Double EnTender

Two pieces of art, worlds apart, that impacted me over the course of a weekend.

Rarely has someone thoughtfully conveyed something to me that relates to me and directly affects me. Thank you. For understanding, and for finding the right words.

Sit, drink your coffee here; your work can waitawhile.
You're twenty-six, and still have some life ahead.
No need for wit; just talk vacuities, and I'll
Reciprocate in kind, or laugh at you instead.

The world is too opaque, distressing and profound.
This twenty minutes' rendezvous will make my day:
To sit here in the sun, with grackles all around,
Staring with beady eyes, and you two feet away.

-Vikram Seth

This ghazal owns me at the first line itself. I have a version sung by Noor Jehan of this excellent lyric by Faiz Ahmed Faiz. What starts off as a romantic poem speaking off desirable love turns into a brilliant social commentary. There is more to this world than love and that the poet would see his view of the world corrected before he sees his love go through till the end. Don't miss the transition from the first stanza to the second. The lyrics and the meaning have been sourced over a few places on the net (I knew most of the words, but not all).

Mujh se pehli si mohabbat mere mehboob na mang
Mujh se pehli si mohabbat mere mehboob na mang

Maine samajhaa thaa ke tuu hai to daraKhshaaN hai hayaat
Tera Gam hai to Gam-e-dahar kaa jhagaDaa kyaa hai
Teri surat se hai aalam mein bahaaron ko sabaat
Teri aaNkhon ke sivaa duniyaa men rakhaa kyaa hai
Tu jo mil jaae to taqadiir niguuN ho jaae
YuN na tha, maine faqat chaahaa tha yuuN ho jaae

Aur bhii dukh hain zamaane men mohabbat ke sivaa
Raahaten aur bhii hain vasl kii raahat ke sivaa
Anginat sadiyon ke taariik bahimaanaa tilism
Reshm-o-atalas-o-kamaKhwaab mei­n bunawaae hue
Jaa-ba-jaa bikate hue kuuchaa-o-baazaar men jism
Khaak men lithre hue Khuun men nahalaae hue
Jism nikale hue amaraaz ke tannuuron se
Piip bahatii huii galate hue naasuuron se

LauT jaatii hai udhar ko bhii nazar kyaa kije
Ab bhii dilakash hai teraa husn, magar kyaa kije
Aur bhii duKh hain zamaane men mohabbat ke sivaa
Raahaten aur bhii hain vasl kii raahat ke sivaa

Mujh se pehli si mohabbat mere mehboob na mang
Mujh se pehli si mohabbat mere mehboob na mang

[daraKhshaaN = shining, brilliant; hayaat = life; dahar = time, world;sabaat = stability, permanence; niguuN = bow;taariik = dark; bahimaana = dreadful, terrible; tilism = spell, magic; atalas= satin; kamaKhwaab = brocade; silk woven with gold and silver flowers;jaa-ba-jaa = hither-thither; lithaDe = imbrued; amaraaz = diseases; tannuuron = ovens; piip = pus; galate hue = festering; naasuur = ulcer;vasl=meeting]

The n+5 theorem

This post was due on the 27th of July. I wrote about Allan Border instead. You know, birthday boys and girls are special. However, the day marked another significant little personal milestone for me. An anniversary of significance. Five long years ago on that day, Avinash and I boarded a Delta Airlines airplane wearing a ridiculous suit, with loads of relatives happy to see us off and a Brief History of Time as reading material (We were sad, sad people then. I’ll reserve my comments on the situation now). The trip abroad for a Masters is a strange little journey. It is a shift of the magnitude of the movement of tectonic plates. The breaking up of world into continents. Literally. It is a fabulous experience, a coming-of-age for home-grown boys like me, a step into a life which is tangentially opposite to the one you know (today’s generation is much more informed than us, you know the one’s the pronounce the J in Jansport with a Y), a rite of passage that will shadow you for the rest of your life.

Therein lies the dilemma. How influential is the shadow? How long will the effects linger? How long are you bound to stay in this country? Graduate students often fail to clearly answer the one question that they should have answered foremost: why exactly are they here? For the love of God, money, education, partying, freedom, women, men, rental cars, Walmart, rental apartments, unlimited refills of soda, Taco Bell, long weekend deals, rolling R’s: one of these, all, or none? They get to the US, get through their Masters, get their first paycheck, their first car, first serious attempts at arranged nuptials, actually getting married, getting their H1B visa stamped, applying for the green card, buying the first house, fussing about their lawn, buy bulk groceries from Costco and if productive, have a couple of babies too. The seemingly unbreakable sequence of events stated above is punctuated with trips to India where a few tears are shed with the parents, comments made about how India is progressing, observations made about how the country has changed beyond recognition, pleasant nods made when told that kids are best brought up in India, US’s role in world affairs is tch-tched, and a general doomsday prediction is made about how your life will go down the drain if you decided to stay on forever in the US.

Sum of all fears, expectations and conversations is a common refrain: I’ll come back to India in five years. Somehow, the magical number of five has stuck. Perhaps it has do with the arithmetic around finishing your degree in two-three years, getting a job and recovering or accumulating some money, depending upon how graduate life has treated you. Somehow, five seems the talismanic number that people agree upon is a good time to have enjoyed the good life before they head back to their roots. Somehow, five seems to be the acceptable threshold at which you haven’t done too much to break all ties with your family and friends, where you and your American passport-holding kids will have least trouble adjusting back to the reformed India.

Which is what makes the five year anniversary a significant date. I have gone through the above mentioned steps but find myself firmly entrenched in a life that I have built out of choice. There are still the trips to India, still the talks about how it is better than ever before to go back, to blend in. There are still beliefs that one so attuned to the comforts of the west will not have to cut back heavily on the benefits as India is fast catching up. There are still talks about how life is empty without having family close by.

However, if it were all so easy to pack up and start all over again, why isn’t it so? It’s a vicious cycle of voluntary entrenchment. You dig your heels in, enjoy the stability and yearn to be swept off by the ocean waters you see from your stakeout place on the top of the trees. There is still always the hope, always the desire, for you know you don't belong here. The plan to return is always existent, just difficult to implement. So, here, ladies and gentlemen is my most realistic assessment on the situation. My theorem about returning back to India. I’ll go back to India in five years time … from today.

Halla Bol!

That, for the unintiated is Mangal Pandey a.k.a. Aamir Khan in flowing hair and puffy eyes and striking moustache's call. Yes, I saw 'The Rising: Ballad of Mangal Pandey' first day first show on Friday at the most disgustingly maintained theater in the whole world: Roxy Cinema in Kirkland. The fact that this is the only theater that shows Hindi films in the Seattle area, they charge $10 for a movie experience like none other. The sound stinks, the movie roll might just slide up such that you see the head below the feet (it happened in Hum Tum), the floor is sticky and I don't want to know what caused it to be that way, the restrooms are terrible, and the service is appaling (they wait a good half hour after the movie's scheduled time to fill in more seats). That said, I have seen more movies in this theatre than any other in my life :-( Why do I like Hindi films so much??

What can one say about the Rising? The first Aamir Khan release in 4 years, first after Lagaan, this movie had great curiosity value from the moment it went on the floors. So what is the movie about? Mangal Pandey is the man purported to have started the first freedom struggle of India (called the Sepoy Mutiny by the Brits). The story goes that the British made bullet cartridges made off cow and pig fat which was unacceptable to both Hindus and Muslims. Mangal Pandey protested against this, led a small revolt where he injured some English officers and was ultimately hanged.

So, that's the story. However, there isn't enough matter to fill in a two and a half hours. So, what do we do? We throw in the story of a friendship with a British officer (this was still ok with me), throw in a romance with a nautch girl, throw in three unnecessary songs (barring the title song and the mujra, none were justified), throw in yet another romance with the British officer and a sati, and brief references to other key players in the uprising (Tatya Tope, Rani Laxmibai, Bahadu Shah Zafar etc.).

There are a lot of good talents involved in the movie. Ketan Mehta handles quite a few scenes with flourish, Aamir Khan is superb in portraying the firebrand sepoy, Toby Stephens impresses with his performance and the technical team is in fine form. But the obvious mistakes are too much to overlook. I had hoped that Aamir Khan would have good 'script sense', but he errs in picking the right script here. The music from Rehman is appallingly bad (if someone disagrees, be my guest) for a big production like this, and the women are completely wasted.

I see a great future for indian cinema in the coming years. I have a firm belief that the presence of songs in the story is our USP, and that we should not bend to the diktats of a western audience or an impatient generation. The key to making a quality product is the presence of a good script where the songs flow with the narrative. There are instances of perfect movies (Sholay, Mughal-E-Azam) on that account so there is no reason it can't be done again.

I would definitely recommend The Rising to be seen at least once. I probably succumbed from the pressure of my expectations and came away a litle dissapointed.

No issues. Its Halla Bol, definitely not Dabba Gol!!

Panoramania

Generally, when it comes to photography, I have developed a strong liking to be in front of the camera than behind it. At about 24 years, 5 months and 13 days, I realised I was photogenic. Or so I have been told.

Nonetheless, a couple of years after that, I purchased my first digital camera. A Canon Powershot S50. It is a utility camera which is at the higher end of the point and shoot family. The standard features notwithstanding, it does very well in daylight photographs. Additionally, the freedom that a digital camera gives in taking a large number of photographs, dismissing those that aren't upto the mark and seeing your results instantaneously is priceless.

One of the things that fascinate me is the 'stitch' mode photos. You can take a series of photos, that can be stitched together to get a panomaric effect. Be warned that I am pretty ordinary photographer (I have seen the work of fellow bloggers like Aparna and Deepak and it is really good), but the photos might interest you.

1. Whistler mountain, Canada
This was my first attempt at using the stich mode and the result is an undirected mess. There is no specific feature of the area I am looking at besides it being part of the mountain range.


2. Lake Chelan - Columbia River
This one is much better and is a striking view of a river flowing on the left and a an independent lake on the right. This would not have been possible with an ordinary camera. The shame is that the 360 degree view from where this photograph was taken was so breathtaking that this area of capture is but a small part of the story


3. Mount Rainier
Fresh from the press. Two days old. Drove to Rainier on a picture perfect day and got a perfect picture. Notice the solitary cloud right in the centre. Produces a terrific effect. This mountain is one of the reasons I like the Northwest so much.

Soli - Lowkey no more

"Finally. After months of procrastination based on my inability to agree upon a title for the blog, here it is. The blog, that is. There is a title too, but it isn't witty by any means. How long could I have continued without doing this? The "Shoot for the moon" theory wasn't working for me. This is much better. I have decided not to fly to the moon. I will jump off the table and land on my two feet on my carpetted floor. Lets see where the baby steps lead."

Thus began my blogging journey exactly a year back. What started as an experiment has blossomed into a full-fledged engagement. I have got to know some truly interesting and smart people over the year, inspired some to start their own blogs, discovered periodically how much I enjoy writing, struggled with the medium like everyone else, and all in all, had a lot of fun. I also met a few long lost friends through the blog, had about 10,000 visits to my site, and was suitably humbled by the sheer magnitude and ability of fellow bloggers. I have also enjoyed the creation of a space and a world that is entirely my own. I spent some time revisiting my blogs from day 1 (you can do it too if you have the time and inclination), and I can see the evolution of a better writing style and clarity of thought. I also enjoyed seeing at what point the 'regulars' to this blog joined in. The first year is probably the toughest. That is of course till you start the second :-)

Stay tuned for more updates as the journey continues. Solilowkey is low key no more! Happy Birthday, dear blog.

P.S> I am on work-inflicted break right now, hence the posts are far and few in between

O Captain! My Captain!

(with due apologies to Walt Whitman). This post is dedicated to one of my sporting heroes on his birthday (it must be July 27th in Australia already). Allan Border, may you live long! Australian's captain courageous, the wall much before Dravid came around, gutsy fighter, determined, aggressive with a ruthless spirit and a never say die spirit.


Border in full flow


Border is one of the true greats of the game. I don't know when I became a fan, but it was enough to convert me from a right-handed bat to a left-handed batsman. Those who look in awe at the invincible Australian team today might be well-served to remember that in 1984, West Indies had wiped out Australia 5-0 in a test series. After a tearful departure by the then captain Kim Hughes, Border took over. The team went from defeat to defeat with the captain playing several lone hands. He persisted with the team and built a winning combination that captured the Reliance World Cup in 1987. Those who talk about the fact that England hasn't won the Ashes in a while should look back to 1989 where he led the Aussies to a 4-0 win over Gower's team. The foundation was laid and Australia has never looked back. He groomed Taylor, who in turn gave way to Waugh and Ponting now rests easy with the best possible team in the world. His combination with the first super-coach of one day cricket, Bob Simpson yielded great results.


World Cup champions circa 1987


Border was never as talented as Mark Waugh or David Gower, but had the grit and the determination to grind it out. He was fanatical about not giving his wicket away. Kapil Dev once rated him as one of his most prize wickets (and he did get him on 8-9 occassions I believe). His orthodox left spinners were very effective, none more useful than the spell where he got Gatting's wicket in the world cup finals. One of the most cherished cricketing moments for me was when I got to see him play live, at Brabourne stadium in the 1989 Nehru Cup against Pakistan. When he rode onto the field, the crowd was chanting 'Border Border'. The fan following was very evident. To see him get out cheaply that day did dampen my spirits, but not my awe for the man. As a kid, all I wanted to do was to go to Australia and meet him :-) I would also cherish cutouts from Sportstar that I had off Border and the then Australian team. I remember the match where he whipped England for 83 of 42 balls so vividly.


Bowlers beware, I ain't going anywere!!

Here is a short summary of some of the great feats he performed in his career.
Most tests : 156
Most test runs : 11,174
Most Test catches : 156 (I think this record is broken currently)
Most Consecutive tests : 153!!!!
Most Tests as captain : 93
First player to score 150 in each innings of a match
27 centuries with a test average over 50
32 test wins as a captain

The Australian Cricket Board have also paid him the ultimate tribute by naming a medal after him. The Allan Border medal today is the top accolade in Australian cricket and players try and perform at their best to win it after the end of every cricketing season in Australia

Stats don't do him enough justice. In Australia, Border was God because he converted his team from sore losers to world beaters. Another left-handed captain with more talents but lesser grit was on his way to do the same with the Indian team. Now we know what seperates the greats from the legends.

Hell no!

I am sorry for the miscommunication. I don't intend to stop blogging at the moment. If I do, it will be because I am bored of it, not because it I the words deserted me. I am too thick-skinned for that. Plus, I think I am not done with everything I had to say. All I wanted to convey was that one of my motivational factors to continue writing is the constant presence of 'friends' (I know some of my fellow bloggers well enough to call them that) on my blog. Your concerns in the previous post just emphasised that point.

Moving away from that subject matter. Here are some uninteresting facts about what happened on July 19th over the years

1553: Fifteen-year-old Lady Jane Grey is deposed after a nine-day reign as queen of England. She is executed for treason the following year.

1799: French troops in Egypt discover the Rosetta Stone, a basalt slab inscribed with three ancient languages that allows researchers over 20 years later to translate the heiroglyphics of ancient Egypt.

1848: In Seneca Falls, New York, women's rights advocates Lucretia Mott and Elizabeth Cady Stanton open the Seneca Falls Convention, which demands full citizenship rights for women.

1870: France declares war on Prussia to begin the Franco-Prussian War, which will result in the unification of Germany and the end of the reign of French emperor Napoleon III.

(Parth's own contribution: No Ashes test match was played on this day in the entire 20th century)

Born on This Day
Herbert Marcuse, philosopher (1898)
Rosalyn Yalow, medical physicist (1921)
George McGovern, politician (1922)
Samuel Colt, gun inventor and manufacturer (1814)
Lizzie Borden, accused murderer (1860)
Ilie Nastase, tennis player (1946)
Parth Pandya, boy blunder (1970 something: edited as per Sagar's comment)

Hoarse Whisperer

That's how I sound this morning. Throat has gone for a toss right now. I get a feeling somehow that people around me are a more relieved lot. Maybe my mind is playing games with me.

Married people envy single people. Single people don't know what the fuss is about, but look forward to marriage anyway. Smart single people figure out that they can rub it in by just talking about their simple life.

I have new respect for Seattle rain. Given that summer is supposed to be here, and the heat really renders the lawn/plants dry, the intermediate bursts of rain help save me a lot of effort and water bill.

My respect for National Awards is going down. I don't agree that Page 3 was the best movie of the year and Saif definitely didn't give the best performance of the year.

I saw 'GoodFellas' finally. Not bad, but the mafiosi genre is disinteresting me now. Too many of them, I think. Thankfully, not too many of those are made nowadays. Of course, Godfather is so so so brilliant that nothing will ever come close to it.

Haven't see Sarkar or Paheli or Dus or a bunch of new Hindi movies. I saw 'Wedding Crashers' instead. C'est la vie.

I am reading up on a passion that I have always pursued half-heartedly. I have given myself a year to try this seriously. If it works out and the blog is still around, you'll hear about it.

If you are among the bunch of people who have been following this blog regularly, thanks for your loyalty and support.

Birth of a poem

That fleeting thought, that ephemeral brainwave,
is all it takes to spur a revolt,
in the ever so dormant psyche.
That out-of-reach pen,
those never to be found blank sheets,
that increasing race against time,
to retain that moment of inspiration,
that has run dry for the savant.
Oh-so-perfunctory in his thought process,
so sectarian in his view of things,
leads a new genesis of life,
with a cursory attack of delirium,
like an evanescent lightning strike,
empties the ink onto the paper,
then treats his work like an after-thought,
like the message in a bottle,
left to wobble in the sea

P.S. I have been diagnosed with writer's block. This has happened before. Circa 1999. I wrote the above lines seeking that inspiration, struggling for it and finding it all along the way. I am hoping for a repeat. Pray for an encore.

Wayside Passion

I saw two really varied movies this week, after getting hands of them a little later than I had hoped. Here goes.

The Passion of the Christ
I like controversial movies. They catch my attention and pique my curiosity. I first read about this movie in a writeup in Time magazine while it was being shot. On the cover, it seemed like a good idea. A movie shot entirely in Aramaic (in which the word for father seems to be Abba, Urdu influence perhaps, or maybe even vice-versa) and directed by Gibson (I disliked his Patriot, but the Braveheart remains a movie I like immensely), this movie seemed to be the perfect fodder for controversy. You just got a Christian president while Jews were up protesting the Anti-Semitism that was potentially a feature of the movie. All the relevant groups had been engaged. Cut to the movie. The movie deals with the last 12 hours of Christ leading upto his crucifixion. Now, I am not a Christian and while I am familiar with the story, it wasn't so integral to me that I wouldn't be able to watch this movie objectively. So how is the movie? Well, it is filled with mind-numbing violence. Christ gets beaten up from the start to the end of the movie. Given the amount of bruises he suffers, I even wonder how he survives till the crucifixion. There is very little dialogue, music is ok and there is extra emphasis on the slo-mo shots. Is this a movie for our times? Is the director trying to tell us that given the exposure to violence that we have on TV and movies, his way of telling us that Christ's suffering surpasses all others is to show it in the most graphic manner possible? Perhaps. If the message is to emphasize Christ's sacrifice, it somehow got lost in the way. You do have the most famous quotes from Bible popping up all over the place, so you can identify in part with what's going on. I would recommmend this movie if you are an avid movie-watcher, else skip it.

Sideways
This was one of the most talked about movies last year. A low budget movie with no known stars, this movie got 5 nomimations at the Oscars. A movie about two friends spending a week in wine country as they go through their mid-life crisis, this movie is steeped in humor and skillful characterizations. Directed by Alexander Payne (About Schmidt), this movie takes you on an unexpected ride and has depth in its conetnt if you pay attention. A failed novelist Miles, is the best man for his friend Jack's wedding. He takes Jack, a former soap star, to a trip into the wine-country of California. The contrasting characters of the depressed and negative Miles and the horny Jack throw up a volatile cocktail when two women enter the mix. From there on, the movie is an amalgamation of witty, charming and insightful moments that lead to a satisfying climax. Of the performances, Paul Giammati's acting stands out. He sinks into the character neck deep and comes out triumphant. This is not a classic in my books, but is definitely a must-watch.

A recent post by Geetanjali about a blogger's meet in Bombay made me rue the missed opportunity there. Nonetheless, how about a Seattle based blogger's meet? Just a thought. Will have to see responses to consider that possibility

Because I am worth it too

A set of advertisements have started making the rounds of TV. L’Oreal, the provider and sustainer of beauty have now come up with a line of products for men. Anti-wrinkle, anti-dark eyes, anti-ageing, anti-social etc. Picture this ad

A 30-something guy is running on the treadmill. An attractive 30-something American blonde passes by. Guy gives female the look. Female looks away disapprovingly. Narrator: You think you are still in the game. She thinks your game is bingo. Ouch. Guy applies L’Oreal’s cream and voila, the next time he sees the female, the female turns around and gives him the approving smile. Aur yeh laga sixer!!

This got me thinking about how times are changing for us men. I mean, aren’t 30-something men supposed to grow pot-bellies, sit in front of the TV all day, leave the top two buttons of the shirt open and belch approvingly. Apparently not. The new generation of men (let’s put me in the middle of it and I am almost 27)is suave, smart, health-conscious and hold your breath, presentable. This ad represents the next level we have to reach. Is this the arrival of the metrosexual man? Is this the revenge of the female sex? The constant pressure to meet the bar that the opposite sex has set? The objectification of men? The centuries of scrutiny turned on its head? What else could it be? The character Elaine Bennis, from "Seinfeld," once said the male body was unattractive because it was strictly meant for utilitarian purposes, almost like a Jeep. True? Perhaps. I can only smell conspiracy here, and I hope to escape its clutches.

Unfortunately, I find myself already trapped in the middle. Narcissus has come to visit me later than usual. While all my growing years I did not notice my non-existent biceps and my coat-hanger body frame, I found myself in the middle of men my age facing what I’d called the mid-life crisis in terms of looks. 25/26 year olds worrying about their paunches affecting their matrimonial prospects. No dirth of girth here. Receding hairlines was another issue. While at Texas A&M, I watched my friends struggle with these issues with mild amusement. I actually felt comforted to have a lush mop of hair and an absolutely flat tummy and scoffed at these notions. I don’t remember actually worrying about how I looked or having spent more than a couple of milliseconds in front of a mirror. Then came the sedentary job and the Indian notion of prosperity. Couple this with hair flying away never to come back and I knew that Narcissus was here to stay. Imagine going to a barber and asking him not to cut the hair too much. How painful is that? I took to the gym for a bit to see if I could solve my 30/32 problem (copyrighted term: it means that you are too fat to wear a pant size 30 but a 32 will hang loosely on you). Then I realized. No sacrifice will make my hair come back. I can’t starve to suck my belly in. I cannot commit the sacrilege of skipping desserts at meal time or not eating fries when the craving comes. Isn’t the purpose of life altered beyond recognition? Let this be heard by one and all. Looks don’t matter, food does.

Am I ready to move from the category of presentable men to the pretentious ones? Am I ready to sink to the depths of ugliness that the average male goes to once he realizes that good looks are out of the range? I am ready to do neither. The middle road works best for me. The Man in the middle, the aam aadmi, the average Joe, the progressive Neanderthal. Won’t you agree that the ‘hunk’y dory guy is worth it too?

Hazaron Khwahishen Aisi ki aisi filmein aur banein

Hazaron Khwahishen Aisi is one of those movies that comes straight at you like a thunderbolt. It is overwhelming, strong, intelligent and is anything but run-of-the-mill. It shakes you out of your stupor and brings you face to face with an era that was lost on people of my age. The story starts in the 60s with the riots in Meerut and spans several years including the Emergency period. It is a story of a generation filled of strife, of angst, of ideals, of political upheaval and how the lives of the three main protagonists are affected by it.

The three protagonists Siddharthh (Kay Kay), Geeta (Chitrangada Singh) and Vikram (Shiny Ahuja) are classmates in Delhi. The come from different strata of society and follow different paths. Siddharth follows the Naxalite movement in Bihar despite his love for Geeta. She goes on to marry an IAS officer. In the meanwhile Vikram, the son of a Gandhian, is a small town boy with big ambitions. He has unrequited love for Geeta, and becomes a networker, a fixer and climbs up the ladder of political contacts.

Geeta breaks her wedding and goes and joins Siddharth in the villages to participate in the revolution. The political upheavals and the challenges that tests the ideals the protagonists follow make the rest of the movie. The struggles of the protagonists mirror the growing up of a generation and the loss of innocence.

The beauty of the movie lies in the script and the extremely mature handling of a topic like this. Sudhir Mishra deserves full credit for making a movie for a time lost to everyone, a movie where none of the three characters is either a hero or a villain. The characters are brilliantly portrayed by the three actors. Watch out especially for a terrific debut by Chitrangada Singh. Yes, she will remind you of Smita Patil at times with her looks. Shiny Ahuja is excellent and Kay Kay follows close by.

The use of Ghalib's shaayari at different parts of the movie in Shubha Mudgal's haunting voice is apt. I don't typically recommend a lot of movies, but I will recommend this one. It is not for the faint-hearted, but is especially for those who have a fundamental problem with the lack of original ideas in the Hindi film industry (this a bilingual fim actually). If you have seen it, please let me know what you think of it.

Yesterday Once More

... while we wait for a repeat. June 25th is a red-letter day in Indian sport history. Probably the greatest. And I don't remember any moment of it. None at all. A month shy of my fifth birthday, what else was so critical to my life on that day that clouded my memory thus? What other momentous occurrence caused me to forget the exuberance that I have waited another twenty years to feel and haven’t felt yet? Kapil’s Devils had won the World Cup on this day circa 1983. Out of the blue, up against the odds, the underdogs had defeated the rampant West Indians. I have seen highlights of the match several times since. From Srikanth’s 38 to Kapil’s great catch of Richards to Amarnath’s match winning performance, the match was the making of a cricket team. The cricket mania took off for good in India ever since. In a way, it was this match that caused the downfall of other sports in India (I mean this is a relative sense, other sports weren’t phenomenally popular, but they just vanished after this).

The closest we got was the last World Cup finals. I wanted India to win because Tendulkar deserved it. The man has practically constructed India’s team since he joined in 1989. Your Sehwags and Dravids are direct products of the Tendulkar effect. He single-handedly shepherded India to the finals breaking the record of most runs scored in a single World Cup tournament as well as becoming the highest scorer of runs in World Cups. The finals were a great chance for the resurgent Indian team to show its mettle too. Alas, the finals were lost at the end of the first over from Zaheer. I don’t remember the pleasure of India’s success at the world cup, but I remember the agony. How I wish I get to see the joy of seeing India win next year. The World Cup is next year. Why am I writing this article right now? You are right. The timing is off. This article should have been written a year back. In this day and age, its all about preparation. You can’t start six months in advance and build a winning team. That’s how Australia won the last two world cups and may win the next one. That’s why we need to fire up our one-day team which is in the pits right now.

Am I just a die-hard optimist or can the Indian team bring me yesterday once more?


Running away with the match 


Kapil with the World Cup 

Tag along

I got tagged by a couple of people. I think a lot of people have stories similar to mine. Voracious reader eons ago, sporadic reader now, wanting to get back to normal.

Last book I bought - Maximum City by Suketu Mehta, Alchemist by Pauolo Coehlo and The Monk who sold his Ferrari by Robin Sharma

Last book I read
1. Rubaiyat by Omar Khayyam
2. Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri

Books currently reading - Actually, there are a couple I am reading simultaneously
1. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky
2. The Alchemist by Paulo Coehlo

Total # of books I own - Close to 50 non-computer books

Books that mean(t) a lot to me - I can't think of books influencing me too much (I feel jealous that it happens to others), so I am just going to list some favorite books that come to my mind
1. The Hardy Boys & Famous Five series: I read 30 of them in 30 days in one of my summer vacations when the circulating library would allow me one a day.
2. The adventures of Huckleberry Finn : I won two competitions in a day at school and gave the same prize. Gave one to my cousin Vyom and kept one to myself. The book rocks, but its what I did with it that made it special
3. Yes Minister and Yes Prime Minister : The best satire written. Period.
4. Madhushala : This explained why Amitabh had special genes
5. Freedom at Midnight : Thrilling read for anyone interested in the period related to India's independence
6. Catch22 : Because life is like that
7. Clockwork Orange : Loved it as soon as I read it
8. Lord of the flies : Brilliant basis for the story and execution

The following bloggers have been tagged
Avinash
Sachin
Aparna
Archana

The choice is yours

 
This is a real road sign, en route to Mt. Rainier, 100 miles from Seattle. Paradise is the name of a visitor centre on Mt. Rainier. This also represents my best chance of winning a smart photo contest :-)

Horn*OK*Please

I have been staying away from India for the past five years. Distance provides a rare opportunity: objectivity. The opportunity to view your old surroundings with new eyes, an opportunity to feel shock & awe, amusement & enlightenment, epiphany & redemption. It would even make Heisenberg uncertain about his Uncertainty Principle. I grabbed the opportunity with both hands and came away richer.

There’s road travel in India and then there’s the rest of the world. My entire stay in India before going abroad was punctuated with padayatras, BEST (bus service in Bombay), trains, auto-rickshaws and the rare taxi ride. My parents didn’t have a car, I never felt the need to drive one, and consequently, I never quite understood and absorbed the mechanics of driving in India. Now, I am a convert, a compulsive driver who finds great comfort inside his Volkswagen Passat. In fact, this trip I was almost inclined to sit behind the steering wheel of any brave owner’s car in India to exercise the license that I got by learning the Maruti 800 at the Chauhan Motor Driving School. Three years of driving have given me a sixth sense I didn’t know existed.

Suddenly, I felt myself being aware of the way people drove in India. The maneuvers, the skills, the blasé attitude, the space utilization, the common sense, the lack of it. Expressways notwithstanding, the real roads in India crawl at a maximum speed of 20 km/hr, it is difficult to decide whether the brake is abused more than the clutch and lanes are a figment of someone alien’s imagination. Don’t get me wrong. I think this is what makes us unique. Our non-adherence to conformity, with a trace of respect. After all, people do still follow green/red lights (this is of course Mumbai, I can write a book on how people drive in Surat). Why fit one car in a lane, when two rickshaws, a bike, a bicycle and a beggar can fit in? Why restrict our imagination and ability when we can overtake from both left and right?

The greatest epiphany I had in this India trip was the Great Indian Horn. It is a phenomenon that hasn’t been given due attention. All these years I felt that people were just honking away in frustration at all times. How wrong was I? Of course, motorists honk away at signals anyway to fill up the time till the green light comes. Oh, the insecurity of it all. Sound fills up the time and space around the four corners. However, I am digressing. The horn serves a grander purpose. Let me explain.

People don’t follow lanes in India. You can enter on the left and exit on the right. You can glide gracefully from one corner to another like a 60’s Hindi film heroine. Of course, there is no such thing as looking into side and rear view mirrors. The entire side view is a blind spot, so that is not a concern either. The future holds surprises and so does the guy in front of you who may suddenly decide that he has rightist leanings and prefers the right edge of the road. How in that event can you let him know that you are going faster than him and will go past him in the next three seconds. Do you rely on him to check on you before he turns his steering wheel? Would you trust your life on a person who may be watching London, talking Tokyo? Of course not. This is India. It is obvious that you won’t survive by your wits alone. That is why you have the all-powerful weapon: the horn. Honk it hard and continuous and you will catch the driver’s attention. You have announced war. You have announced intent to overtake and he must bow before you. You are in the right lane, and it shall remain unoccupied for you to pass through like a victorious soldier. The horn, my friends is the shankha of Arjun, it is what Gimli blew in Helm’s deep, it is the trumpet with the sweetest of voices.

There’s more to the horn than meets the ear. Over the years, the horn has evolved so much. From the plain old monotone to the sounds of backing up (‘Jai Jagadeesh Hare’, ‘This car is backing up’) to the latest remixes that I came across, there is a while spectrum of melodies(?) one gets to hear on the road.

On a side note, I was paying attention to the labels people on the back of their rickshaws and taxis. Messages, kids’ names, source location of the vehicle are there for you to read. Horn*OK*Please, Amit and Naina, Jay Mata Di, Andheri, Ghatkopar etc. The corniest that I came across though was “Agar aap hamare aur kareeb aaenge to hum aapki puppy le lenge”. Eeeesh!!

One last point. The best drivers are the ones who honk the least. Try and observe that and let me know what you feel. Ok? Please?

Expectnation

The Jat lag has gone down a bit (oh sorry, am I offending someone?) and I can actually count ten fingers on someone else's hand. I am back! I got quite a few comments from people looking forward to reading about my India trip experience. That left me confused. Are people interested in my India trip or my India trip? How do I compose this post? How do I meet the burden of expectation? Ambivalent or AmbyValley? Safe or Saif? India or ExpectNation?

I am going to devote a few posts to my recent India trip, but here are bulleted highlights of some things that struck me

1. Money money money rules India
… like never before. Socialism has been buried for good by glitzy malls and cell phone owning vegetable owners. We are open for business, competition and the ilk. Middle class is moving up, upper class has more places to spend money, and the poor will feel the pinch like never before
2. Ka-Mall hi Ka-Mall hai
I visited the InOrbit mall in Bombay besides CitiMall and Infiniti close to my place. Clean spaces, working escalators, suited-buited guards, rich Gujarati house-wives, Ritu Kumar boutiques, food courts serving Rs. 40 popcorns, multiplexes, supermarkets, 2 for 1 deals … this place has everything. It was almost like being in the US except for the excess rush and lots of Indians. Of course, a ton of people were treating it like a tourist trip. Enjoy the air conditioning and do window shopping.
3. Rs.1000 is the new Rs.100
How often have you heard your father give you the ‘in my times, it used to cost 25 paise’ story? I think it is happening to me too. Everything is so costly now that a rupee is now redundant. I used to joke about what I would do with a 5 lakh salary in India now. I think to maintain a middle-class lifestyle with an upward drift, that kind of money would be necessary. A night a the movies, restaurant and café with your family will cost you a cool 1000.
4. Angrez chale gaye Andheri mein theatre chodd gaye
English movies meant a trip to the town for me. Andheri to Churchgate by compulsion and local train. The change brought a smile to my face. I saw Star Wars at a theatre 15 minutes walking distance from my house. Andheri was firmly the centre of Bombay for me. Now it is set in stone. I saw Star Wars and B&B in India with no other decent release and very little time on my hands. The theatres were Fun Republic and Fame Adlabs respectively. I was also mildly amused at them playing the national anthem before the movies. Were they playing it for this Non Reliable Indian?
5. From long ration lines to low necklines
Controversial topic, but I’ll broach it anyway. The necklines are plunging and the hemlines are rising. Does that explain the high temperatures in Bombay? Of course, my trip was largely limited to Lokhandwala which was always known for its hep-cat (that’s an expression I heard a few times on the trip) crowd. A prospect that would have been salivating a few years ago just ended up being mildly amusing for me given my years of stay in the US. I have no comments to make on it save the observation that there is a difference. Good, bad, radical, expected … that is a whole new debate.
6. Ek Mocha Aur De Do Thakur
This is a reuse of a blog title I had used a while back. While I visited the usual Baristas and CCD (Café Coffee Day for the uninitiated), the highlight was a trip to Café Mocha in Juhu. Sipping a Rs.200 milkshake with hookahs around me and the kids ‘chilling out’ made me uncomfortable at times. A gentle reminder that I never belonged here and the dollar conversion notwithstanding, I will never be at ease there. That might change over time, but somehow, this is a part of Bombay I was never familiar with.
7. Kyonki DD hi kabhi TV tha
I spent a lot of time surfing channels 1 through 97 on my parents’ archaic TV. Saw one episode each of Kyonki …, Jassi …, Koffee .., and a couple other serials and figured everything about the story. I cannot understand the Ekta Kapoor effect, but hey, I am just an NRI who doesn’t see too much Indian TV. Saw some Gujarati movies where the hero was the same (Naresh Kanodia), the heroine was the same (Snehalata) , the guy who played the father was the same, the comedian was the same and the stories too were almost similar. They were a riot. Of course, hated the remixes to the core, loved some of the new ads that have come and realized that news channels in India are almost as vacuous as those in the US
8. Well, what did I do this time?
Rock Beach, Vada Pav, Anupam samosas, road-side juices et al. I did get a chance to check it all out. The train journey to VT was fun and the day spent in town (Planet M to Gateway, Samrat to roadside DVD purchase) was great. Of course, since I was attending a couple of weddings, my food cravings were taken care off. Lots of lovely Indian food, no dishes to wash, no clothes to clean, no house to vacuum, what more does one need in life? Spent some quality time with my parents, enjoyed staying indoors in the oppressive heat and loved reading the Times of India print edition while my mom made coffee in the morning for me. Picked up Maximum City and some cheap print books at the traffic signal.
9. Regrets
Could not meet any friends other than Sushil (everyone was busy and couldn’t spare time on the one day that I had reserved for them ), could not go to my school or college, could not travel by BEST, could not spend more time with my grandfather, could not go to Surat to play cricket at my cousin’s reception (long story, fodder for another post), could not see my childhood photographs. However, regrets are good. They leave a reason for going back.

That about bulletizes my trip. I skimmed the surface, and the coffee beneath was hot. Bitter, sweet, pulsating. The India I know but can’t completely relate to. The India that I need to introduce myself to each time I go back. ExpectNation met my expectations to a large extent.

On my way back from Churchgate, I was trying to get down at Bandra station. Rendered immobile by the rush, I was trapped in between, limbs locked in the pack. As the station came, I disembarked, helped along by a push from the back, just in time to avoid the crowd that poured in. I had finally arrived in India.

The Bo-home-ian rhapsody

... or the feeling that comes with making a trip back home. Yes, I am going back to apna des, aamchi Mumbai, good old Andheri. Since the primary purpose is to attend a couple of weddings (unfortunately, the couple of couples didn't decouple the wedding and bad weather), this trip should provide me with opportunities to explore this rapidly progressing city of ours. Off multiplexes and high salaries and cafes and the ilk. Off the cell phone explosions and information technology and the kind. Off Indianised Subway and McDonalds and Pizza Huts. Off the sweet memories that I have off the place. Off that one marble slab in the front of my college that was my favorite spot. Off the three apartments that I lived in while I was there. Off the good looking girls that drew us out of our houses each evening. Off the vada-pavs and bhel-puris and the million other refreshments. Off my Mom's food. Off old friends and family. Off Rock Beach. Off everything that I once related to. Off life and love and the Maximum City.

My parents don't have a PC at home. That implies that I shall be very sporadic while frequenting the web. So, consider this an interregnum, a pause, an Alpa-veeram.

P.S> I leave day after tomorrow and will be gone for almost 3 weeks. Till then, take care, keep blogging and enjoy the weather (wherever it is enjoyable)

Off-key

When you are on a roll, you expect all things to go on track. After having purchased the house and having am impending trip that is guaranteed to be great, the intermediate weekend was setup to be a memorable one. Do you know how it feels to stand on the verge of a lifelong dream coming true? The thrill, the excitement, the anticipation. I experienced all three last weekend when my favorite ghazal singer was due to perform in Seattle. None other than Ghulam Ali.

Slight background. I was brought up on Ghulam Ali ghazals that my Dad loved. I had a huge collection of his recordings that would play regularly (this was before we woke up to TV being a 24-hour phenomenon) to the point that I knew each ghazal, each sher, each harkat intimately. Ghulam Ali was the reason I took interest in ghazals and Urdu per se. Ghulam Ali was the reason I sat on entire summer in Austin making a list of all the ghazals I knew, pryed out a list of words that I did not understand and diligently went through a Urdu-Hindi dictionary till I figured the meaning of each and every one of them. To me, he is the GOD of ghazal singing. His choice of ghazals, the semi-classical nature of his renditions, his ability to create a mood reflective of the ghazal is beyond eveyone else. Jagjit Singh is for the hoi-polloi and Mehndi Hassan is good without being great.

Hence, when I heard (about 3 months back) that Ghulam Ali was going to perform in Seattle, I was ready to bear Talat Aziz (you know, we are in the friendship phase and all that). I must have been one of the first to buy the tickets for the concert and was shaping up to enjoy the concert fully. Here’s in fact what transpired.

7.30: the concert was supposed to start. Nothing happened
7.45: people streaming in
8.00: still nothing
8.15: still nothing
8.30: Mr. K.P. Singh walks up to the stage to introduce the performers. Now, K.P. Singh is a ‘promoter’ (not the boxing kind, the guy brings these artistes over here) and he will have a great role to play as we move ahead in the evening
8.45: After a 15 minute introductory tirade and a song rendered by some local talent (yup, nothing short of a rock concert), Talat Aziz and Ghulam Ali come onto the stage
9.00: They launch into a ‘combined’ rendition of ‘Dil mein ek leher si’ and one of Talat’s ghazals. The idea being that both were in the same raag (don’t remember which one) and one was picking up from the other. The exercise came off as very lame. Ghazals need a mood to build on, this is not fodder for jugalbandi.
9.30: After one more ghazal combo which included ‘Chupke Chupke’ (how can you!!!!!!), Mr. K.P. Singh saunters onto the stage fully aware that an hour of the concert has been lost and that we should make up for lost time. So, what does he do? The artistes honoring ceremony starts. For each artiste, this is a the sequence of events
-- Singh announces the name and says 2 lines about him
-- Singh then asks another ‘promoter’ to come up and give a token. He says about 15 lines about the promoter and how he has come all the way from Las Vegas
-- Promoter comes up on stage and gets one photograph with the artiste after he has given the memento
-- This goes on for all artistes. In the middle of all this were also the reading of a plaque that was awarded to Ghulam Ali and Talat Aziz by the governor of Illinois and another for K.P. Singh
It was sickening to see these people saunter in at their own speed, come up with the sole intention of a photograph with the singers
10.00: After 30 minutes of this nonsense, Talat Aziz starts his solo performance. He surprised me, since I had no expectations whatsoever. He at least tried to create a semblance of an atmosphere.
10.45: 45 minutes of Talat Aziz later, the stage was set for the maestro. The expectations were heightened even though it came with the painful knowledge that we were over an hour behind schedule and that would mean that he would be singing lesser than expected. He came on stage and sang a Punjabi song. Fair enough. I have heard several of his Punjabi songs on tapes. Maybe that’s what the audience wants. Ok, first song up. Now lets hear something nice. What followed next? Another Punjabi song, and another and another. The first 20 minutes of the precious time was lost to Punjabi songs and not without reason. The audience was never meant for ghazal enthusiasts. This was meant for middle aged Punjabi men (both Indian and Pakistani). What followed made me almost get up and walk out in frustration. Ghazals on steroids is the only way to describe it. The audience shouted out 8-9 of his most famous songs and he sang them without a break like a sword was hanging on his head. Not one ghazal was sung properly, not one song entered my heart. It was a waste of $25 and the breaking of a dream. I was taken for granted and taken for a ride. Yes, he is Ghulam Ali, but that does not allow him to rest on his laurels. You are here to perform to your capacity, not be a pale shadow of yourself.
11.20: 35 minutes of Ghulam Ali later, Talat Aziz joined him for a finale. I waited politely till they finished singing and walked out with a lot of anger in my heart.

Moral of the story. I am going to stay away from the concerts of these big guys. For most of these guys, US trips are money-making enterprise where the desperate and illiterate NRI audience can lap up whatever they dish. (Jagjit Singh sang bhangra in his ghazal concert last year, by the way). It wouldn’t have mattered so much had it not been Ghulam Ali. Oh well, c’est la vie!

Dis-oriented and Dis-occidented

We changed offices over the weekend and I am still getting used to turning west instead of east when I enter my main lobby to get to my new office (hence the blog title). Disorientation is the theme for this morning. Not feeling a 100%, not thinking a 100% either. Need to get some important work done before a meeting in the next three hours. I don't hate Mondays, but hate not feeling well on Mondays for sure. After having gulped down three cups of coffee since morning, there isn't much else caffeine is going to do for me. Music's my last ditch attempt to feel good. Tuning into Parineeta right now. A remake of the timeless classic story of eminent writer Sharat Chandra Chattopadhyay, I don't know enough about the movie yet to hedge my bets on which way this will go. My mind is awake enough for this piece of trivia: this is the 3rd remake of the movie (most think its the second). The first starred Ashok Kumar and Meena Kumari while the second starred Jeetendra and Sulakshana Pandit. The odd thing is that I don't recollect any numbers from the Ashok Kumar movie. Perhaps they didn't have anything superlative (or perhaps I have never heard them at all). Alright enough. I should get working again. I am cluttering my blog with mindless posts. Need to avoid that. Later.

Its Freeday today

It is a Friday and I am home because we got the day off. It is hard to describe the gleeful sadistic feeling one gets when one sits on the balcony and watches office-goers heading to work aiming to survive the day and see it through the wekeend. In Bombay, the monsoons would always guarantee a day or two off in the early two months of school. As a kid, I would look forward to that. I would with a surge of excitement follow the rains through the evening when the heavens would pour down. When time came to go to bed, I would secretly wish that the rains would continue steadily, and when I opened my eyes in the morning, I would ask my father if it had been raining all night. Ah, those times.
The pleasures of an Extra holiday, that which was not promised, not indicated, simply afforded by a quirk in the normal sequence of events makes for added happiness. As I sit here and enjoy the classic 'Snatch' having caught glimpses of a Gujarati movie for a while earlier on and enjoyed an extra cup of coffee with good breakfast to boot, I see the day progressing nicely. Of course, I couldn't resist checking my office e-mail through this morning, but that's something I do even on weekends. To cap it off, I'll be watching Kaal in the theatres tonight.

Currently watching : Snatch, Tango Charlie, Born on the 4th of July, Twisted
Currently reading : Nothing, and I want to change that
Currently listening: Kaal, Bunty and Bubli, The Best of Shakti

Dekha ek khwaab to

Select images from the annual tulip festival in Seattle



Amsterdam in Seattle? 


Pretty and Pinkie (this is for Bollywood buffs, remember the Piya Piya singers?) 


Say cheese 


I don't need to caption every photo, do I? 


Sunshine in petals 


Door tak nigaah mein tulip khile hue 


Up close and personal 


Wonder where I can find 'Airfood'? 

Byline - The Post!

Back to Bollywood, and a comment on the 'Byline' craze that has hit Hindi film-makers for quite sometime. As if we would not understand the meaning of the film's title if it is in Hindi, they attach a byline: the English translation of the title. Hold your guns though, it may not even be an exact translation, just a phrase that might mean something similar but gives a 'so-called' punch to the title. If any of you can add to the list, I'd love to hear it.

Literal Translations
Kagaar - The Edge
Hatya - The Murder
Mudda - The Issue
Jaal - The Trap
Aaghaaz - The Beginning
Bawandar - The storm
Shart - The challenge
Tezaab - The acid of love
Lakeer - Forbidden lines
Talaash - The hunt begins
Daag - The Fire (this one intrigued me the most, but Raj Kanwar's interview saved it for me. This was supposed to be Daagan the Punjabi word for fire but got reduced to Daag)

Punchlines
Baaz - A Bird in Danger
Shikaar - The musical thriller
Chupa Rustam - A musical thriller
Hatyaar - Face to face with reality
Dhaal - The battle of love against law
Taarzan - The wonder car
Jumbish - A movement - the movie
Fun - Can be dangerous sometimes
Rakht - What If You Can See the Future
Lucky - No time for love
Classic - Dance of love
Ek Rishta - The bond of love
Tezaab - A violent love story
Parinda - A violent love story
Darr - A violent love story

Word play

Look Ma, I split an
At
Om

I free my mind de-liberate-ly

I make the light bow before the rain ........ seven times over

My achievements are CAPITAL

I can bend a sentence
------------------------- at
edges its

I CcOrNeSaUtMeE what I

The circle is my full world, I preside at the center, while the world comes a full circle

Is it me playing with the words or are the words playing me?

The August English

People who have been reading this blog regularly know by now that my blog titles are far more interesting than my posts themselves :-) This time, its no different. I thought of the title, did a little jig in my mind that went something like 'Smart title Parth, keep it up' followed by a few grins.

Now that I have indeed given a title, why not write something related to it? About what you say? Of course, our August English, the royals, our past mai-baaps, and the world's current fascination. Prince Charles is getting married to Camilla Parker Bowles. Now that's a love story. Prince has fairy-tale wedding, prince sires two sons, prince loses interest in princess, prince has an affair, princess has multiple affairs, princess dies in car crash, prince is widowered, prince wins public sympathy, prince defies mom's wishes, prince fixes a date to get married, prince postpones wedding because the Pope dies, prince should be collecting the souvenirs from the cancelled wedding because people are rushing to do so, prince will eventually wed tomorrow.

That's a Bollywood potboiler right there (in fact the upcoming movie 'Ada - Will Kill U' is loosely based on this theory). My problem however is with the relevance of the completely irrelevant monarchy in the current world. What have they done to deserve this importance? What purpose do they serve other than sit on prime real estate property and confer obselete titles like KBE and OBE? (I'd take Obi-Wan over Obe-Wan anyday). The media hype always surrounds them. Wonder what craze are the media feeding? Is it true that ordinary people need royalty to look up to?

What I find worse is the attitude of Indians towards them. They want to thank them for having ruled us, for having taught us English(Let me know what you think, I have seen people my age say the above on more than one occassion). Thank them? Why not thank them for looting trillions of dollars worth of riches systematically over the years? With that logic, shouldn't we be cursing those who drove them away?

The new monarchy are the people among us who make it big by virtue of their work and intelligence. The Bill Gates and Ambanis of the world. The Tendulkars and the Woods. The house of Saxons or Windsors or whatever they are called should be relegated to the back pages once and for all.

Enough venting for the day. Saw the disastrous 'Ring 2' over the weekend. Do not spend your money on it. On the bright side, I saw 'My Brother Nikhil'. A well made movie with tons of holes in the script. Still, the handling of the topic of an AIDS patient in Goa in the 80s is very good. Here's my music recommendation for the day : Lekin The brilliance of the Mangeshkars and Gulzar on full display. The national awards were well-deserved.

Miscelooney

End of a tiring day capped off with a meeting that lasted an hour and a half!!! By the time the meeting ends, you are wondering what you met to discuss :-)

I find writing for the blog a nice release, except that most occassions there is hardly anything substantial to pour out. Meditative, vegetative, same difference! So, here are some brain dead reflections

1. Yesterday, I saw a hailstorm for the first time in my life. Big pellets of snow racing each other in a hurry to reach the ground and perish. Beautiful beautiful sight. Amidst this splendor was a singular thought: I am so glad my car is parked underground. This, from a guy who thought that sitting on a beach and watching the waves is a thing that can be done till the end of time! The world forces you to grow up, doesn't it? :-)

2. Two contrasting music releases. Taj Mahal and Kaal. Taj Mahal marks the return of the grand-daddy of Indian music composers. Naushad. In the 50s-70s, there was no other who could match his exploration of Indian classical music when composing film music. Mughal-E-Azam, Baiju Bawra, Dil Diya Dard Liya, Mere Mehboob, the list is endless. Easily one of my favorite composers off all time. I was super-keenly awaiting the release of Taj Mahal's music for this sole reason. What't my take on it? Naushad has not sold his soul (like he did in Guddu) for this movie. He has tried to keep the essence of his music alive (with modern day orchestrations). The songs are really good and grow on you. I would say that the music will be enjoyed by lovers of Naushad's music, but can't guarantee the same for everyone. The songs are great by today's standard, but I don't find them matching up to Naushad's earlier work. Hariharan is good while seeing Preeti Uttam as a lead female singer made me pull my hair out in frustration. Please try to enjoy the songs despite her. Kaal on the other hand is a smart producer at work. Karan Johar is going with the times and coming up with a movie that is different from his usual work and the music is going with it (SRK is the co-producer). The songs are composed by Salim-Suleiman, the whizkids who are the current kings of giving background music(Bhoot etc) The songs are fast paced and at go with the mood of the movie. You will enjoy Nassa Nassa and Tauba Tauba (what's with repeating the same word twice? :-))

3. My cricket team has reached the semi-finals of the B league this time. One win and we will be onto the A league. Terrific performance this time, winning 5 out of the 7 matches. In fact, I got to captain the team on one occassion. The match is on Sunday. Let's hope it works out for us.

4. I went to this shopping complex called Globus in Bandra last year in Bombay. This is a multi storey shop with some theatres at the top. I saw 'Ek Hasina Thi'. That movie has a scene filmed, guess where, in Globus. I was watching 'Socha Na Tha' last night (light hearted comedy, watchable) and was surprised to see another scene shot in Globus

5. I seem to blog every 4 days on an average. If my blogs are shorter, the frequency of my posts increases.

India loses test series

The actual headline today morning was ‘Pakistan square test series’. To me, they are both equivalent. This is a shame, a national disgrace. A relatively inexperienced bowling attack like Pakistan’s ran through a ‘strong’ Indian batting lineup on a docile pitch on the final day of a test match. How come it happens to us? How do we let it happen to us? Until last year, we were anointed Contenders to Australia. Indeed, had we won this series 2-0, we would have also been listed as number 2 in the ICC test rankings. But contenders do not grovel like this, they register victories (a draw in this test match would have been akin to a win). We are Pretenders at best.

Look at the way the series went. We let Pakistan draw the first test match even though there were only four wickets to take on the last day of the match, somehow managed to register a win in the second test and were wholesomely humiliated in the third test. Sehwag and Dravid notwithstanding, the other batsman did not get going. Pathan was woefully out of form, and the other bowlers were good in patches.

I don’t personally care about the one-day matches. For me, the charm and importance is reserved for tests. In all probability, we might end up drawing the one-day series 3-3 as well. I feel angry and cheated by a team that shows promise and doesn’t live up to it.

There will be some fallouts of this test series. The test career of VVS Laxman will end. Ironical as it may be, the duo of John Wright and Ganguly will make way for the next coach and captain at the same time. Ganguly has done some great things for the team, but has outlived his nine lives. Of course, these are simply my predictions, and a lot may be forgotten if we do really well in the one-day series. That is how our selectors function anyway. In the meanwhile, I’ll wait, watch and expect better from my favorite cricket team in this whole wide world!

Featured, Flattered, Honored

http://indibloggers.blogspot.com/ featured me as Blog of the day for today. Its unexpected, pleasant and surprising. Thank you.


Hey, the page will change tomorrow!

The best condolence letter ever

True story from 5th grade at school. Our English teacher Mrs. Prabha Nair asked the class to write a letter of condolence to a friend who has lost his father. Here's what one of the geniuses in the class came up with

I am sorry that you have lost your father. I hope the police will help you find him

Touche'

The names people play

Here's a list of some interesting names on my MSN Messenger contact list (an example of an uninteresting messenger name being Parth). I am glad that people I know are more creative than I am. Ya, its that kind of a patch in my blogging journey.

Eternal sunshine of the clueless mind
Well Poised (hang-over from the 4th evening of the test match)
Dazzled by Reality
i hate 2 b dependent on others but human is a social animal
A-Bee-Shrek
~~Rho Rho Rho your boat! ~~
Altruisan
First thinks last
Living on a prayer
LN proves his MITTAL in Steel
The Dude Abides
The times, they are a-changing
Zephyr

Enough said

Time for some pictures. These are from my weekend hike to Snow Lake, WA near the Snoqualmie Pass. The trek was of moderate intensity and was 2.5 miles one way. What awaited us at the end was the grand view of the lake that my camera is well short of capturing. I hope to have better pictures of my hikes henceforth. Till then, enjoy the view.


View from the base of the trek

Some more mountains on the way

Sparse snow creates good contrast


Prize view at the end of the trek -> The entire lake was frozen!

Gymophobia

I took extra care to spell the blog title correctly. Gymnophobia is fear of nudity. Of course, that too surfaces depending on whom I am looking at!! I am referring to a fear of another kind. Its the place they call a gymnasium(from Greek gymnasion from gymnazein to exercise naked - weird, huh?).

I remember my first time. The rites of passage. Avinash, Sachin and Sushil had enrolled and I followed suit. Getting up at 6 to go and stretch my legs and pull a heavy piece of metal up and down 20 times was barely going to register as a favorite activity for me. The first day I was through with my exercises, I had trouble climbing a few stairs. However, at the time, the effort was aimed at a higher purpose. The sole motivating factor for going to the gym was to obtain a physique and impress girls as a result. Arnold Shivajinagar and Sly Stallone were role models, flexing my arms in front of a mirror was a thrice-a-day exercise and an unmistakable swagger set in to reflect my new found confidence. That was the time to gloat over gaining a couple of kilograms of weight, a tiny bulge in my biceps and adding the new expression to my vocabulary ‘I work out’. Then, the boredom set in. The ratio of time spent to gains achieved dwindled and the act of doing the same set of exercises over and over again got to me. Having paid 6 months worth of my father’s hard earned money, I at least ensured that half of it was well utilized. In the end, I quit after three months.

Cut to the interregnum. While my muscled friends muscled their way to pot-bellies and love handles over the years, I stuck to my flat-stomached non-muscular lean existence. I spent my time picking up and getting better at table tennis, badminton, cricket etc. I ate what I pleased, and it seemed to have no effect on me. Hanging out of trains and buses in Bombay was exercise enough. And I walked. Boy, I walked.

Cut to the present. The moment I started my sedentary work life, the pot belly appeared, I started feeling stuffed every time I ate, and a 3 hour cricket match made me huff and puff. I realized that perhaps being 26 is not the same as being 20. My job provides a few perks, including membership to a rather expensive sports club. I figured it was time to cash in. After several years, I finally ventured towards the exercise machines again. Things, as learnt quickly had changed. First, there was the ‘co-ed’ setup, unlike the gym I went to India. As a 15 year old kid, I used to feel like a dwarf among the big boys. Now, people of all shapes and sizes and sexes were panting and sweating in unison. Secondly, there was now a wide array of equipment to choose from. Treadmills, ellipticals, gravitron, steppers, you name it. I didn’t even have to lift a dumbbell and still feel drained out at the end of a session. With that also came the realization that the world was never meant to be for equals. There are the bawdy-builders, people whose bodies are more rotund than linear, enough love handles to hang onto if you are sinking, and enough weight to test the weight machines to the limit. On the other hand, there are the body-builders. They still make me feel like a dwarf. And then of course, there are the women. The ones in perfect shape dress up less than adequately to accentuate that. Are they mocking the rest of the ‘normally shaped’ men and women? Is this a media-fed image that they are attempting to confirm to? Do I really care? Hell, no. In the middle of all this, there’s me. Working out twice a week in a slightly purposeless quest. Sometimes, the Jacuzzi and the steam room seem to be the best reasons for going there.

I am probably not being fair on anyone who does go to gym for honest purposes. By nature, I hate the concept of running in one place for 20 minutes. Give me a competitive sport, any one of them, and I’ll jump right in. However, circumstances dictate that I can’t do that on a regular basis. Anyway, got to speed up work. I have to leave work a little early this evening. Any guesses where I am heading towards?

Currently reading: The rule of four by Ian Caldwell and Dustin Thomason
Currently watching: American Wedding, Pulp Fiction
Currently listening: Mirza Ghalib by various artists
Current frustration: Inability to watch the Ind-Pak cricket series

The Rescue

Words drift closer
as worlds drift away
stringing phrases together
as relationships untwine

I construct a poem
as feelings deconstruct
I scramble my memories
as the images disperse

I salvage the past
from its present imperfection

Bride and Prejudice Redux

I wrote a piece on Bride and Prejudice when the movie released in India and UK. At that point in time, I had no clue on how the movie was going to turn out. My analysis was solely based on the reports that I had read on websites and a few trailors that I saw. Yesterday, I had a chance to catch the movie at an art-house cinema hall, the Egyptian theatre. Turns out my guess about it being a moderate critical and commercial success was bang on (Pat my back :-))

So, what did I think of the movie? It was actually enjoyable. Since most people are familiar with the story, I am just going to point out the pros and the cons.

Pros:
1. Seamless integration of a Bollywood concept into a Hollywood movie. You don't notice the song and dance too much.
2. English movie with Indian actors, but it never appears ackward.
3. Lush with colors, shifting locations from Amritsar to London to LA helps.
4. Nikhil Ganatra as Kholi (ya, that's how they spell it in the movie) is terrific as the settled NRI shopping for a bride in India.
5. You should see how each character in Bride and Prejudice has been given an equivalent name. If you remember the book, you'll make the connection. For exampl, the two balls in the book are replaced by dandiya and bhangra. Smart, huh?
6. Aishwarya Rai looks really good on screen

Cons:
1. Aishwarya Rai looks really good on screen. She can't act though. All points in my Ash rant make it worse to enjoy here.
2. Martin Henderson should be a Dudley, not a Darcy. Zero personality. I winced in pain as I watch him fumble a part that Laurence Olivier and Colin Firth have excelled in.
3. Music is a letdown. Barring a couple of hummable numbers, Anu Malik missed a golden chance
4. Story lacks pace in the middle portions. Could have been spruced up.

All important question. Is it a successful crossover attempt? I'd say 3.25/5. Yes, it has the right idea. I sat in a theatre where only 4-5 people were Indians. The rest were largely white Americans, and I could see them enjoy the movie in parts. I think the accents take time getting used to, the song lyrics are indecipherable, and the loud characters are not easy to identify with. But the humor was something they connected to, there were no grunts when the songs came on, and I heard some really positive comments in the hallway when we were exiting.

Did I enjoy the movie? Yes. Check out the reverential nod to Bollywood when they stroll on the Santa Monica beach with gospel groups and Baywatch babes singing 'Show them to love'. It was hilarious. If you are an NRI like me, you'll 'get' most of the Kholi jokes and trust me, they are funny.Gurinder Chadha does not deride Bollywood, but does caricaturize Indians at time in the movie. There is not much brain, not as much wit as the original book. But this is the 21st century anyway, right?

This is not a Bend it like Beckham because it was never meant to be one. I'd recommend that you watch this movie once. Don't expect too much and thou shall come out pleasantly surprised as I was.

Post Script:
This is NOT a movie blog. I should remind myself of this every morning. Namesake is terrific so far and I did not get a chance to see Cold Mountain. Next week, I am off to my alma mater: Texas A&M University, College Station to give a, ahem, lecture to the Computer Science Honors Society. Of course, Avinash is still there, so that is motivation enough to put together some powerpoint slides and talk incessentlty for an hour or so.

Cornycopia

Angels with arrows, large hearts, large chocolates shaped as hearts, red roses, orange roses (welcome to the genetic world), white roses, panicky boyfriends, perspiring husbands et al. The day is here. I saw the rise of the Valentine in India. The neighbourhood Archie's went from having a bunch of cards to putting huge cut-outs and tons of extra racks of cards outside their shop. You were bombarded with songs like 'Valentines day ke din main keh doon ankahi'. Corny with a capital K. Puppy love, yuppy love, mismashed into this consumerist exposition of affection. In fact, this whole 'imported' concept of 'days' is funny. Our outpouring of patriotic feelings seems to be limited to two days a year. Does the same concept apply here? Can you get romantic and flowery and chocolaty one day a year and be your normal grumpy, remote-turning, chip-munching self for the remainder? Apparently not. Then, why single out this day and make it harder for the poor souls. It gets worse with the other 'days'. With a day associated with each member of the family, it seems to be a scam purported by Hallmark to increase it sales, and stuffed down the throats of gullible Indians who'd be more than happy to adopt any Western traditions, given we don't have any of our own!

Rants aside, let me announce that we have got Lucky. Literally, the best music of the year so far has come through. Adnan Sami has scored the music for this Sallu movie called 'Lucky' with an Ash-lookalike 19 year old National College Bandra student. Five songs to absolutely check out if you like melody and have enjoyed his solos thus far.

1. Jaan Meri Ja Rahi Sanam (Anuradha Paudwal, Udit Narayan)
Refreshing melody, reminds me of some songs from Sahibaan.

2. Sun Zara (Sonu Nigam)
Composed by Adnan for himself, sung by Sonu. Good rendition.

3. Shayed Yahi To Pyar Hai (Lata Mangeshkar, Adnan Sami)
Class all over. Lata shines in this beautiful composition.

4. Chori Chori(Alka Yagnik, Sonu Nigam)
Not exceptional, but I like the beats

5. Lucky Lips(Asha Bhosle)
Very 80's rhythm. Asha rescues this from being a corny song to a terrific foot-tapper

While on the topic of Bollywood (my blog seems to be receding into becoming a blog exclusively dealing with Hindi movies), I saw the nominations from Filmfare this year. Wonder what set of dimwits work over there. Here's the list and here are the goof-ups. I read the nomination list before I read the other article and I thought I was looking at misprints till I read the analysis. These awards used to be an institution (not without their share of controversies, yet they did ok most of the times), but they are turning out to be a joke. I don't think we have even a single set of awards that are genuinely good in India. You might say National awards, but when Shobhana shares the award for her work in 'Mitr' with Tabu from 'Chandani Bar', you have to wonder.

Currently watching: House of sand and fog, Cold Mountain, Mystic River, Good Will Hunting
Currently reading : Digital Fortress, Namesake

'Aish'a bhi hota hai

I tried hard to resist. I thought of avoiding the cliched path. I thought this topic is best left buried. But I read about one more American TV appearance of Aishwarya Rai, and I knew that I had to write about it.

What's with this Aishwarya mania? I really don't get it. Agreed, she is considered undisputably beautiful in India. It is also understood that she has zero selling power at the box office by herself. She really hasn't had any hits beyond the Bhansali camp and the odd Taal and Mohabbatein here and there. I am one of her fans, but only of her looks. I'd like to reiterate that Aishwarya Rai in a saree is God's gift to mankind (pun intended). But really, she isn't paid the kind of obeisance in India as she is being paid abroad right now. When she made it to the jury of Cannes, that was a shocker. She has no body of work to talk about (neither did Meg Ryan, but at least she had Harry and Sally :-))

Is it because she looks beautiful and is urbane enough for the Western audiences? This is the age of Asia, say the Western TV executives. Let's promote people from India. Whom do we promote? Who is looking westward? Who can actually speak English? Lo and behold. There's the beauty queen from India. Why not call her over? Time Asia called her the Face of Bollywood (the crappiest article on Bollywood possible). On all Western shows, she is repeatedly called the most successful actress in India. Hello?

Then came the appearance on 60 minutes. For years, she has been accused of being fake, a plastic beauty. Well, she reiterated it on the show. Look at how she plays the slighted diva when she says the best compliment someone ever paid her was that she looks real!!! What's with all the giggling? You can see the obvious effort to appear smart. Oh, by the way, you can watch the appearance here. I also saw her appearance on David Letterman. She was irritating even more than on CBS. I guess she was trying to pander to the Nascar/NFL crowd, unlike people who watch 60 minutes. And what's the big deal about her doing a kissing scene? It has now become an international issue.

Alright, enough of the criticism. Here are some positives. I like the fact that she tries to sell India, and is a defensive mode when the interviewers feign ignorance about the country. I like the fact that she has been bold enough to think beyond the borders of India and is thinking of true international stardom. I guess I am just jealous that we might lose our beauty queen to the decadent western powers :-) I like the fact that she still looks a million bucks!

When I started the post, I mentioned another TV appearance, right? Here's the breaking news: she might appear on Oprah.

Black Magic

I caught the most anticipated movie of 2005, first day first show. For days, the poster of Black on my desktop was a testament to my excitement. There were several reasons to be have high expectations. I like Bhansali's work, despite the fact that most critics pan his movies. I was very happy that Amitabh was finally working with a class director after working with any and every director last year. This was a different genre that Bhansali was tackling, and it seemed exciting to me that a mainstream director worked with a mainstream superstar to make a movie that was anything but mainstream.

So what is Black all about? Black tells the story of Michelle McNally (Rani Mukherji), who is born to an Anglo-Indian family, deaf-blind after an illness at the age of eighteen months, is a bright, intelligent girl who lives in a world of black silence with no way of reaching out. Enter Debraj Sahai. An eccentric man, an alcoholic, a person consumed by his profession of being a teacher to the deaf-blind. The story revolves around how Debraj suceeds in helping Michelle connect to the outside world, to search for light through the darkness around her. He teaches her words and their meanings, and helps her make sense of the darkness that engulfs her. The movie is about her incredible struggle to earn respect among the 'normal' world. She and her teacher work through several hardships to get her close to the goal of graduating from a university with normal students. But as they work towards it, Debraj starts to suffer from Alzheimer's disease. He slowly forgets everything including all words and their meanings. The roles are now reversed! Can she achieve the miracle that he once performed for her? Will she achieve her goal and wear the black graduation robes?

A movie inspired by Hellen Keller, Black is vastly different from anything seen on this scale in Indian cinema. I hesitate to call it a Hindi film, because large portions of it have English dialogues. Is it an attempt at crossover cinema? I don't know, and I can't answer that question confidently after watching the movie. What is consistent are Bhansali's sense of melodrama, the extraction of great performances, touches of brilliance in his direction and an assertion that he is amongst the finest film-makers this country has at the moment. Is Black truly a great film? I don't think so. It falls a few degrees short of being one. Is it brilliant? At times, hell yes. Does it set a new standard in Indian cinema. Definitely. Should you watch it? Please do, and please do so in a theatre. Here are the pros and cons of Black

Pros:
1. The performances. Ayesha Kapoor, Rani Mukherjee and Amitabh give excellent performance. There are moments of brilliance from the actors. For eg. the scene when Amitabh first shows signs of Alzhiemer gave me the chills. We take the brilliance of the man for granted. The kid Ayesha as the young Michelle is superb, and Rani gives a mind-blowing performance.
2. The cinematography is outstanding. Ravi K. Chandran has created an aura of blackness to perfection.
3. Background score by Monty adds to the effect of the movie
4. Bhansali. The director's special touches are evident all throughout.

Cons:
1. The screenplay is a letdown. The selection of moments of struggle in the protagonist's journey could have been picked better. Somehow, the pace of the movie in the second half is uneven
2. Half the movie is in English, which excludes a lot of Indian audiences
3. The protagonist's triumph does not make you feel exulted as you expect to
4. The 'sex' aspect is ok to tackle, but could have been tackled better
5. This is a 'heavy' movie. It has little relief for the running length of two hours, which again, most impatient audiences find difficult to sustain.

I would be interested in seeing people who are dissatisfied with the regular Bollywood fare (hint hint, Avinash) to please see this and give me their unprejudiced opinion. It is an intelligent movie with good performances from a talented director. Black worked its magic for me, hope it does so for you too.

Sania Mania

I am a little late on the post. I wanted to sing my encomiums after watching Sania Mirza battle Serena live and late into the night. It was after a long time that I found myself rooting for an Indian tennis player. There were days when Leander produced absolute magic in his Davis cup matches. A player, who would lose most of his singles matches on any given days, went on to beat the best (including Ivanisevic) in Davis cup matches, almost spurred on by some invisible strength. As a kid, I followed the adventures of Leander Paes and Ramesh Krishnan on the Davis cup courts. There was a lull after that till Bhupathi came into the picture and the Indian express gained steam. It felt like we finally got a pair of world-beaters. And then came the split. I must admit that barring the odd occasion (the quarter-final loss in the Olympics), I had almost given up on Indian tennis.

There are two different challenges that sport offers. One being team games like cricket, where you may fail on a day but others might cover for you, while you may have to take upon yourself the burden of weaker team-mates (as la Sachin). Individual sports however are tougher. There is no one else to rely on, no one to shoulder your load, none to blame if you fail. That's what makes them so lucrative. Glory is not shared, it is yours and yours alone. That is why it is so frustrating to see Vishwanathan Anand do so well, and yet, not be the best. It is so sad to not see us getting any medals in athletics. For the cricket fanatic that I am, I miss rooting for other Indian sporting heroes.

Enter the country's latest pin-up girl, Sania Mirza. I had read a lot about her in the run-up to the Australian and after her first two victories. Yet, I wasn't expecting any great shakes, primarily because she was pitted against Serena. However, it turned out to be a good match to watch. I was very impressed by her attitude on court, and the aggression she showed in the second set. The condescending and mis-reportage by the Amerian commentators made me root for her even more. It was painful listening to Pam Shriver go 'Indian women are not allowed to play tennis'. Hello? You have this other commentator going 'She was born in the city of Bombay, formerly known as Chennai and now stays in Hyderabad' (she is a Hyderabad born girl in actuality who stays in Mumbai). Even though she lost the match, she put up a susbtantial fight in the second set and actually made Serena sweat.

Of course, she hasn't actually won anything substantial in the professional circuit, and if she doesn't improve he strength and fitness, might disappear faster than you can spell Kournikova. For the moment though, I am happy for her success. Her post-match interviews also bring her forth as a lass with class and some brains. Of course, the fact that she is a Sachin fan gets her extra points in my book :-)

Enough of the Sania chaalisa. I sincerely hope she lives up to her promise and becomes a sporting star in India for all the right reasons. If she does well in subsequent grand slams, I am sure to catch her matches. Go, Sania, Go!!