Guru - Uncomfortably recommended

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

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

"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

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?

"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

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

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

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

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.

Doomed

'Rudraksh' is the worst film I've ever seen. It had Sanjay Dutt, Sunil Shetty and (oh-why-oh-why) Isha Koppikar. Sanjay Gadhvi's 'Dhoom 2' comes very close to edging out Rudraksh from the much-easily-conferred title. And why not...with over 300 films being released every year at Bollywood, atleast some of them are bound to make it to the 'Hall of Shame'.

The promotional trailer was perhaps the slickest we'd ever seen. It seemed the stage had been set for the ultimate duel. Prince Hrithik in a negative role - master of disguises, techno geek, super-cool quotient and on the other hand you have Junior B, icy cool and persistent. Add a spice of Ash and a bikini-clad Bips gyrating on Brazilian beaches. Perfect formula? Not exactly. Perfect ingredients alright, but the formula, if any, left much to be desired.

Where's the story, dude? Half an hour into the film and I felt like walking out. Some cons of being a journalist. I want to see sense in everything. Why are only two cops chasing a much sought-after Mr.A? Why does Uday Chopra still retain his post even after so many goof-ups? And perhaps, the most important question of all - where did the bikes disappear??

Pop culture saw a craze for a phenomenon called 'biking' after the success of Dhoom. Bikes have always been the biggest brand recall from the original film. If cycling became a rage after Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar, the Hayabusa was the next rage to happen after Dhoom. I missed bikes in the sequel. Totally, you know!!

Uday Chopra was a welcome relief from the average performances from the rest of the cast. His humour was well-placed and the Baywatch runs on the beach were brilliantly shot. The guy deserves roles in those Priyadarshan comedies. Loud, chaotic, goofy and slapstick.

But honestly, the best part of Dhoom 2 were the trailers shown during the intermission. Some great movies are lined up, all of which I'm waiting to see.

Mani Ratnam - Guru

Anurag Basu - Metro

Madhur Bhandarkar - Traffic Signal

Nikhil Advani - Salaam-e-Ishq

Lets hope none of them will be as bad as Dhoom 2. Not even worse.

Amen.

Slow, but safe on Kabul Express

Somewhere down the line, I got a feeling that the distributors went overboard hyping up the 'Behind The Scenes' of the film. And then began my apprehension, that, what if the film is not as good as the thrilling stories we heard during the promotional interviews?

Thankfully though, the movie lives up to my expectations.

The story is an experience, somewhat like a slice in the life of two India journalists - played by John and Arshad. Its a journey over a period of two days in war-ravaged Afghanistan post 9/11. They desperately need an exclusive story for their news-channel back in India. And as they board Kabul Express vehicle and their only way to reach Kabul, they are, well, hijacked by Taliban soldier. Hijacked, eh? (Deja vu of Ramgopal Varma's ROAD, since this film too, is about a journey at gunpoint. Aah, anyways...)

Perhaps the most important character in the film, is the country and landscape of Afghanistan itself. Its political and military setting sets the premise when the story takes place and that lends itself to most of the screenplay. The grounding for most of the humour and thrill in the series of events in the journey of Kabul Express is mainly due to the socio-political climate of this country.

What disappointed though, were the rest of the cast and their characterisations. The landscape takes over the proceedings so much, that we get wafer thin portraits of John and Arshad. The only deeply etched character is of Imran Khan, the Pakistani army soldier, who once served the Taliban. Performances by the lead cast are therefore average. Arshad Warsi as always is the saving grace. John-hunky-Abraham has a total of 3 expressions in his Kabul-Express-manual. Big grin, confused grin and no grin with the hair gingerly, under control of course. (I still maintain, Zinda was his best performance.)

The humour for most part of the film is intelligent. It's a colourful relief, considering the barren landscape and dry performances. The Imran-Khan Kapil Dev-All rounder charade was smartly placed and so were other digs and contemporary world politics - Pepsi-Coke! So was the donkey, in the middle of the road.

The film wins on technical aspects - cinematography (Amitabh Mahaley - picture postcard purrfect), editing (Amitabh Shukla - neat) and a haunting background score (Julius Packiam).

The film deservingly is being screened at The Pusan International Festival, Toronto International Festival, London Film Festival, etc.

The entire packaging is of a world-class standard. Indian film-making hereby has gone one level-upstairs. It's not the greatest of films that you'd ever see. But it's an experience of a journey captured in the most difficult of situations in a war-ravaged country. Now that's a first for an Indian film-maker.

Kabir Khan can take a bow.

'Kaisa lag raha hai' journalism

I often marvel at the Aaj Tak reporters. They amaze me with their capabilities to stretch a non-news item into a full-length 30 minute khaas peshkash. And now I'm convinced, that they alone are the primary reasons of inflation, in this country.

Inflated news is the mainspring of an inflated economy.
Ask me, just as you've been asking hundreds of others. Including Mr.Snake Catcher, who had to face your 'volley' of questions a few weeks back...

Q: "So, Mr.Snake Catcher, you've just caught a snake from Sanju baba's apartment. How does it feel?"
A: "Feels good, ya! Damn good. Never felt better. Felt like I'd caught my wife red-handed, asleep with another man on Sanju's bed. Feels good, alright!"

Q: "Whoa! You must have been scared! Were you? How did it feel?"
A: "Scared? Who, me? No, ya! I'm a professional snake-catcher. How the hell could I be scared?"

Q: "So, what snake was it? And how did you know, it found it's way to Sanju baba's house?"
A: "It was a deadly viper, mind you! And his hissss got the whole neighbourhood awake. That's how I came to know about himmmmmmmm."

Q: "Now that you've caught the snake, sent it to its rightful playzone, how does it feel?"
A: "Feels good, ya! Damn good. Think I'll head for that glass of beer, which your editor is gulping down, right behind you, in the newsroom. Hehehe..."

Q: "And how does it feel, coming on national television? Aaj tak se baat karke aapko kaisa laga?"
A: "Bahut accha lag raha hai. Apne bhai behen mujhe dekh rahen honge...(nodding towards camera) Kai ga vahini? Kashi aahes? Aai, jevan karoon ghe..."

Q: "Mr.Snake Catcher...thank you for talking to us..So, there you saw, how Mr.Snake Catcher gave us a terrifying account of how he caught the snake, that had found it's way to Sanju baba's house. In our next section, we'll have a look at what animals have been caught in celebrity houses.

1. Once, a bhaaloo catcher was called for urgently at Sridevi's house. She had felt an immensely hairy animal leap into her bed and go beneath her bedsheets. The catcher on arrival, was disappointed to find that the so-called 'bear' was in fact Anil Kapoor. Naked.

2. Gauri Khan, once heard goats in her bathroom. She called up PETA (since there are no farmers near Bandstand), only to realise it was SRK inside, practising his lines.

AAJ TAK. SABSE TEZ.

There is no doubt, that we're witnessing an overdose of 'kaisa lag raha hai' journalism, nowadays. 'How does it feel' is what the brief is for reporters. Or is it? Of course, there are ways of arriving at a point. We are keen to know how do the newsmakers feel and we want to hear it from the horses mouth. However cliche it may sound, "Bahut hi accha lag raha hai..." from Indian Idol Abhijeet Sawant, just after he won the title, is just what you might have expected him to say. It's a different story that Mini Mathur, is not a journalist.

I feel Munnabhai would have done a better job. Atleast he'd genuinely ask questions to the people in power - "Tumko is maamle mein kya feelings hai?" (Remember the way he'd asked Suman...'Tumko mere baare mein feelings hai kya?")

Come to think of it, Munnabhai as a journalist would be interesting to watch, especially for mediamen. The media has become a subject of mockery today - In every episode, Laughter Champions has atleast one gag about newchannel waale. The print media has been padded from the ridicule, to some extent though.

Taking the Munnabhai possibility forward, let's hear how a normal news-report would sound like...
Munna: "Arey circuit, suna hai udhar baarish ho rahela hai? Log doob rahe hain kya?"
Circuit: "Tension nahin lene ka bhai !! Baarish toh solid ho rahela hai, bhai. Idhar ka collector saala kuch kaam nahin kar raha tha...usko do teen kaan ke neeche bitha ke diya na bhai. Ab sab theek ho jayega bhai..paani nikaal rahela hai bhai, BMC ka log. Sab shanti hai bhai."
Munna: "Hahaha..theek hai."

Talk about media impact. Immediate relief. No floods. No erring officials. Only Circuit and Munna. Reminds me a bit of that Anil Kapoor starrer 'Nayak', which had raised many eyeballs.
But a Munna Circuit journalistic pair would surely do some good today's journalism scene.

DON revisited

Two minutes into Farhan Akhtar's Don and Shah Rukh strikes a pose in a room of ballroom dancers. And I knew he wouldn't mess up the role.

Fourteen minutes into the film and SRK is found playing golf by the seashore. He strikes. And how! Knocks off his best man with the golf ball.

When Farhan Akhtar was quoted that the new Don is going to be "only style, no substance", I wondered what he had got himself into. Thirty minutes into the film and I know he can't spoil it from here. The plot is set. The characters are borrowed. And the stylists have done their job.

The film has received a mixed response. NOTE: Mixed, is a euphemism, here. Whenever a film's collections don't rise exponentially as they're expected to, a sugar-coated verdict - 'mixed' - is spread around.

What I liked about the film...

1. SRK is first rate as DON. He carries the role splendidly on his shoulders and Farhan's direction has kept in mind the 'King Khan' status he enjoys in the industry. In that sense, the role is tailor-made for him.

2. Mohanan's cinematography is ultra-slick. His earlier outing in Robby Grewal's Samay starring Sushmita Sen, was notable. He's succeeded in achieving the film's lead actors a sense of authority. The colour toning is generally grey, since throughout the film, the story line marches on the 'Evil v/s Evil' format.

3. Farhan Akhtar has borrowed the concept, but thankfully created his own version, since post-interval, the movie eludes the original screenplay. The twists and turns are swift and the racy screenplay does justice to the required tempo of the film.

4. Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy's background score maintains the agility of the screenplay.

5. Supporting cast - Boman, Rampal, Priyanka Chopra are worth a mention. Boman Irani is turning out to be one of the most versatile actors in the industry.

6. And finally, the surprise ending. Goes with the promo line of the film - Don ko pakadna mushkil hi nahin, na mumkin hai.


What I didn't like about the film...

1. The absence of clever humour is a disappointment. The chuckles during DCH...I hoped Farhan would do an encore of some sorts in DON. Black humour would have been perfect, here.

2. Isha Koppikar and Kareena Kapoor. Farhan's tried to keep up with the original DON's music. Perhaps not the right thing to borrow, especially when you know Kareena's put on weight. Isha is a waste.

3. The film can get confusing at times and that's one reason why family audiences are going to keep away from watching it for a second time. Blockbusters depend on the 'second-time-watch' potential. e.g Lage Raho Munnabhai, Rang de Basanti. I'm afraid, DON, doesn't satisfy the second-look quotient.

The film can bomb with good reason. SRK is never known for superhits beyond his conventional 'lover-boy' image.
e.g Asoka, One two ka Four bombed badly. Swades did average business. So did Abbas-Mustan's Baadshah. And off late, comedies (Lage Raho.., Phir Hera Pheri, Golmaal), romances (Fanaa, KANK) and 'leave-your-brains-at-home' action flicks (Dhoom, Krrissh) are the trend flicks that are doing great business.

DON's USP is its styling and packaging. While both can do enough to pull in the crowds, they cannot do enough to entertain.

Socialising online - courtesy Orkutrya

Is Orkut creating a world of online socialites? Just the other day I read a piece on 'air-kissing' in a Mumbai tabloid. Orkut may not give us scope for an air-kiss, but the platoform it provides to network (read socialise) may result in deliberately flattering concerns.

e.g a "Hey..wassup?" would sound more personal and genuinely concerned if said through a phone-call. Through Orkut, every other person who has 'added' you, does it, if they have no other business, online.

If you're birthday is on the cards, Orkut lists it out for you on your home-page. A friend of mine recently stopped displaying his date of birth on his Orkut profile. Rightfully so, I believe. You take the pains of putting up your birthday on your profile for others to see, so that Orkut can take new pains to remind them to wish you. What about genuine memories? Painstakingly noting down your birthday, someone would give you a call, no matter how distant he/she may be...now isn't that a sweetest good morning wake-up to receive on a birthday morning? 'You remembered? Oh..wow! Thank you so much!'

Another case is of 'simply hello' greetings. There was a time, when we'd call up friends, speak to them...empathise with their worries, share our daily troubles, giggle over silly jokes, all in real-time. Today, greetings, feelings, hi's and hellos are well...'scrapped'. Now, out of all the things in the world, is that the only word they could create for it? A 'scrap'?

Scraps have ushered in a world of artificial greetings. Just like those air-kisses in Page 3 parties. Yes, Orkut has helped us remain in touch with people - a single click is all it takes. But it has also opened the doors to comments from people you're not concerned with, people who're just trying so hard out there to get a piece of your attention. And testimonial threats? Read more about them here - Orkutrya

There have been times, when I've seen the first 10 scraps saying, "Hey...wassup?", "Hi..kya chal raha hai..?", "Hi..how was your day?"
While all this attention might seem flattering initially and you might be bowled over by the fact that so many people really are concerned about how your day was and are you being well-fed or not, the truth unfortunately is, that MOST OF THE TIME, they're posted by people with nothing else to do (read Orkutryas - The Orkut Dogs...hatttt kuttaaa!!). Yes, Orkut is addictive and people are keen to increase the size of their social networks. So, is it true that the more people you got on your friends list, the more popular you are? Or are you more friendly? Or..wait a minute..you're so famous??

I see genuine concern missing in the world of scraps. Genuine thoughts, feelings, meeting up, casual visits, courtesy calls, etc are slowly fading away as we get used to a world of web-cams, e-mail, e-cards, etc.

There's nothing like talking to a friend over a cup of coffee, laughing, giving that customary high-five, clapping your hands into each other, when you enjoy a good joke, laughing till your sides burst...

We're increasingly getting absorbed into a lifestyle where we're constantly obsessed with things that are out of our reach - virtual friends, celebrity lifestyles, etc. Orkut is great no doubt, to find a world, which we thought was lost once, in memory lane. But I think we must let Orkut be, what it's meant to be - a means to stay in touch. A warm-hearted conversation can only be made in person.

The world is in our fingertips. Place those fingers in the hands of a friend. The warmth you receive, is priceless. And a scrap is, well, a scrap.

The following lines from Lage Raho Munnabhai, said by 'Jhanviji' [:-) ] are memorable -

"Serial ke kirdaron ka haal to pataa hai, par Ma ka haal poochne ki fursat hi kahaan hai...
Internet mein duniyan se toh touch mein hain, magar pados mein kaun rehta hai? Jaante tak nahin!
Mobile, landline sabki bharmaar hai...lekin jigri dost tak pahunche, aise taar kahaan?"

Man of the moment...Horee

A dear friend celebrated his birthday recently. Mom calls him Horee, with her typical Bengali touch. He has bowled her over with his voice. Sample this conversation on the ashtami (eighth day) of Durga Puja celebrations - Mom wants to wish him good luck for his exams...I hand over the phone to her:

Mom: Hello! My darling! How are you?
Horee: (bowled over, laughing) Nomoshkar kakima...aami bhaalo aachi..tumi kemon? (Namaste aunty, I'm fine. How about you?)

A warm-hearted person, Horee would make a great uncle for my to-be-born kids, I always tell him. With him, I'm at ease with my thoughts. I've often debated whether there is something really like a 'best friend'. And I've also wondered where does he stand in my life - is he a best friend, or just 'one of my best friends'? In the end, I've realised that ranking friends is a total non-issue.

Getting back to the man of the moment, I was casually introduced to him at a coaching class. There I was, poring over microscopes and there he was, just around the corner, talking about a loo that he'd written about, in a popular teen-mag. Oh by the way, he has this strange stimulating attachment with toilets, loos and commodes. All of them, somehow get his creative juices flowing and every other day, I'm asked to sample some of his literary delicacies.

He's one of the most enchanting sculptors of sentences. Today, if I have any standards in reviewing written matter, the standards have been set by him alone . And therefore, he's spoilt me. I can no longer digest mediocre literature that I come across. I remember having trashed write-ups by editorial team-members while editing my college tabloid recently. All of it, because I thought that their piece of literature was junk, compared to Horee's writing standards.

I've assigned him the responsibility of writing my biography. This decision comes in the wake of my observations and calculations of his attitude towards his life in general. He has met with several ups and downs in life and taken all of them in his stride, saying, "It's okay. As long as it adds another interesting page to my autobiography, I'm happy." With such a belief, I'd imagine he'd be willing to remain adventurous all the way. And that would make his autobiography worth a read.

Both of us have also had our share of ups and downs. We became friends as mere travellers in local trains running in the wee hours. For once, I've mistakenly been bruised by the sting of this Scorpio. We were distant for a while, but it was the very same sting which had the healing touch. With Horee, it's his forgiving nature, that's helped cheer up things.

He's my Intellectual Sparring Partner, my googly-woogly bear, my compere...and I say this, just as I care. You are God's gift, a lion-hearted pen-wielding soldier.

Here's to you, Horee...cheers!

Raindrops keep falling on my head

You’re not alone when you’re walking in the rains, sheltered under an umbrella. There is the constant chatter of the raindrops falling on the rooftop. Pitter-patter, they go on and on. Sometimes (quite often in a city like Mumbai), their chatter often becomes highly abusive, if its pouring. Their grievances, their trials and tribulations…Oh, you feel like turning the umbrella over and mouthing them a few from your own vocabulary.

I almost did so, on Tuesday, as I made my way home from college. Splat, I opened my umbrella and they began. Two armies were battling it out in the war of wits. And hits.

“Vilasrao almost escaped today. Had I not sprung a leak that moment, the CM’s mountain sized water-mark on the sidewalk would have almost caught the media glare. And it would have been proved, that the soft-spoken minister also has a soft-spoken bladder. Damn.. we could have exposed him!”

The other army chirped, with a ‘we-told-you-so’ expression: “Not just him. It’s his entire motley of ministers. Did you know, there’s a special comode in the Mantralaya, which R.R.Patil favours. We think, its some lucky charm or something. But he always heads for that commode everytime he gets a call.”

“Gets a call? From whom?” retorted the other army, with their drops poised in anticipation.

“Call from nature, you assholes. Seems like you havn’t had enough of his moral policing. We guys miss Julie and Champa at D.N.Road now. It was amazing sliding down their curves, slowly and discreetly as they gyrated in the rain…”

Just at that moment, a Matador just whizzed past me, spraying me as I tried to shield myself, with my umbrella. While doing so, the muddy water splashed the fantasies of the raindrop armies out of their reverie. The jolt was quick and somehow in this aggravation, the armies grew even more aggressive and started pounding hard. Tapku, penetrated the umbrella’s cover and alighted softly near my earlobes.

“She’s sent a message for you,” he whispered softly.

“Who?” I asked, puzzled and pleasantly tickled by his presence.

“She, who loves the rains!” Tapku was bubbling with excitement.

“Who doesn’t love the rains, eh? Especially with people like you around, tickling my earlobes as if they were the folds of your…”

“Shut up!” he interrupted. “You very well know whom I’m talking about.”

I pretended to lift one of my fingers to shove him off on to the street, when – “Stop!! Stop, you son of a bitch! At least hear out the message. Then do whatever you want,” he said, frightened. “I was blessed to rest on her lips as she whispered the message to me for the first time,” he said, blushing.

“Is it?” I asked, teasing him. “Anyways, what did she say?”

“After a long days.”

Silence. Tapku was smiling triumphantly.

“What??” I asked, confused than ever before.

“That’s it!” he said, smiling and pattering his eyelids.

“What was the message?” I asked, firmly this time.

“After a long days,” he said, again. “That was the message.”

“Huh?? What am I supposed to make out of it?” I asked, now irritated. Honestly, I hadn’t hoped for something as nonsensical as this.

“I don’t know,” Tapku replied, yet again battering his eyelids in a manner that makes Dukes go wild. “But isn’t it romantic?”

“Romantic, my ass,” I answered disgustedly. “Now, I know what’s your degree of romance.”

“You do?” he jumped, eager than ever before. “Then, tell me,” he beckoned, slowly tickling me cheeks, “what is my degree of romance?”

“Piss off,” I said. And I flung him off my cheek.

Raindrops, I tell you. Every drop with its mildish tenderness, cajoles moments out of your memory. And as you ruminate on them, as to why he / she said so and how they said it, you find yourself, smiling, frowning or even giggling. A walk in the rain is not merely an exercise dodging potholes, but also an exercise jogging across those memories, once in a while. As she rightly said – After a long days. On this occasion, it was said by a friend of mine, not exactly a master in English verbiage, but yet she wanted to put across the thought of meeting after a long time.

Meanwhile the umbrella’s rooftop members had begun on another round of pounding my umbrella. Evidently it seemed, Vilasrao has sprung a leak again.

Shiv Sankees, not Shiv Sainiks

...and there I was, hanging on to his collar, my other arm flailing wildly in thin air as the raindrops battered my skin as if sanctifying his act. One feet rested on the footboard and the other bobbing wildly outside like a towel on a clothes-line. The wind made it even worse and all I could was stare blankly at his face in fright.

I still maintain, I'd done nothing brave in asking the few puerile Shiv-Sainiks to behave themselves, crowding illegally into the first class compartment. Their cacophony wasn't music to our ears. The other commuters merely tched tched in disgust. I was there too, a representative of a generation awakened (Right, Mr.Rakesh Mehra?) to fight for something which I believed was right.

Initially when these saffron banded, ruffian looking boys entered the compartment, they brought along with them the nauseating smell of booze. But that was not the end of it. There was dirty talk that followed, apparently about a certain lady that one of them had dumped. Triumphant about it, they were celebrating vociferously and their conversation would have given the Censor Board much fodder to chop (or rather, chomp on). It was numbing, especially when you could see the partially crowded ladies comartment wince annoyingly at their foul language and rash behavior.

The Rang De Basanti spirit is a dicey feeling. Sometimes, it overwhelms you so much that you forget the situation you're faced with and firmly believe in righteousness. But the resulting feeling is an unbelievable calm and serenity of thought, wherein nothing, absolutely nothing can shake your resolve, forget breaking it. And with such firm resolve I confronted them.

"Excuse me, do you realise this is a first class compartment? Do you have the required ticket?" I ask.
A sheepish grin followed as one of the four men startlingly looked up at me. "Are you the TTE?"
"No, I'm not...but I must request you not to create chaos in the compartment..." I replied flatly.
"Huh? Who're you to say so?" he hollered back. This time, I felt several faces peek around from the rest of the compartment. Everybody's eyes rested on us. That's Mumbai for you. Any minor confrontation, any minor abuse becomes an event, a spectacle which people watch with craned necks. And that's exactly what happened here. I was expecting some support from the rest of the 10-odd men in the compartment.
"What are you going to do?" he continued.
"Nothing. Just don't create pandemonium in the train." I retorted calmly.
"Why? What will you do? Throw us off the train? Eh?" And saying so, he rose.

A slap followed on my neck, which I could not manage to defend. A few men from the other corner of the train let go off their I-pods and Palmtops momentarily and tried to come to my aid, but this fellow had already dragged me to the door. The train was running swiftly, almost adding fuel to the proceedings.

And then he almost threw me off. Almost. I clung on to his collar, as the rain battered my eyelids, the scenes passing around me in a hazy marquee. My heartbeats almost climaxed into a pounding and I gasped to suck in wet air laden with raindrops. Suddenly, I felt a great rush inside me and I was pulled back into the train. Unable to breathe, I choked for air.

I was knocked out.

From what I was told when I woke up a few minutes later, just in time before my station arrived, the burly young men were in fact Shiv-Sainiks and it was the leader of their gang, who could have almost flung me at a passing railway pole.

I thanked my fellow commuters for the help, but silently brooded over the fact, that it was me alone who rose to pick a fight. Was I wrong in doing so? Or was I just trying to find a cause to take Shiv-Sainiks to task?

PS: Make that Shiv-Sankees, please.

The spy who shagged Jaswant

The timing couldn’t have been more perfect - the release of his book ‘A Nature’s Call to Honour’ (Wasn’t it ‘A Call to Honour’?) which supposedly has a mention about the mole in Narasimha Rao’s PMO. The current PM, the very mohan man, Manmohan has dared Jaswant Singh to shag the spy out of the closet. When last heard, Jaswant had done it.

But what one cannot deny is the focus that his sheepish narrative has received. If a certain DNA reviewer’s remarks are anything to go by, Jaswant has missed a golden chance to give an inside view of a “fascinating period in history”. (Bunty says Jaswant’s next book is going to be titled ‘One Night at Nature’s Call Centre’ about Jaswant’s nightmarishly long sojourn in Rashtrapati Bhavan’s shauchalay.)

Meanwhile let us treat ourselves to one of the most incredibly long and inane sentences in English literature lifted from Jaswant’s current literary accomplishment…

“in governance, to meet any form of challenge, such are routinely presented decisions will always have to be made and always in a relative void of information, for information is never complete, never in time, never focused and never entirely relevant, because no brief, however well prepared, will ever be adequate, no theory however astute will or can provide the needed insight, certainly not for long and theory by itself is never able to sufficiently absorb information and to then convert that into a series of effective actions…”

God only knows what point he was trying to make here. (Bunty says, the ‘God’ here could be the ‘mole’ he talked about. Smart Bunty.)

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Is our Prime minister too docile? I admire the fact that he’s the most highly qualified PM of the world, but at times, you need fire to retaliate to something as much as a terrorist strike. I guess Sonia just doesn’t do well enough to strike that match, or else, our supposed ‘puppet’ PM would have genuinely given fiery speeches.

My belief in thinking so stems from the very day he addressed the press after the 7/11 blasts. I believed atleast an occurrence like this, would arouse him from his ennui with the cabinet members.

Parag Kansara (The Great Indian Laughter Challenge finalist) offers some hope. ‘Socho…oolta socho…how would it be, if one day at a press conference, Manmohan would fling around his clothes just like Saurav Ganguly did at Lords…? He would remove his turban, swing it round and round, hurling abuses at Musharraf…’

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Kurukshetra always has been a place for events. Mahabharata was the greatest of them and the recent Princely tragedy was treated as an ‘event’ too, by the media. Going by the non-stop coverage, news-anchors were reduced to mere commentators. The best part – Prince is going to be given Rs.5 lakhs as compensation by the state government. Why? Just because it was an unfortunate incident and the poor emaciated kid fell into it.

Ah..! Now I know, why Johny Joseph hasn’t got those pot-holes removed from Mumbai’s streets!

Good-bye people, I’m off for a night in one of those deep-potholes. But before I leave, I must leave a tip-off for the media, shouldn’t I? And who better than Zee News!

Rude jolt of rudeness

Mumbai is not the repository of polished culture, courtesy and soft spoken denizens. Such culture and polite manners are expected when you're in a Western Country, everyone's happy (never mind George Bush) and polite exchanges are flowing as smooth as the Thames.

So what makes the recent Reader's Digest survey a topic of such debate? Is Mumbai indeed one of the rudest cities in thw world? The media has had a field day discussing the issue. Precious editorials have been devoted to it, guest columnists have been invited to write about their experiences in Mumbai, Mumbai Mirror reporter Bapu Deedwania purposefully dropped a bunch of papers at road crossing, only to end up photographed by her shutterbug and appear on the cover page and to prove that somebody did help her pick them up. That's not all - even Karan Thapar hosted a show on CNBC TV-18 figuring out with the help of several icons of the city, whether the survey had hit alarm buttons on Mumbaikar's manners.

While the survey elaborated on how an average Mumbai-ite never held doors for you, hardly said Thank-you's or Sorry's, what strikes through is the fact that the survey would have been held true for all of India. Why pigeon-hole Mumbai on the rude-oh-meter? Perhaps the survey was limited to certain famous cities of the world, but isnt it a obvious question that what holds true in one city may not follow a similar pattern in the other?

I'm willing to believe that the RD survey is a mere conjecture, wherein an inference has been arrived at without situational proof. Every great city has its individual class, which is mirrored by the people who reside, travel and identify with it. Mumbai, the potpourri of the rich and the poor, the haughty and the meek, the winners and the losers, builders and destroyers, the corrupt and the principled - similarly has its own value culture. Chivalry isn't a part of Indian psyche and hence, even though we may treat guests as God, we often leave them to fend for themselves until of course they refer back to us.

However, there is no denying that Indians are helpful when it comes to guidance. This country is full of experts , nevertheless also the financial capital of the country, Mumbai is a place where the educated class thrive. But do Mumbaikars indeed have the chutzpah to slam a door on your face? I'm not sure. If you've faced it, you need to watch your nose, next time around.

On the other hand, let us not forget the limitations of a survey like this. Notice the Health pages in the daily newspaper? Every other day a new survey result emerges and a study arrives at its conclusion - but how much do we adhere to it? Chocolates are good for the womb, chocolates are good for sexual life, smoking can cause your child to grow excess hair on his hair-lobes...
How many of these surveys have actually impacted our lives with such immediacy that we take this RD survey personally?

Mumbai may surely have its own way of dealing with it, by having its own share of stories to defy the survey. It is true, that Thank-you's and Sorry's are not the most often heard words on Indian streets. But there is no denying that Indians are the most warmest and friendliest people on this planet. Ask any tourist or traveller and he'll echo the same sentiments. In a country that is bound together by so many bonds in the face of diversity, unemployment, corruption, starvation, poverty, illiteracy, it is infact the smile on the faces of our people that has taken many a researcher into a puzzle at the spirit of this nation and its people who've been brought up under sub-standard conditions, always in a struggle for survival. And dear, when life is a struggle, we often take the manners for ransom.

India Rejuvenation Initiative

"You have to work within the system, to change the system."

- Atul Kulkarni in the film, Page 3

The common man stands testimony since times immemorial to instances of corruption at various footholds of the so called 'system'. While bribery, nepotism, favouritism and red-tapism have become a routine part of our lives, it is no surprise that we have begun to show the path of least resistance to these examples of sacrilege to a democratic set-up.

Interestingly, cinema has paved the way to show a sanguine path and the new generation (at least the educated middle-class) has begun to ventilate their grievances, intermittently. Be it cases of injustice (the Jessica Lal Case) or Mandal -II, wherein the young brigade from all sections revolted in rebellion for what it believed was a failure of meritocracy. Keeping all these recent uproars in mind, an expression of hope is a sign of relief for the future.

Nurturing that hope for admonishing the idiosyncracies of the system, is the India Rejuvenation Initiative (Bharat Punarothhan Abhiyan). Debate, being a compulsory and a mundane recourse to every issue, IRI comes as a breathe of fresh air since it votes for action over debate. Supported by a group of several educationists, senior IAS and IPS officers, senior government officials viz. Former Chief Election Commissioner J.M.Lyngdoh, Former Director General of Police J.F.Ribeiro and former Chief Justice of India R.C.Lahoti, IRI has resolved to direct action to fix accountability, transparency and probity into the system.

The need for an enterprise like this has always been felt, when the system has tried to take over virtue and principle. Key positions for senior officials in the bureacracy are often occupied by the corrupt. This prevents the new recruits - just pawns in the larger set-up to adhere to the higher authorities vested interests, often sacrificing ethics and standards, that their profession demands.

Lyngdoh believes, "It is necessary that honest public servants must be supported strongly when they stand against misdeeds. The corrupt officers are well-known to their colleagues." IRI will come into action when it will influence key appointments. "Whenever we come to know that the government is going to appoint a wrong officer on a key post, the members will meet the authorities and request to reconsider the decision. We also could resort to other democratic means to curb such practices as and when required," he adds.

Therefore, for IRI's powers to be fully functional in efficacy, it will necessitate its urgency into full-prominence since initiatives like these have easy chance to die a stifled death, thanks to the already empowered VIP class.

The group is also against these very VIP facilities for privileged few at the cost of the common man and law-abiding citizens. A case in point where IRI could have been effective, is a plethora of storylines, already done to death on celluloid. E.Nivas' Shool, Mahesh Manjrekar's Kurukshetra, Mani Ratnam's Yuva, Shimmit Amin's Ab Tak Chhappan amongst several others, have rightfully showcased how the system deserts the dutiful, when bribery and politics permeate a system, that should ideally remain impregnable.

While IRI should successfully create a beginning somewhere in exposing corruption, gross inaction and inefficiency in the echelons of power, it remains to be seen how much of an edge it has over agencies like the Anti-Corruption Bureau (ACB) and Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI). These agencies are believed to have also been swallowed into the pool of dirty politics in several high profile cases, tampering evidence and concealing information.

A welcome move would be the setting up more and more fast-track courts. This would ensure that there isn't any time spent in dispensing justice to the needy. Also, a culture of pressure groups coming up in every state would energise the intellectual vanguards of an already suppressed system. Not only that, civilian participation for IRI initiatives and citizen action groups will help constant pressure to be mounted on the administration and the media will only be to too glad to oblige by monitoring activities throughout.