of dense grass, comes the frighful but delightful pseudo sound of nature.

Hiss.

Post Script 2006

2006-12-24T08:41:00.000-08:00

A turbulent year of ups and downs is coming to an end. A new year is about to begin. Some unfinished business remains, though. This post is dedicated to all the people who've played a vital role this year in my life. Some heartfelt messages for people in the midst of whom I've been this year ...

Hari - Our friendship ran on a bumpy road as the year began. But as it is with India and its highways, after a rough patch, there's always a lengthy smooth one. But because of the rough patch we went through, I realise you important you are in my life. My intellectual sparring partner. My buddy. All the best with your stint at the Indian Express. Hope you reach places which nobody has 'sawed' till date. (Giggles!) And yes, I couldn't have passed those exams without your help! Muaah!

Dheera - I hope we remain good friends lifelong. You've played a vital role in shaping up this current Arco, who's wardrobe, off late is being admired. (Smiles) But most of all, if you've agreed on this before, I'd consider myself fortunate if I've even come close to the man you always wanted me to be.

Nikita - I've made friends online through chats. But you are my first blog buddy! We've shared crazy experiences together. Sometimes, I feel it's impossible to believe that I havn't met you. And I don't know what designation you've given me (fighting buddy, not fighting buddy, pakaoing buddy, checking out buddy! LOL ) Distance makes the heart go yonder. We;ve had great conversations of fun and masti. And sometimes, that has brought even the loudest snores in the world to a standstill. May the world snore once again and may we relive the magic once again. After you're back from your trip, that is. And I hope, I'm of help to you on any topic personal / professional / nonsensical / checking out.. (Giggles)

Radhika - You wouldn't believe how glad I was, that I found you on the Web after so many years! Brought back old memories and created new moments to cherish forever. You've been a kind and a very open outlet to listen to my PJs. Congrats on your apprenticeship and I pray that you go places, keeping an account of things! My future CA in the making, eh?

Raj - Dude, we've had the most memorable time together. I've always come to you, whenever I've felt the need to escape from the daily rush and the monotony and you've always done more than enough to help me feel refreshed with crackling sense of humour. Our shoots were fabulous - the DON spoof! Our nightouts, the giant wheel at the Ambernath fair, the eating out at Bandra's Muslim hotels during Eid, talking about so many things.. Man! I cherish each and every moment. Thanks for everything you've done for me and I promise that I'll always be there for you.

Pia - You make me clueless about so many things in life. In other words, you make me think. The thinking is always worth it, but in the end, you get pushed to the back-seat. We've shared some great moments with you. Pardon me for 'Meet The Fockers', but I think it was just another faux pas. More happy moments to come in our lives. You have great potential on the career front and you're one of the few caring people I've met this year.

Indrani - Aah..I know I can be an ass sometimes with people. But with you, I've been an ass with a hole. The evening at Bandstand was a classic evening! Few evenings can come close to that, when it comes to class. And our discussions about films, films, films and your consistent desire to start new forms of business... great moments. Hope more of them are in store. I'll try my best not to turn down an invitation from you for a movie!

Sagar - Dude, you've reached new levels this year on the personal front. Wish you all the best. I had a great time in Goa. It was fun meeting your room-mates and knowing them. And thanks for the great coffee, masala bhat and hospitality. Damn, I shouldn't be telling you all this in such a formal language. Tu toh mera yaar hai! School buddies ke saath nahin jamta aisa formal tone.. anyways, just for the sake of my blog.

Abhishek, Raksheet - Guys, we have the most rocking time every time we're together. The Goa trip in summer was a memorable one. No matter where we proceed in lives after our graduation, may we always have such trips together. Such journeys take our friendship to all time highs and make me yearn for more.

Sushmita - We're back as friends this year, after that one year hiatus. Hope you've forgiven me for all the bad and distasteful PJs. You're a sweet and caring girl and that's your best trait. Few people today show it so openly as you do. Thanks for being there!

To all my classmates - I may not have forged a bond of deep friendship with any of you in all these three years, thanks to my elusive nature. I admit I've been obsessed with my professional commitments rather give time for activities like 'hanging out' or college activities. On the academic front, I may have been a bit too dominant in projects, discussions, etc. But I hope all of that was taken in good spirit and not at a personal level. Some things are just in my nature. I hope we are more open about certain things, rather than back bite. Or rather not bite at all. Just keep your mouth shut about it.

And yes, it's time you start blogging. It's a medium to watch out for.

The future is calling. Where are you?

Chat messengers reduce productivity at work

2006-12-22T02:20:00.000-08:00

The world is divided into two types of people. One – the hardworking. Two – the hardly working. There is a third category too - people who have enjoyed privileged memberships with both the types. This blog, is about them.

My estimates from reliable sources reveal that the world’s productivity would increase by atleast 12% if Gmail Chat, Google Talk, Yahoo Messenger and MSN Messenger would be banned from office computers. They’re a great way of you sitting on your computer terminal, yet pretending to work. But actually you’re chatting and spending time over casual conversation, (aren't you?) mostly answering rhetorics like ‘Wassup’ and ‘Hows life?’. Questions like these would be better off asked in person face-to-face. You could have Karan Thapar for company and I’d just love to see your face shrivel into a nut as he would sneer at you from behind those glasses. Even for the above questions. [Let me put it to to you this way, Mr.Chaudhuri – You are dating someone. I have the facts with me. The Sunday Times paparazzi spotted you making out with…]

Let’s give Karan some rest for the moment and make-out (not the one you're thinking) how the Third Type of people are a nuisance in your office. While assigned work often goes for a toss, I’ve often seen colleagues having casual chat, pretending to take a break that lasts for hours. Surfing Orkut should be allowed only for specific hours in a day, when the ISP can unblock it. The social networking craze is good way to stay in touch, mind you. And nevertheless, an innovative way to make contacts too.

I believe, a Happy Surfing Hour segment offices would be a constructive idea. All censored sites could be unblocked and staff members can surf and chill-out during that time. It’s better to allow staff to communicate through voice-based conversations, rather than to chat using text. A chat online for one hour mite yield the same results as a phone call for 3 mins. Therefore, rather than keeping the mind engaged to window conversations, emoticons, smileys and short-hand, its appropriate to have a heart-to-heart, however personal on the phone. Remember, productivity is at stake, here!

More so, in media houses, where work largely depends on deadlines. And sticking to deadlines is the topmost priority, no matter what the excuses might be. I think, it is because of these chat windows, that media people end up working long hours at office. It sounds sensible to avoid casual chatting in office environs and finish up with assignments at the earliest.

Recently, a senior at office, logging in from abroad into Google Talk, was shocked to find his subordinate, 'Available' on the same messenger. That too, with the music on! (So much for status messages!) It was the same colleague to whom he had assigned major responsibilities (lucky him), but the fellow was consistently being humbled by the deadline. Productivity of course, got a beating. But what was affected even more was his reputation for avoiding work and chilling during office hours on chat windows.

The senior did not make a big issue out of it, though. He calmly handed over the guy’s responsibilities to me (lucky me) and avoided delegating any major work to him. Perhaps he did not realise this change or maybe perhaps he did. But for the moment though, he’s happy to work-chat-work-chat-chat during office hours.

Some people just don’t get the point, do they?

IBN alive

2006-12-18T08:29:00.000-08:00

Prannoy Roy, Sameer Nair, Gautam Adhikari, Vinod Mehta, Chandan Mitra, Vir Sanghvi...Rajdeep Sardesai - the ivy league of ivory towers in the media. They're media moghuls who've come up the hard way and seen the most controversial times in Indian media, including the Emergency. They've survived as journalists through the thick and thin of times, often jeopardising their life and reputations by their much sought-after nods. Vinod Mehta should know best. Rajdeep Sardesai should know it even better.

His news-channel CNN IBN, jointly owned by him and Sameer Manchanda recently completed one year of a roaring presence in the Indian electronic media. The channel has surely etched a place on the remote, which cannot be ignored. It's natural to hurl abuses nowadays at the cable operators if we cannot tune into IBN.

Their anniversary feature was a special episode indeed. A year's round-up of stories that made a difference in some way or the other. IBN's exclusive package of premium electronic media was on showcase in the episode. The presentation made for excellent viewing, as it once for all sent the critics (read All Seeing Spy for WFN) thinking, I hope. The channel's attitude towards news and the presentation of news, seeking it, following it and analysing it for the viewers has been exemplary for a news-channel that is so young. IBN's future looks promising in Indian cities.

Much of the channel's aggression can be attributed to the people who run the channel's editorial functions. Rajdeep Sardesai (Editor-in-chief) and Sagarika Ghose (Features Editor) both are naturally aggressive and noisy, often leaving no stone unturned in flaring their nostrils over a controversy. It's a healthy habit as long as their nostrils flare up in all directions. They're a couple who always enjoy a healthy debate. However, they sometimes try to impose their opinion on the speakers, as is clearly seen in The Verdict, Face the Nation and India 360.

I'm not saying that their imposed opinions are wrong. They most often reflect the larger public sentiment correctly, but as standard journalism practice, they breach a certain protocol. However, its possible, that even they've realised that journalism in India needs to get much more aggressive. For long, the press as the fourth estate has been a mute observer and commentator on the scheme of things. IBN, for once, has realised, that it's time to get the wheels rolling for changes.

However, the channel is not without its flaws. Many a time, their programmes achieve a point of excellent debate. And that is exactly where you hear the anchor go ringing, "I'm sorry, we're running extremely short of time and we'll have to bring this discussion to a close..."
Can't there be programmes which take the leap a little forward? I'm sure there must be common sense enough to understand when a debate is reaching a solution.

The channel is yet to come up with more innovative programming. Debate and opinion being the highlights of IBN, they must include more feature based shows. Why not show documentaries shot in India exposing issues? There must be several stories that do not see a complete coverage due to time shortage on news bulletins.

Sports coverage is highly limited to Krishnamachary Srikanth. God, give him a break! The channel should get more versatile in its views and try to achieve a balance in the sports coverage and analysis.

Paras Tomar, initially an eyesore, today has come of age. He has a style of his own, that's true and he's sinking it in slowly amongst the viewers. But he should still try to let his guest do more of the talking rather than himself!

Hope the channel in all its entirety expands and spreads its impact in all directions. There is a very confident man at the helm of affairs - Rajdeep shouts-all-the-time Sardesai. NDTV, beware.