Mode C

Kabhi hum kaminey nikle, kabhi doosre kaminey

Tue, 18 Aug 2009 06:40:56 GMT

Main 'fa' ko 'fa' bolta hoon
Abe 'fa' ko 'fa' nahi to kya 'la' bolega

and it goes...Dhan ta nan. One of the most anticipated talked-about and hyped movies of the year, Kaminey does not disappoint, not in the least. In spite of the overwhelming majority coming out in fully voiced approval of the film, there is always the lurking doubt in one's mind as one watches the scenes unfold. Will it live up to the expectations built by such strong feedback coming in from almost all quarters? Is it another case of might becoming right and people following the herd and talking in a certain manner just because everyone else is? Will all the talk about getting your brains along for the movie and respecting viewers' intelligence be just a carefully orchestrated PR strategy? Is there really path-breaking, cult-forming cinematic excellence at display?

It may not perhaps be said that Vishal Bhardwaj's effort is perfect but it is as close to it in today's times as it can be. Building up the story and all the while challenging the viewer to continually think, interpret situations and get the hang of the story a la Johny Gaddar or DevD, Kaminey seems to have vowed to not let the viewer slip into mental slumber. All events of import post the interval are linked to stuff that is not explained by dumbing it down but more so in passing reference, by just displaying events as they take place with the freedom given to the viewer to form whatever conclusions she wishes to form.

The thread of the story is not lost anywhere what with the careful plot construction that takes place, involving all characters in a blitzkrieg of slides in the lives of the twins, Charlie and Guddu. There are a lot of characters intertwined with these two and the beauty of the movie lies in the finesse with which each one of these supposedly ancillary characters are sketched out. You can not help but wonder at the ingenuity with which the screen comes alive upon each appearance of the Maharasthtrian-speak politician of Amole Gupte, the fiery Marathi mulgi of Priyanka Chopra, the cocaine-addicted whacko gangster of Chandan Roy Sanyal, even the bit characters of corrupt narcotics cops and other gangsters (some of them even imported from Africa).

Vishal Bhardwaj, it will suffice to say, has done it again. Not only has he done an extremely fine job in directing a motley crew of relative newbies to the formulaic Bollywood, he has also worked wonders with the more established cast of Shahid and Priyanka. Shahid delivers on the front foot in his twin role with the two brothers actually coming across as being as different as chalk and cheese. The beefy, catcall-inducing gangster is innocently devilish while the stammering simpleton comes across as the eyes-averted, mentally slow and introverted idealist.

Priyanka Chopra does a fine act as the fiery and gutsy modern-yet-traditional belle who can lie through her teeth, plan much before she gets to act, and even shoot at her brother (in clear deviation from the standard Bollywood lore...even though the gun was out of bullets when she shot it, she did shoot) as long as the end is clear and worthy. Not too much to look at sans her made up and glammed avatar, she still comes across as an actress who is taking leaps and bounds to the grease paint.

As mentioned earlier, each of the other actors in the movie deserve special mention for the way they have, under Vishal's able direction, of course, brought alive the various characters of the movie. Gupte, Sanyal and Co., take a bow!

To top it all, the music of the movie really fits the folds almost seamlessly. Whether it is playing in the background to add to the excitement of chase sequences, or in the foreground in all its psychedelic glory, "Dhan ta nan" rocks...and so does the rest of the musical score re-emphasizing the multi-talented genius of Vishal Bhardwaj. Even the placement of the timeless classic "Duniya me logo ko dhoka kabhi�" is spot on. Consider innocuous songs like phataak, or the one accompanying the celebratory bridal participation in what is supposed to be the groom's baraat, nothing seems to be even an inch adrift.

The story line of Kaminey may admittedly be slightly thin and oft repeated in the Mumbai (or is it Bambai) film industry (identical twins caught up in each other's lives) but it is the treatment that gets this movie up to the tops. It is the small nuances that tease the viewer to apply her mind, to decide for herself if the movie is up to her standard or vice versa. What makes this one special is the pun in showing an auto rickshaw with its clearly displayed meter reading "For Hire" as the corrupt cop is shot down. What works for this movie is the immensely humorous jab in the bad-guy Shahid replying to the plea of the good-guy Shahid of his wife being pregnant by asking him tongue-in-cheek, "to kya meri kokh ("coke") ujaadega?"

Update long due

Thu, 30 Jul 2009 08:08:58 GMT
It's been ages since I last wrote and this time, there are no excuses. I just did not feel like writing. Every time I came to see the blog, I felt like updating it but never managed to gather enough verve to actually sit and write something. Not that there was a dearth of things to write about...quite to the contrary, actually. Not only from a strict news point of you, but even from the emotions and sentiments ruling my life, there were so many things I should have recorded but I did not. Well, better late than never!

Getting on to the news front first, I bought a house in Mumbai...that's right, a dwelling place in one of the most densely populated and costliest cities in the world. That is the good part. The bad part is that the house and associated liabilities have resulted in a fixed monthly expense of about Rs. 80,000 and that is without taking into account the other, relatively variable expenditure that one will have to make towards regular expenses like maid, electricity, cooking gas, car fuel, groceries, etc...most of which is being covered by Priya today but that will only last for that much more time.

The office, incidentally, has also shifted to Kalina, which is only 3 odd kilometers from my new home. What this means is that I have now got additional two hours of my life per day, all to myself. I have started utilizing these two additional hours properly. While the one in the morning goes into exercise (I have actually started running and to my utter surprise, I have managed notwithstanding my leg), the one in the evening goes to reading (one good habit that I had put on the back burner for a long time).

Amongst other news, my car has become a wreck and the driver is threatening to leave (not related to each other but still...). Now Sunil, the driver in question, has been serving our family for the last six years and since he belongs to the native place, the trust factor is pretty strong. From my side, I have tried to treat him well but the promise of Mumbai does not fail in getting anyone. Having spent his driving career in Jaipur and Delhi, Sunil has realized, having come to Mumbai, what the possibilities are...how endless they seem once you are free to pursue them...and free is what he wants to be.

Okay, now that we are done with news in its strictest sense, time to do the transition from news to its impact. The transition, of course, starts with more news and this one happens to be that I did not get any special treatment from my firm this year (and this includes bonus and salary hikes which I did not expect, as well as promotions and role definitions which I did). That's it...I have said it and I don't care who reads it.

Obviously, all the news has resulted in a combination of some extreme sentiments. There is, of course, happiness, joy, pride, and a sense of achievement on the family owning a house in Mumbai (celebrated in part via two housewarming parties, one for the college junta and another for the office people). At the same time, there is sadness, disappointment, disillusionment, and a resignation to fate that has resulted from news at work.

I have become so befuddled with all this that I don't know whether to be happy or sad nowadays. The end result is that I have become such an explosive mixture that at times, I hardly know what to expect from myself. A friend tells me that I am dead and have lost my sense of humor, another tells me that I am into some sort of depression, my sister has stopped talking to me since I flare up at her at the slightest of things, and I get tired of any conversation that lasts for more than a minute or two.

Much ado about...

Thu, 26 Mar 2009 10:40:20 GMT
Regular readers of this blog (I am still hopeful!) are aware of the entire brouhaha about "The play that never was" which happened last Wednesday. Irregular readers or those who don't know what I am talking about should read the previous post just below this before they come back to read the rest of this one.

Now that Wednesday March 25th was approaching, I was looking forward to watch the play more than ever before. Further news items in newspapers and on the radio, talking about the play and how its special edition was going to be a special show, kept on adding to the anticipation throughout the week.

And then it was that I received this mail from my boss asking me to arrange a mock session for some presentation on some product that we are launching. And before you say you guessed it, let me still have the satisfaction of telling you that the mail mentioned Wednesday March 25th as one of the dates on which the sessions would take place and before you jump the gun and take away from me my thunder, let me also tell you that the timings for the session were just right, starting about an hour before the show started and ending at least an hour after the show could have ended.

So it was that with a heavy heart, I drew the schedule and sent it to all concerned. I was still ruminating on the lost opportunity and trying to console the inconsolable Jassi when I was given a real bad look by one of the other concerned. He also happened to have planned for the show...with his wife...having bought tickets worth Rs 1000 each...twice of what we paid, btw.

In spite of all the bad looks and all the inability of being consoled, nothing could have been changed, more so when there was a mail from the boss again the next day, asking people to stay back for the entire session irrespective of whether they were directly involved in it or not. You couldn't have played around with something as direct as that, could you (we did try doing some re-scheduling earlier when certain things would have freed us up on time for the show)?

It was not to be and it was not. We sat through the entire mock session, I trying to forget everything by concentrating on watching the presentation getting murdered in some mock sessions and added on to in others, others shifting from being interested to being hung over, all this within less than a few minutes.

And then the torture ended and we were out on the streets to get back to home and that is exactly when the show broke as well. As Jassi put it very nicely, "not only did we not get to see the show, but we also got to get stuck in the traffic because of it".

PS: We managed to sell the tickets in time, and the person we sold to had a really nice time...really nice...really nice (yes, she did it, repeated it thrice).

My Blonde Moment

Thu, 19 Mar 2009 10:23:55 GMT
I did it. Before you start your wisecracks about how everyone does it some time or the other and it took me a really long time to get about doing it, let me correct you. It's not about what you think it is about. It is about what I am going to tell you it is about.

So there is this very popular play I had been looking forward to catch whenever it plays in town. The play called "The Vagina Monologues" is broadly a tribute to Women's Liberation and is popular the world over. It was last Sunday that I came across an ad which said that the play was in town and for the first time in its screenings around the world, this screening (the 200th one) will have any male actors and these male actors would be the celebrities Farhan Akhtar and Imran Khan.

Expectedly, it was an excited me who, after being reminded of the play yet again by an ad this Sunday, shot off an email on Monday morning to all friends, asking them if they were on for the show on Wednesday. Since it was middle of the week, most of the people responded in the negative and it was ultimately Jassi (Jasminder Gujral for the uninitiated is a colleague and friend) and me who ended up forming the party. I happily booked the second cheapest tickets (which were worth 500 apiece, incredulously) on bookmyshow.com and received confirmation for the same on my mobile.

All I needed to do now was walk up to NCPA (next building to my office), show the message on my mobile, collect the tickets, walk into the theatre and enjoy the show. Things were going along on the said lines till we saw that the ticket counter from where we were supposed to collect the tickets was shut down. When we, exasperated because we were already late for the strict 7:30 PM start, approached the security guards, they knowingly smiled and reassured us that such things have happened in the past.

While one of the security guards was trying to call up the program manager to help us out, the other kept talking about some Lawni event that was happening and if we had come to see that. Knowing that there were three theatres in the NCPA compound and assuming that he was talking about some event at one of the other two theatres, I did not pay much heed to what he was saying. He then went on to ask me if I had the message with me. I was about to blow over the top by now as I opened the message on my mobile and began reading from it, as if to prove the big mistake the guard had done in challenging some one like me on some thing like this...of course, I had the message...what did he mean by Do you have the message...Will I come here just like that, without booking tickets, without checking if I got the confirmation message...

"See, here it says", I said..."Vagina Monologues, NCPA Tata Theatre 7:30 PM, Wednesday, 25 March 2009. Aaj Wednesday hi hai na?". And that was when Jassi spoke for the first time. "Dude, kya kar raha hai...Today is Wednesday but not the 25th, 18th of March, what are you doing???"

Ghate do to bache kya?

Tue, 17 Mar 2009 14:33:09 GMT

Jaise door des ke tower me ghus jaaye re aeroplane
Jaise sare aam Iraq me jaake jam gaye Uncle Sam
Jaise Bisleri ki bottle pike ban gaye English Man
Jaise har ek baat pe Democracy me lagne laga hai ban
Jaise bina baat Afghanistan ka baj gayo bhaiyya band
Jaise door desh ke tower me ghus jaaye re aeroplane

Anurag Kashyap does it again. In fact, he did it again when he did it in DevD. This was what he did before DevD was completed and even if you may say that he did it better the second time, he still did it damn better than most others even the first time around. Coming after Black Friday and No Smoking, with Gulaal, Kashyap has gone really deep into the web of ambition, greed, and angst as he weaves his characters around it.

Set against the backdrop of the Rajputana movement and its overlap with student politics in the local university, Gulaal's storyline seems to be incidental to the real tale that is attempted at being told. This, perhaps, is the weakest link in the movie and it is difficult to say if this was intentional or otherwise...once human feelings and emotions take center stage in such strong fashion as in Gulaal, it is anyway difficult to do justice to anything else.

As you see Dilip Singh (Raja Chaudhary) move in with Rananjay Singh aka Ransa (Abhimanyu Singh) and are just settling into the movie just as Dilip is trying to settle in a new city and university, you are caught unawares as Dilip gets entangled in one of the strongest and most hard hitting ragging sessions seen on celluloid. You follow Dilip getting beaten and thrown butt naked in a room which has for company, another naked individual who, you realize with a gasp a little later, is Anuja (Jesse Randhawa), a new professor at the college. If ever a movie had set the tone for what was to come next, this was it.

Dilip's humiliation sees Ransa getting involved in the petty college rivalry and the subsequent entry into the scene of Dukey Bana (Kay Kay Menon) who is the covert marshal for Rajputana independence. In no time, Ransa is projected as the candidate for General Secretary Elections in the university, with full support from Dukey Bana and hidden support from his father, the ex-King, whom Ransa is not really proud of.

At this stage, we also see the introduction of probably the two strongest characters in this movie, the brother-sister duo of Karan (Aditya Srivastava) and Kiran (Ayesha Mohan). Burning with angst against their father for not having given them his name and against the society for never failing to make them realize and remember their illegitimate status, Karan and Kiran want to achieve their rightful place in the Rajput society, come what may.

As pawns start getting moved, the color of blood gets mixed with the heat of bodies pressing against each other and everything, right from bullets to free sex, is used to further the political ambitions of the involved players. Ransa gets killed, Dilip becomes the dummy candidate, wins the election. Kiran sleeps with Dilip, makes him lose his sleep and resign only to take his place. The two camps bump off people before seamlessly merging and Kiran using her charms on Dukey Bana to go for the final kill.

Things happen at such a frantic pace that getting a hold on the story and tying together the strings of each of the many characters becomes next to impossible. This may have been the falling of any other movie but the treatment that the characters get from the director stands out in this case. You keep marveling at Kiran's unabashed sexuality, at Karan's lack of any scruples in getting his sister on others' beds, at Dukey Bana's insane fervor, at Dilip's bumble act translating into that of a madman, at Jadhwal's (Pankaj Jha) arrogance and cruelty, at Anuja's pride and her frustration at having lost it, at Madhuri's (Mahie Gill in a special appearance) simplicity going to the extent of idiocy, at Bhati's (Deepak Dobriyal) cool composure and single minded devotion, and above all at Prithvi Bana's (Piyush Mishra) John-Lennon-amulet-wearing, harmonium-playing folk songs interspersed with some really topical English lyrics.

The score, especially the lyrics for Gulaal is one of the most exceptional to have hit the screens in recent times. With Piyush Mishra being given full freedom to flex his creative muscles, the result is striking. Whether it is the topical commentary sung and picturised as a mujra or the closing re-interpretation of Sahir Ludhianvi's Ye duniya agar mil bhi jaaye to kya hai, Piyush Mishra is simply brilliant. With his music (mostly in the background), lyrics and his smooth act in the movie, he stands out as the single largest thing going for this movie. And to say that for a movie which has excellent acting displays from nearly half dozen artists is really a lot.

The ever potent Kay Kay Menon, though standing by his own in an explosive performance, is still overshadowed at times by the sheer natural talent of others, the notables amongst them being Abhimanyu Singh, Deepak Dobriyal, Ayesha Mohan, and Aditya Srivastava. All these actors and most of others get into the skin of their roles and get colored by the red Gulaal at different points in the movie, red Gulaal that depicts the emotions associated with rebellion, revolution, anger, ambition, pride, lust, fear, greed, exploitation...

Anurag Kashyap has managed the technicals well and they are good enough to not distract attention from the pure play of emotions that is the high point of Gulaal. In trying to be true to the plotline, however, Kashyap does actually lose the plot at times. There are too many things going on and the typical movie audience keeps trying to tie all loose ends together, focus on how each character is developed, concentrate on the idea left behind with them at some point of the movie, expecting it to be brought to its logical conclusion before things end. It does not happen, however, and it can be attributed to the new genre of film-making that Kashyap brings to the fore.

All threads are not meant to be tied up, all ideas are not important, it is not as much about the revolution than about the characters' situations around it and their way of handling these situations. It is not important if you did not know what happened to Anuja, to Dilip, or to Kiran later...what matters is the strong realization that a change in guard is not enough to change the reality ala Ye Duniya agar mil bhi jaaye to kya hai...what matters is the look on Kiran's face in the last frame of the movie and she stares on with tears of pride at her brother as he takes over pride of place at the helm of Rajputana, a society of those very people who had rejected them, humiliated them, and laughed at them for their illegitimacy.

While you watch the movie and digest all this, you may keep your eyes open for the Kashyap touch. There are many ways in which he differentiates this movie, changing it from yet another couple of hours of entertainment to an arrogant medium of expression. The difference is depicted and illustrated both directly and through references...via the use of profanity in sharp dialogues, use of some twisted humor and unconventional music, attention to details, some jazzy light and camera angles, raising a toast to rock culture, whether it is direct references to John Lennon, or the indirect usage of symbols like the song Kiran keeps playing on her guitar (Goodbye Blue Sky from Pink Floyd's album 'The Wall'), and above all, cryptic symbolism depicted in so many different ways, in the antics of the painted Ardha Narishwar and Prithvi Bana, in the names of drinks that Ransa orders (Republic and Democracy, anyone?), through symbols like the word Nihilism (the philosophical position that values do not exist but rather are falsely invented) written on the black board of the class Anuja goes in to teach.

Ye Duniya agar mil bhi jaaye to kya hai

Mon, 16 Mar 2009 12:53:50 GMT
Movie: Gulaal
Lyrics: Piyush Mishra
Verdict: Simply awesome

O Ri Duniya

Surmayi Aankhon Ke Pyaalon Ki Duniya
Satrangi Rangon Gulaalon Ki Duniya..O Duniya
Alsaayi Sezon Ke Phoolon Ki Duniya
Angdaai Tode Kabootar Ki Duniya
Karwat Le Soyi Haqueeqat Ki Duniya
Deewaani Hoti Tabeeyat Ki Duniya
Khwahish Mein Lipti Zaroorat Ki Duniya
Insaan Ke Sapno Ki Neeyat Ki Duniya..O Duniya

O Ri Duniya

Ye Duniya Agar Mil Bhi Jaaye To Kya Hai�

Mamta Ki Bikhri Kahaani Ki Duniya
Behno Ki Siski Jawaani Ki Duniya
Aadam Ke Hawwaa Se Rishte Ki Duniya
Shaayar Ke Pheeke Lafzon Ki Duniya

Ghalib Ke Momin Ke Khwaabon Ki Duniya
Majaazon Ke Un Inqualaabon Ki Duniya
Faiz Firaaq Aur Saahir O Makhdoom
Mir Ki Zauk Ki Daagh Ki Duniya

Ye Duniya Agar Mil Bhi Jaaye To Kya Hai...

Pal Chhin Mein Baatein Chali Jaati Hain Hain
Pal Chhin Mein Raatein Chali Jaati Hain Hain
Reh Jaata Hai Jo Savera Wo Dhoondhey
Jalte Makaan Mein Basera Wo Dhoondhey
Jaisi Bachi Hai Waisi Ki Waisi Bachaa Lo Ye Duniya
Apna Samajhke Apno Ke Jaisi Uthaalo Ye Duniya

Chhut Put Si Baaton Mein Jalne Lagegi Sambhaalo Ye Duniya�
Kat Pit Ke Raaton Mein Palne Lagegi Sambhaalo Ye Duniya..

O Ri Duniya�

Wo Kahein Hain Ki Duniya Ye Itni Nahi Hai
Sitaaron Se Aage Jahaan Aur Bhi Hain
Ye Hum Hi Nahi Hain Wahaan Aur Bhi Hain
Hamaari Har Ek Baat Hoti Wahin Hai

Hamein Aitraaz Nahi Hai Kahin Bhi
Wo Aalim Hain Faazil Hain Honge Sahi Hi
Magar Falsafaa Ye Bigad Jaata Hai
Jo Wo Kehte Hain

Aalim Ye Kehta Wahaan Eeshwar Hai
Faazil Ye Kehta Wahaan Allah Hai

Tumhari Hai Tum Hi Sambhalon Ye Duniya
Ye Bujhte Huye Chand Baasi Charaaghon Ki
Tumhaare Ye Kaale Iraadon Ki Duniya�

The Colors of Holi

Thu, 12 Mar 2009 10:17:02 GMT
When it is time for Holi, I have never been one of those early starters, delaying the inevitable every time. This happens partly on account of the inertia that is behind my procrastinating self, and partly due to the looming fear of having to work hard for getting the color off my skin. Even when I was a little kid, whereas normal little kids revelled in the concept of dirtying themselves and others and getting lost in the world of colors, I had no such, at least not as clearly established, inclinations.

Now that many springs have passed since I used to be a little kid, the scenario is, if anything, even more so directed against the getting-wild-on-Holi tendencies. Not that I have anything against the festival or people who celebrate it whole-heartedly...in fact, I love all the revelry, the fun, and songs and dances that make Holi as special a festival as it is. But all the same, I can not get myself to shout with the same gusto, to forcibly bring out the shy ones from wherever they are hidden out to the maddeningly vibrant colors, to end up in a state where not even my closest and dearest would recognize me if not for a bucketful of water splashed on my face.

It is not that there have not been instances over the years when I have been one of the most vociferous on the battle field of color, actively involved and deeply ingrained. I can distinctly remember times when I was in different hostels (higher secondary, graduation, and even at post graduation levels) and as much a part of the fun as everyone else. But as I said in the beginning, I was never amongst early starters in this aspect, always the one who would follow the lead and that too after reasonable amount of either cajoling or coercion, depending upon the degree of inertia I would be under at the time.

This Holi was not too different. As India and Indians all over the world looked away from the daily routine and worries and trepidations and put on the mask of color, I was mostly unmoved and unimpressed. With Bharti Didi (my first cousin who stays in Vashi) having invited us for Holi, I was thankful that at least I will be amongst people on the festival and not closeted within the walls of my home with nobody but Priya for company.

I had thought that there will be quite a lot of action at Bharti Didi's place, what with Jijaji being of an effervescent nature himself, and his brother and sister-in-law also being there to enliven the atmosphere. I was surprised, however, to discover that the inertia I have is shared. In retrospect, I think that this may have been more because of the age group that the party belonged to. Although not really coming from entirely different generations, Priya and I were relatively the younger lot and the others had seen more of life and Holi festivities than either of us. And then there was the media, generally sermonizing on how festivals have been increasingly losing their sheen and zeal over the last few years, more so in the recent recessionary times.

So it was that apart from the traditional tilak, this Holi was rather colorless and limited in its impact. Till the next time, hope that the symbolism that color represents is not limited at all and all of you have an extremely colorful and joyous year ahead.

(Un)Real Estate

Mon, 09 Mar 2009 10:33:28 GMT
The fact that the economy of the world, as of India has slowed down is something that has been hitting our ears with varying intensities over the last year. At times, it has been a whisper, while at others someone shouting down our throats, but the effective truth has taken hold on all of us, and the economy, we are in consensus, is doomed for quite some time to come.

It is in times like these when unemployment is at the highest and spending power at its lowest, that things start crumbling. And when I say things, it should logically include every facet, be it the much-in-news financial services, or the still not obvious retail. The reality however is different. There is no restaurant in town which is not filled to its capacity on weekends, no superstore worth its salt which does not see huge footfalls even on weekdays after office hours.

Whether all these footfalls and all these people at eateries contribute to the actual growth of the economy is a big question. The answer, to me, is pretty obvious...a big NO. Had it been really effective, we wouldn't have put the lids on the consumption story of India, or would we? This answer to this is not so obvious because the economy's dependence on consumption, especially the visible economy's (stock market, real estate prices, inflation) dependence on consumption is not as straight forward as it seems.

The impact of factors not really related to the domestic market and its consumption is far more than what we would like to give credence to. Consumption in the advanced economies, we all know, is not even a spot on its previous self and more than that, there are far bigger problems than a slow down in consumption that are plaguing these economies. The world, to add to it all, has shrunk in such a big way that all these problems of the global greats are taking their toll on the so called pygmies who were just beginning to show their real size but have been thwarted in their tracks.

All this has been going through my mind as I have, taking a contrarian call, been looking for a 2 bedroom place to buy in this teeming metropolis. With the kind of rent I pay every month, and the softer interest rates in force, I thought that it will make supreme sense to capitalize on the cash-strapped distress of the Mumbai builders and developers. Hoping to make a killing out of the real estate scenario which everyone has been talking about with a frown on their faces, I started looking out.

Beginning with passive enquiries with friends who have already taken flats (even while the going was good and prices were high) and slowly transforming into active chats with brokers, I have been busy for the last few weekends. Ravi and Deepti have helped immensely, Rohit and Kanav have been making the right noises about going for bulk deals and Himadri has pitched in with his relatively well-off contacts with experiences of their own.

For people familiar with this mad city that Mumbai is, I have, since January this year, explored the central sub-urban areas of Chembur and Wadala, as well as the Western suburbs of Andheri, Jogeshwari, and Goregaon. And this was when I realized the folly of it all. The bloody pirates are still holding on and it is not just illogical, it is silly, even comical�nay hilarious.

I have realized that the best of deals that I have looked at put the floor of my investments at a staggering 70 lacs (for a moment, forget the black component for the sake of convenience) for a 2 bedroom-hall-kitchen house with a carpet area close to 700-750 sq ft. Lest you have forgotten, I am talking about the central and western suburbs, not even Bandra, right before which Mumbai town ends. A distress deal puts the value of 1100 sq ft of space at Jogeshwari-Vikhroli Link Road (not a very prominent location) at an all inclusive tag of 88 lacs. Can you imagine the effrontery of it all?

I can't.

Nayan Tarse

Fri, 06 Mar 2009 11:12:56 GMT

Tauba tera jalwa tauba tera pyaar
Tera emosional atyachaar

The movie is anything but emosional atyachaar and thanks to a certain Mr. Kashyap for this. This is one movie that more than lives up to the expectations that surrounded its release. Not boasting of a stellar cast, the movie seems to be running purely on the eclectic reputation of its lead actor and more than that, its director. Abhay Deol and probably more so, Anurag Kashyap (especially after his recent work in No Smoking) have increasingly set themselves up for scrutiny whenever they try to do something that is even close to different. They have done so many things that are supposedly different and that too, in such a short span of time that any more different from their stables does raise the curious and often cynical eyebrows.

This one, however beats all cynics hollow in an almost surreal psychedelic fashion, a fashion, which to the average viewer, would come out as the underlying theme of the entire movie. Starting quite in similar vein to other recent small budget Abhay Deol starrers, DevD traces the stories of Dev, a spoilt brat who goes to London to study and his childhood sweetheart, Paro who doesn't think twice before sending her nude pics over the internet to her lover and carry a mattress to the fields on her bicycle in the hope of getting an opportunity to make out. As if this was not explosive enough for a start, soon enough, we are transposed from the single room sets and the fields of Punjab to the techno music playing bars of Delhi.

This transformation is not without incidents, though...incidents which are central to the story and the setting of context. A casual fling at a marriage ceremony (the definition of casual gets a new meaning here) and some banter about Paro result in the arrogantly rebellious scoundrel humiliating and disowning his equally strong-headed, reveling-in-sexuality girlfriend insatiate, almost as in an incomplete sexual release.

That is how it comes across, the first half of the movie, resplendent in the colors of the human body and the desires that it has over and above anything else. There are no feelings and no emotions as things move from one frame to another with an incoherently insensitive Dev trying to recover from the emosional atyachaar of his pyaar who decides to get hitched to an older man, if only to teach her jilted lover a lesson.

This recovery is guided by the ever-smiling, cunning Chunni, the pimp operating in the environs of Paharganj, that eternal cove of Delhi which hides beneath itself much more than probably the entire city of Delhi can dare to reveal. And this is where we meet Chanda, the girl prostitute, the linguist who can provide phone sex facilities in so many languages, the girl-woman who could never make it as the regular girl-next-door because she was filmed doing the unthinkable for a school going girl.

This, of course, refers to the DPS (my alma mater, coincidentally) MMS scandal. Here, I must admire the way Kashyap brings out the fact that everyone who ever found it fit to condemn the protagonist in the little MMS movie did so only after having a good time exploiting the victim, first by enjoying the episode to his heart's content and then, of course, by writing and talking reams on how the moral fabric of the victim and the society at large has gone to the dogs.

So Chanda, it is, who goes ahead and gives some sort of support to Dev, even if it means Dev vacillating between pining for a forbidden fruit in the form of an unclaimed and now non claimable love and coming to terms with the fact that the only one who loves him probably does not have the right to do so for she, her body and her love, are all on sale in the marketplace.

Sounds familiar, does it? Close to what Sarat Babu wrote in the classic Devdas, is it? Well, the answer is both yes and no for the director and all three lead actors (four, if you also count the effervescent Chunni) hold fast to a modern adaptation of the classic but at the same time make it abundantly clear that it is but an adaptation.

There is no way the classic would have ever thought of the three characters who come out at the most random moments in the movie to break into a jig or just watch silently, leaning against the wall. There is no way the classic would have such an amazing soundtrack and make the most optimum use of sound, lights, and camera to reflect the inner conundrum that Dev goes through while getting split between the two loves of his life...destruction of self and humiliation of others.

All the same, Anurag Kashyap does not fail to dig deep into the psyche of his characters and bring out what they stand for in the story that the classic novel tells. The nonchalant rebel in Dev, the vibrant pride in Paro, and the calm devotion in Chanda are all there, perhaps brought out in Technicolor through brilliant audio-visual treatment. The cine-goer comes out with endless things (good or bad depends on the diet of movies that he has been brought up amongst) to say about the technicians of this movie, whether it is the director Anurag Kashyap, or the cinematographer Rajeev Ravi, or the brilliant people associated with the songs and music of the movie (Music Director Amit Trivedi and the playback singers, specially Bony Chakravarthy and Shruthi Pathak).

Amongst the actors, it is not very surprising to see the underplaying of Abhay Deol fail for once. He could have grabbed a little more of the camera and been the better for it. However, he continues in the tradition of an Oye Lucky, Lucky Oye or a Manorama, Six Feet Under and plays the exact contrast to the most recent portrayal of the character of Devdas by Shahrukh Khan. While Shahrukh was completely over the top, Abhay is too subdued to make any meaningful impact.

The half-Indian half-French Kalki Koechlin is not an actor and that is very clear. However, Anurag Kashyap has worked wonders with what he has been able to get out of his real life girlfriend for this particular movie. It is difficult to put your finger on whether it is the disinterest of a prostitute that is essential to the character or it is the lack of capacity to act and portray emotions that leads to the empty face of Koechlin. Whatever it is, it works!

The one actor who comes out very strongly in the entire movie, of course, is Mahi Gill. Playing the super-confident woman of the world of today, Mahi is superbly brash but yet dignified, strangely even in her humiliation and more appropriately in her revenge. She comes out as someone who would be likely to be the sort of woman that the character of Anurag Kashyap's Paro is...and that is saying a lot because even if this character is real, it is certainly more real than what any of the movie audiences are going to be willing to accept.

The broad pulse of this movie is rocking, to use the euphemism that the supposed target audience of this movie would typically employ. The endless scenes of intoxication preceded by the ones that cause the said intoxication have been shot with perfection. The camera angles, the colors, the background score and the actors' emotions or the lack of them need to be seen to be believed.

Most important of all, the transition of the much filmed character of Devdas is there for all to see and admire. From a man who loved too much of KL Saigal and Dilip Kumar to the self-flagellating, self-indulgent man of Sharukh Khan, Devdas is now the sulky, unsure, and insecure individual who goes on a journey of self-realization, a journey that is replete with his own obsessions and addictions.

What's on your mind?

Wed, 18 Feb 2009 10:06:44 GMT
It has been a long time since I last wrote and this happened despite my resolution (not a new year one but generally) of being more regular. Anyway, that is what always tends to happen if you really set your mind to something contrary. Come to think of it, that can not be right especially if you think about what Basu, a budding hypnotist has to say. Basu is a classmate from BHU and a good friend who I recently met at the wedding of Ankur, another classmate and good friend from BHU (and also my room mate for the only year at BHU when we had to share rooms).

Now, this wedding was in a place called Chatarpur, which inspite of what people may think, is not in Delhi (that is Chatarpur hills, by the way), but in Madhya Pradesh. The place is a district, a decent town by any standards and yet surprisingly does not even have a railway station. This is explained by the fact that the town apparently does not fall in the middle of any major route, somewhat like a dead end maybe. Anyway, I am digressing. Coming back to the point, a trip to Chatarpur in the middle of the week (the wedding was on Thursday) seemed entirely unlikely till Basu and Animesh (yeah, I know you have guessed it already...another classmate and good friend from BHU) started making plans to go there.

Go there we did, but Animesh could not make it and it fell to Basu and me to enliven the proceedings at Ankur's baraat, which was running the risk of being a non-starter but for his brother and the two of us, of course. We danced the night away and warmed the cockles of our hearts enough by feasting on some good food and good faces. Having done that, it was time to go to Khajuraho the next day to give more definition to the Madhya Pradesh trip, unique and unlikely to be repeated soon that it was.

Khajuraho was exciting (not just erotic, read again) and not only because the ruins were the way they were but more because standing in the midst of it all, you could not help imagining yourself in the era bygone when the same area that seemed deserted except for the typical tourists, was the center of civilization as people knew it. The temples, their roofs, entry pathways and the entire aura of the place simply transported you in the middle of all the action, the priests chanting mantras, the flower sellers offering you flowers to devote at Gods' feet, the artisans presenting their craft at the temples' steps...it was all so fantastic.

Khajuraho done, we moved on to Delhi where Basu was hospitality personified as I stayed with him for a couple of days and we sat around discussing stuff, watching movies, and generally having a good time. It was in the middle of this good time that we decided to take on an earlier discussion that we had somewhere in Madhya Pradesh on the efficacy of hypnotism as a form of therapy. Having tried a trained hypnotherapist and discovered that she was busy and not aavailable before I left Delhi, Basu decided to take matters in his hand.

It was, he said and I tend to agree, the suggestability of ideas that hypnotism is all about. An idea, once implanted in the subconscious tends to bring the person around to accepting the idea in its entirety. So, coming back to what I started with, if you really set your mind to something (especially the subconscious part of your mind), there is no way that will not happen. So a situation where what happens is contrary to what you have thought will happen, there is something really screwed up about you and your mind :-)

By the way, the experiment of hypnotism that Basu did with me was pretty successful.