A day beautifully spent!

Some days are memorable, some forgettable, some transcend these simple categorisations and enter a different realm altogether. There are days when everything seems oddly poetic; something nearing perfection and exceeding expectations that, whoever one talks to and whatever one does, begins to get tinged with a touch of rare and simple beauty. Today was one such day...

Gopal had invited us to his house opposite the BTM lake. It was nothing formal; just the promises of Samosas and an evening of boating. I went a little early to find him shopping for curd and milk. I found his cook getting ready to prepare some Samosas. We talked about work for a while and just when it was getting boring, Niranjan, Saurabh, Rupesh and Devesh joined us.

A simple bachleor's dwelling, the place gave the feel of a maturing gentleman's abode. We received the head cook who gave precious culinary instructions before disappearing. Once the cook left, We attacked the Kitchen with a zeal, that is characteristic of gaining some understanding of a place, that holds much charm in its simplicity.


Saurabh and Gopal set about preparing more Samosas while eveybody wanted to pose either stirring the oil in the pan or peeling the onions. It is the tender joy of accomplishment that is seen in the smiles here. Rupesh explored the PC for songs and movies. We even attempted to dance funnily for the RDB track unable to restrain ourselves.

For lunch we had the traditional north Indian dish - Kadhi - with a mixture of potato, onion and tomato. The papad and Aam ka Achar were the other delicacies! All along, khatta-meetha, a movie that had dollops of humor and warmth was the entertainer. It made us realize that, there is a yearning within us for such movies which sadly, are not made anymore.

When we were drifting to sleep, the movie ended and we had the forgotten dessert - Gulab Jamuns. When we stepped out, a cloudy evening greeted us and the BTM park close to the lake was getting its evening visitors - the young and the restless crowd looking for some semblance of nature in a concrete jungle. The water wasn't clean and throughout the boat ride, the conversation centred around how couples try to steal moments of privacy in parks. There was much teasing and good hearted humor. It was a saturday spent in a most lovely fashion and one that, I'll remember for a long time.

Indeed, days, when nothing but happiness and a sense of camaraderie and bonhmie prevail - they are a rarity in an age of competitive oneupmanship.

Reflections on the closure of Premier bookshop

I came to know that Premier book shop has closed in Bangalore through this article in THE HINDU magazine by Ramachandra Guha. Having written about the shop earlier and having been there many a time after learning about it, I feel that it’s a loss for all book lovers in Bangalore.

The clutter and the disorder evident at the outset, as one entered that shop and the sheer variety of books within that space will always stay with me. Like an addiction one gets used to, I have felt that time and space lose all meaning inside a good bookshop.

Book lovers are a breed fast disappearing due to new age distractions in the form of Internet and an excessive focus on other supposedly more rewarding hobbies. To be able to browse through old and new books in all their imposing glory, at leisure, is a delight that sadly a dwindling number of youth understand today. It has become fashionable and indeed in some cases consequently respectable to pronounce the possession of the latest best seller.

As a hobby, reading has exposed me to worlds far and near, emotions inexplicable and strangely unfathomable, it has helped me understand myself better and expanded my heart to accommodate and grasp the feelings of my fellow human beings. When one reads about the tragedies of the poverty-stricken, the grief of the estranged, the joy of the adventurer, the passion and longing of the lovers, one has to admit that there is a sense of the broadening of the spirit; a vision of the shackles destroyed and conquered.

If such is the joy experienced by an ardent lover of books, imagine the happiness, a person like Mr. TS Shanbhag would have felt loving his shop with such fervor and facilitating the transfer of nuggets of Wisdom to the ownership of a largely appreciating bunch of people.

Delhi 6 - A colorfully smart entertainer!

Delhi - 6 - After what seemed an interminable wait once the trailors and music were released, I finally saw the movie yesterday. At the outset, I declare that this has spoilers. Though touted to be shot in Delhi, a huge set was evidently used and the result is quite mixed. We are taken to a place where there is some kind of a time warp, especially as it is very close to the national capital. Rickshaws, cows, horses and vintage cars - this is what the scene is like and its a little hard to believe especially as the effort seems to be directed towards making all modern transportation non-existent.

The first half of the movie is an introduction of numerous characters and much of the effort goes in establishing how they interplay in a small locality. A money lender, a Muslim sweetshop owner, a family divided by a wall (Om Puri and Pawan Malhotra on either side), a photographer, a mysterious monkey man, two mischievous kids, a low caste garbage collector and an ambitious Bittu (Sonam Kapoor) - they joke, discuss the monkey man and go to see the Ram Lila with their Muslim neighbors. Roshan (Abhishek) arrives with his grandmother to this locality. He is frustrated in the beginning, gradually is drawn to the people and falls in love with Bittu in a subtly sublime fashion and with the place as a whole as circumstances pan out.The setting is complete for the second half.

The cinematography by Binod Pradhan is very good. One gets to see the numerous bylanes with sweet shops, cricket-playing kids, colorful people, the temple and the mosque -they showcase the diversity in a simple and convincing manner. The music is one of the best works of AR Rahman. The Mozart of Madras displays his versatility and even gets behind the mike for a number. The songs are already big hits with 'Masakali' and 'Maula', being my favorites. Kailash Kher and Javed Ali make the latter even more memorable. The lyrics by Prasoon Joshi are again different and innovative. 'Hey kala kala kala bandar/Bahar hai ya andar...Aao Hum shisha dekhe/Apna sandesha dekhe/Apna Ghayal Hissa dekhe/Apna asli kissa dekhe', 'Tujhe badalna na chahoon/Rati bhar bhi sanam/Bina sajawat milawat/Na jyaada na hi kaam' go the lines and they are riveting.

Social messages are conveyed throughout the movie. The struggle between superstition and modernity exemplified by the rumors of monkey man and the launch of Chandrayan, the bane of untouchability in the 21st century and the shame of forced marriages in an age when women are shattering all ceilings - this is where the movie scores high. A lot of characters at times serve to veer away the focus. Abhishek is just good and Sonam has a very good presence whenever she gets the chance.Atul Kulkarni is wasted for his potential.

In the second half, a small spark ignites a communal flare-up in the peaceful and colorful locality. The warmth is suddenly lost and suspicions abound. This shows how tensions and animosity need only a small flame to feed on. Politicians exploit the divide to gain. Things seem head for a disastrous end. Roshan explains the metaphor of Monkey Man which is all the movie is about. He nevertheless falls a victim to the unreasonable anger of the people when he saves Bittu and professes his love.

This is a movie that tries to pack a lot of things together, but ultimately leaves the viewer with some good messages to carry home. It is certainly not as good as Rang De Basanti; that doesn't mean that it should be missed. Watch it without RDB expectations and come out with a better understanding of the Kaleidoscope that is our country and the fickle and prejudiced nature that is mankind!

On Love, Culture, feminism and Valentine’s Day

The question of whether Valentine’s Day is a western import is irrelevant as we embrace globalization. The very meaning of the word “Globalization” says that it is the process of transformation of local or regional phenomena into global ones. When love, something as universal as love is involved, then without doubt, the pace of transformation would be quick.

To say that it is against our “culture”- referring to the “Indian culture” here- is ridiculous. As is the question, why do we need Feb 14 to proclaim love? Nobody said, declare your love or express your love only on one particular day. Each and every day, humanity is assaulted by a whole gamut of feelings. We struggle to come to terms with the assault. We need time to understand our feelings for each other and why we feel what we feel… Often enough, we don’t express what we feel. Some things hold us back, we are caught up in a vortex of emotions that compartmentalizing is difficult.

Come Feb 14, some of us realize that we should proclaim our love. There is nothing harmful in it. Of course, greeting cards, gifts and associated paraphernalia are deemed necessary by advertisers, media and sundry other influences. If one narrowly defines love as something that exists between a man and a woman with sexual connotations, as some sections of the society do, then, there are all the ingredients for a scrimmage.

When a pub in Mangalore was singled out for demonstration of a “confused” and “warped” mindset, the perpetrators of violent lessons wanted to make a point - That going to pubs was not a woman’s business. If they had beaten up men too, they’d have done themselves some good. Instead, references were made to Indian culture as if culture is a static entity that is immune to change. Also at stake was the “right” as adults that Women can exercise. If one leaves aside the question of whether ‘drinking and having fun in a pub’ is good or bad, and focuses instead on the question of whether ‘violence as a weapon of expression of disapproval in a democracy with defined fundamental rights’ is acceptable, the answer is obvious.

Feminism is the belief that women have equal political, social, sexual, intellectual and economic rights to men. It is not about women being able to do whatever men can or some such crap. In a world where “physical power” is increasingly unnecessary with the advent and evolution of machines, this belief holds more water. To single out one half of the population and preach morality is akin to having “Manu Smriti” as the reference for freedom of women which is very debatable.

The SRS and its chief have now received more than their deserved share of media coverage for confusing all the above issues and threatening to marry off couples on Valentine’s Day. To remain silent is to have acquiesced and moved on. To say that they are wrong and that people who wish to celebrate are free to do so amounts to standing up for these rights – Right to equality and Right to freedom. To elaborate, the state cannot discriminate against a citizen on the basis of sex; there is freedom of speech and expression and freedom to assemble peacefully without arms.

That is precisely what we did on Feb 14 – When a small group of Bloggers and socially-conscious men and women, gathered with placards to spread simple messages. Messages that said “Free hugs” and “Wish you a fear free society”, simple but universally capable of striking a chord.

What we got in the beginning was curious glances, smiles and expressions of surprise. As time wore on, people came to us and spoke about what they felt. ”Why are you doing this”? “Good work” and “Happy Valentine’s day” encouraged us. “Can I hug you?” and “I need a hug” served to prove that human nature is made up, more of love and less of hate. That is why, perhaps the wheels of the World continue to grind and “good” continues to “triumph” over evil. It is a matter of “cruel’ time before this simple realization dawns everywhere.

A letter written in delirium…

Friend,

The time has come for our ways to part.
The road has taken a cruel turn and fate
has played its dreadful game…

Some memories are wrapped in gold.
So fragile and innocent they are, so vibrant
and brimming with life and energy, that a
faint tickle runs down my spine as I think
about our first meeting…

Your delightful mien and endearing smile, a
thousand fairies would envy. Your graceful
walk and beautifully large eyes – an elixir of
happiness to many a tired soul…

The times we spent together, the evenings bathed in
the light of the setting Sun and the mornings shrouded
in wintry dew - if the soul can wear a hat and dance in
the rain, if it can proclaim loud, the joy and ecstasy of
being alive, it would have danced and cried, a hundred times…

The good natured conversations, the innocuous teasing…
Of the dusk lost in faraway worlds, of the dawn breaking
Out ever so pleasant… it is in your presence that I drank goodness
and realized the face of beauty.

As you go your separate way, you leave me richer
and pure - Cleansed of impurity and harm, it’s something
akin to bliss where Gods seem near and every hurdle, a feather.
Every step you take, every object you grace, peace descends and
Joy Prevails.

--Siva.

Luck By Chance - The Making of Success

The Hindi film industry got off to a lukewarm start in 2009 with the over-hyped ‘Chandni Chowk to China’, now threatening to derail Akshay Kumar’s style of comedy – where entertainment and comedy is confused with the perception of a dumb audience.

Luck by Chance, directed by Zoya Akhtar, with Farhan Akhtar playing the lead and Javed Akhtar wielding the pen for the dialogues and lyrics is money’s worth all the way. It wasn’t given a very wide publicity, the trailers were just ‘OK’ and the music seemed average. In spite of all this, the movie impresses for there are a number of things to be appreciated here.

When we start writing about movies, the risk is that there can be many views and many tastes. Some people want pure entertainment, some people want cinema as it should aspire to be, a mirror to the society and our way of life while some others want the right balance. Entertainment isn’t about “running around trees” alone and cinema to be commercially viable, shouldn’t demand an “intellectual” viewer. What ‘Luck by chance’ strives to achieve is the right balance.

It isn’t completely “realistic” and yet with its sincere writing and dialogues engages the viewer. Vikram (Farhan) and Sona (Konkona) are waiting for their big breaks in the land of thousand dreams – Bollywood. Their paths cross and they start liking each other, united by a common dream and nurturing mutual respect for each other’s talents. The nervous and insecure producer, the busy actor, the ever interesting crew of helpers and “manipulators”, the hints at casting couch, star parents and star daughters – one sees them all, the beauty is that they blend with the story in a rare unifying experience rather than being irritating side shows because they are the story itself and not costly embellishments.

Farhan, from the aspiring “nobody” progresses to become a charmingly “cute” fresh star, aided - as his teacher portends earlier - by luck’s generosity and his own hard work and skills of persuasive flattery. As he says, in one of the remarkable dialogues, sugar is indeed needed to sweeten up things. His object of praise is the star mother (Dimple Kapadia) of a “lucky” starlet. (Isha Sharwani)

The stereotypes are subtly shown. When the teacher says, heroines “too” need some skills to grow and when Sona in a display of understanding and disbelief, chides Vikram for failing to think about her own career – they stand out. Dialogues are the highlight with many of them carrying good impact.

The first half is the one when luck remains elusive. The last 5-10 minutes in the first half and towards the end of the movie prove beyond doubt how supremely talented an actor, Konkona is. She revels in the role. SRK, Aamir Khan, Ranbir Kapoor, Abhishek Bachchan, John Abraham, Diya Mirza and Kareena Kapoor play themselves and make fleeting appearances. Hrithik Roshan, Juhi Chawla and Rishi Kapoor have meaty parts and essay them with élan though Rishi and Juhi necessarily overplay as demanded. Isha Sharwani in playing the role of a girl, who can’t act, acts well.

The second half is clearly the better one when Vikram and Sona begin to doubt each other. Vikram doesn’t want to ruin his future when the heroine shows a keen interest in him. Sona is let down by the producer she trusts for too long and realizes her folly in the end.

The movie is a sincere attempt and deserves a hands-up. Only when such efforts are appreciated, can we look forward to see more noteworthy attempts. It deserves the 100 bucks I spent on it for the acting, direction and dialogues.

Tales of the Desert - Sad and Poignant...

Darfur, Sudan – We hear about it every now and then; we read about the conflict there in news papers and occasionally through the electronic media. UN Peace keepers, genocide – these are things that I have heard, spoken about, but not until reading ‘Tears of the Desert’ by Halima Bashir, I could have claimed some knowledge about the gravity of the situation.

This is a true story of one woman (Halima Bashir) who “survives” the “horrors” of Darfur. The book is organized into four parts – ‘Child of the desert’ about the experiences of growing up told beautifully from a young girl’s perspective, ‘School of the desert’ about the initial education and the nurturing of ambitious dreams, ‘Desert of fire’ about the life in university and the withering away of hope and ‘Desert of no return’ about the flight from the horrors of the conflict.

Non-Fictional accounts of cruel acts are disturbing. They make us realize how fortunate we are in comparison to the multitude whose only mistake is to have born in a conflict zone. We complain, crib and cry, but seldom do we appreciate the checks and balances guaranteed by our constitution.

Coming back to the book, the first few chapters are beautiful. In giving an account of the childhood games, the innocent village life of her tribe, the Zaghawa - described as “a fierce, warlike black African people who are the most generous and open in welcoming strangers” – and the sweet pleasures of growing up, occasionally, there are indications of impending gloom. Halima’s grand mother, in particular, will be in the reader’s memory for such is the degree of courage and conviction attributed to her. As she tries to adjust to the onslaught of the radio and TV, the reader is totally engrossed. The distinctions drawn between the tribes and the tales of the medicine woman engage the reader compellingly; they are telling.

As Halima starts going to school and moves away from her parents, she comes to terms with discrimination. Her love and respect for her father grow multifold. “The Arabs won’t make anything easy for us in this country…” says her father. To arm and fortify herself and to fulfill the dream of her father, Halima studies hard and wins her entry to medical course in the University in Khartoum.

There are some passages where one feels, the explanations and reasons could have been better, but I am tempted to put it down to a poor grasp of the history of the conflict. Halima enters university and after the first year, when plain clothes men come to recruit students for “Jihad”, her aspirations take a beating. But, the state of affairs doesn’t continue for long. Amid “rumors of war”, she completes her course and returns to a hero’s welcome to the village.

Her profession and posting brings her in contact with black African rebel fighters and true to her noble profession, she treats them. This lands her in trouble with the Government and soon enough, she finds that she has been posted to a village in the remote north of Darfur. There, she is witness to unspeakable horror when a group of Janjaweed men attack the local school and brutally rape 8-13 year old girls.

“Never, not even in my darkest, blackest nightmare, had I imagined that I would ever witness such horror. What was happening to my country? Where had all the love gone, the goodness, the humanity? Who had let the devil in and given him free reign?” – writes Halima. As she writes about what the men in khaki uniforms do to her, one wonders if such devilish rage and brutality has anything to do with humanity…

The devastation is complete when helicopters suddenly land in her village and it becomes a “vision of hell”. While the children, the old and the women hide in the forest, the men folk are slaughtered. At the end of this third part in the book, one feels emotionally drained and only with a huge effort can continue reading…

Halima is separated from her living kith and kin and manages to flee Darfur and land in London. Then, begins the account of the plight of the asylum seekers – countless people who are forced to flee their lands and search for safety in foreign and mysterious shores.

“Spring flowers were pushing through the grass, trees were in bud, but there was winter in my heart”.
After the media listens to her plight and to her horrific stories about her homeland, she decides to work on this book.

“During my darkest moments I concluded that for those who had died, life had perhaps dealt them the better hand – for the living have to live with the memories and the trauma every day, for the rest of their lives….For me, the scars run deep and will take many a year to heal”.

When I read about the conflict online, I realized that many stories of the World are conveniently ignored and certain nations can go to any extent to exploit natural resources and arm perpetrators of abominable crimes.

Read this book to know about such a story, a sad and poignant story that is known to us because of the bravery in the face of unimaginable odds, of a young woman.