A secret history

Agneepath: Movie review

2012-02-01T20:44:00.008+08:00

Revenge is a dish best served cold and debutante director Karan Malhotra serves up an offering straight from the freezer in his reworking of the 90s cult original. Well, at least for the first 90 minutes anyway, wherein the film plays out like a taught gangster film worthy of the RGV stable. You then wish that RGV actually directed the rest of it, because, thereafter, it descends into mindless melodrama and culminates in an extremely poorly etched climax.

While it would be unfair to compare this to the original, one can say with certainty that the KJo redux does hold its own as an independent film, with its heart in the right place. There are many faults that the film carries - the needless length, the caricature like main antagonist Kancha Cheena, the unnecessary song and dance sequences and the rather sub par soundtrack.

But what really lifts this film are the intense performances from the principal cast. Hrithik Roshan, with his understated and simmering turn as the vengeful Vijay Dinanath Chauhan steals the acting honors here and is closely followed by the ever dependable Rishi Kapoor who does what will probably be an award-winning turn as the Mumbai gang lord Rauf Lala, a new character introduced in this version. Agneepath loyalists will see him a sort of combined embodiment of Tereline, Usman and Shetty and what a worthy embodiment he is, managing the difficult task of being both evil and human at the same time. Sanjay Dutt as the Bhagwad Gita spewing Kancha is a bit over the top. Priyanka Chopra has precious little to do and Om Puri as Commissioner Gaitonde is adequate. The film pays homage to the cinema of the 80s and 90s and is in a way a break from the obsequious urban yuppie cinema we see today and in being so is a clutter-breaker. While it may not satisfy the groupies of the original, it is worth a watch.

3/5

Cheers!

Abhishek.

It's a wrap folks... all the very best for 2012

2011-12-31T19:50:00.007+08:00

Here's wishing you all a very happy new year ahead. 2011 was a tough year, a year of hope as well as of unfulfilled promises. Here's hoping things start to look up in 2012 (and hopefully the world doesn't come to an end and all...).

Seasons greetings!

I leave you with a couple of pictures from our recent Australian holiday. Enjoy!

Cheers!

Abhishek

Cutting the fat #2011

2011-12-28T19:25:00.004+08:00

And another year has come and almost gone. Last year I wrote about how we were trying to look at our monthly budget to cut out some unnecessary costs, so that we could save the money that currently gets spent on stuff that we derive no value from. This exercise is really simple... in theory. Its easy to identify expenses that are wasteful, but its the consistent practice of avoiding impulse buys that's hard. We had our ups and downs this year, but we tried hard. Here are some of the major wins we had this year.

The mortgage. Sometimes all you have to do is ask. We thought the interest rate we were paying on our home loan was a tad high, so we negotiated with the bank and they were happy to reduce the coupon. This brought our monthly installment payment down by $70 each month. Easy peasy.

Annual savings: $850

Using the library. I have a bad habit of splurging on books and DVDs/CDs, and this year the very well stocked National Library helped save me a pile of cash. While I did lose the book shop battle for a bit in Kolkata earlier this year, thankfully the damages weren't that great. The library is a wonderful place to explore and spend time in. I don't really need to own the books I read, so using the library helps save storage space at home as well as a fair bit of money. What about music and films you ask? No problemo, the library has a fantastic audio/video collection as well.

Annual savings: $550

Restructuring the insurance plan. I realized we were paying too much on insurance for too little coverage. So we went to another provider and got a much cheaper plan. And we cancelled existing endowment plans and went only for term plans, thereby increasing our coverage at a much lower cost.

Annual savings: $600

Theres plenty more we can do and the efforts are always on. So here's to another frugal year ahead in 2012. Before I end, a word on our giving this year. Fortunately we were able to give more to charity this year as compared to the year before. Over and above the monthly charity deductions from salary, we hopefully made a bit of a difference to the lives of the many street kids in Kolkata as well as to those of some financially needy students in Singapore. Hope we can keep helping more and more with each passing year.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

The Last Sin

2011-12-17T19:19:00.003+08:00

Image via Wikipedia

One wonders what Gordon Gekko would have thought about the ‘Occupy Wall Street’ movement. A minor distraction perhaps, as it is indeed true that despite many a boom and bust, the great wheels of capitalism have continued turning with ever increasing urgency. And as self interest is at very heart of capitalism, should the world end in 2012, it can be surmised that greed has been mankind’s overarching sin of the last century. Our most serious spiritual issue today is reckless and untamed greed. It is greed that has caused our 2Gs and Adarshes, and their Enrons and Worldcoms. It is greed that is responsible for outlandish CEO salaries and disenfranchised daily wage earners. It is greed that is responsible for endless stress and tensions in our urban jungles. It is greed that is pushing us into becoming a race of clamorous “haves and have mores”. Don’t believe those who say that lust is the deadliest of the seven sins.

Much of the socio-political and economic discontent we see around us today is a result of the demands of today’s corporate machinery for higher growth rates, higher consumption and higher profits at all costs. Corporate culture of the last century has created an environment that persistently compels business captains to earn more and more for themselves and their companies. Like teenagers unwittingly passing a future alcoholic his first beer, lenders and shareholders have enabled this pervasive corporate greed beyond redemption. There was a time that was indeed simpler and life did not revolve around double digit growth rates and credit spreads. But today, we pay with our livelihoods if corporates fail. The 2001 dot com bust, the Asian Financial Crisis and the subprime bust-up are all examples of our companies and banks gone so glass-eyed with greed that they could not see the cliff behind the garden. And millions lost their livelihood as a result even as the suits survived and sometimes even prospered, thanks to the big bailout. So we respond by occupying Wall Street, rioting and generally pressuring our governments into letting the big guys fail. This is capitalism after all isn’t it? But this is not what capitalism set out to achieve. It was supposed to be a meritocracy within limits.

Our quest for more and even more has made it like a free for all shoot out. And we the little guys are equally to blame. The seven billion of us are burning through the planet's resources at a dangerous rate. Consider this - the consumption of goods and services in 2010 was at $30.5 trillion, up almost 30% over the previous year. And this consumerist culture is no longer mostly a western (read American) habit but is clearly spreading across the globe. Material excess has been anointed the new symbol of success in developing countries from Brazil to India to China. China is already the biggest producer of greenhouse gas emissions. And plenty more folks want to be rich, and quickly. In this quest all balance is being dispensed with. Until we recognize that our environmental problems, from climate change to deforestation to species loss, are driven by unsustainable habits, we will not be able to solve the ecological crises that threaten our civilization. Almost 33 million acres of tropical forests are destroyed each year and most of this is as a result of corporate needs. Our rivers are increasingly unable to sustain any form of life in them and swathes of fertile farmland are acquired from unwilling farmers, thereby rendering them fallow in time. And we haven’t yet talked of the Deepwater Horizons and the Bhopals of the world, where, thanks to corporate carelessness, both environmental and human damage were of gargantuan proportions.

We are clearly leaving behind a world much more dangerous than the one we inherited. Obviously, in our single minded approach to have and consume more, we’ve abandoned virtues of balance, frugality and compassion. We are leaving behind massive debt, loss of freedom and liberty and more worryingly, a next generation that that has an insatiable appetite for consumption. If the world does indeed come to an end in 2012, prepare for hell. The Gekkos of the world have had too long a run with “dollars pumped with steroids”, as he so succinctly put it in his return to the big screen last year. If you haven’t caught on, the human race is the biggest bubble right now. And the pinprick is coming.

Cheers!

Abhishek

P.S: This article first appeared in the December 2011 issue of 'KINDLE'

Noon by Aatish Taseer: Book review

2011-11-01T21:42:00.007+08:00

For those familiar with Aatish Taseer’s previous works (Stranger to History and The Templegoers), the material that the undoubtedly talented young author deals with in the mysteriously titled ‘Noon’ will seem all too recognizable. Being the original midnight’s child, so to speak (what with being the son of slain Pakistani politician Salman Taseer and Indian journo Tavleen Singh and all), he is perhaps well equipped to deal with a novel about the elite of both countries. And to do this he once again mines his own life for experiences which come across as all too real. The book’s protagonist, Rehan Tabassum, the authors all too real alterego, deals with a theft in his rich Indian step-dad’s farmhouse in Delhi and then as he moves to Pakistan to meet his real father, meets his many relatives and gets drawn into the morally murky and politically unstable world of his biological father’s family. The book peeks almost voyeuristically into these households in an episodic fashion, rather than in a sweeping continuous narrative, and it is with this tool that he manages to create evocative and poignant imagery.

The episode at the Delhi farmhouse clearly takes a dig at the great ‘India Shining’ story and examines the uneasy class issues that Indian society still grapples with. It also looks at the way the domestic help in the country are treated, and how the rich would prefer that they were almost invisible. Taseer puts Rehan smack bang in the middle of a domestic robbery and then gives the reader a ring side view of investigation. The cops have their class and regional prejudices, and Rehan has his. It is also here that Rehan grudgingly claims to look upon the suspected servants as humans for the first time, with aspirations and dreams of their own. He finds the whole affair, replete with corruption, complicity and violence, hard to deal with and looks for early closure. Clearly, as Rehan thinks, “I had not considered it important to think hard about India”.

The story then cuts to Rehan’s time spent with his half brother in Pakistan. The men grow close to each other as Rehan gets a crash course in family politics, courtesy the great big Tabassum household. The elite in Pakistan have also failed their country, much like their Indian counterparts, and prefer to live cocooned and conspiracy theory ridden lives, ensconcing themselves from the increasing fundamentalism that is slowly and surely taking hold. Rehan’s half brother spends most of his time trying to prove his worth to their father while trying to avoid being blackmailed with a stolen sex tape. This somehow results in a kidnapping and a hushed up release and is eerily similar to the real life kidnapping of Shahbaz Taseer, the author’s own half brother. The book explores the complete breakdown in the social contract between the privileged and the others and how the elite in India and Pakistan remain largely alike in their uncaring aloofness, despite the two countries themselves taking seemingly different paths. Casual brutalities are still commonplace, and the rich are the prime perpetrators.

The book reads well, avoids being laborious and Taseer shows a maturity of hand that is beyond his years. However, one wishes he had set his novel outside the sphere of his personal life, which has been an open book, literally, since he laid it all out in his memoirs. Even his first novel ‘The Temple-goers’ also seemed drawn from his private life. His own life clearly seems to be his comfort zone and it is about time he stepped out of it. Another book with a similar setting could easily run the risk of alienating hitherto impressed readers who perhaps will no longer be interested in a fourth biography.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

This article first appeared in the November 2011 issue of KINDLE.

Stirring the melting pot

2011-10-16T10:54:00.000+08:00

How well do you know your neighbour? There was a time when our neighbours were almost like extended family. We trusted them with our homes, our children and sometimes even with our money. Over the last decade, however, we seem to have lost touch somewhat, especially in the urban set up. Issues like privacy and choice of disclosure are important today and additionally, the hectic pace of urban life does not allow us the space to take the time out to even walk across to say hello. Nonetheless, the need for us to interact with those who live around us has never been more acute, especially in today's globalized, multicultural and multiracial world. Much of what we think of other people is in reality largely an unreliable notion, picked up from internal prejudices or social conditioning. This is precisely why it is important to get to know each other and each other’s cultures better. Tolerance breeds where knowledge and mutual respect are present in good measure. And this was what some Singaporean citizens were trying to achieve recently through the ‘Cook a Pot of Curry Day’.

A local newspaper had recently reported that one Chinese family, recently arrived from the mainland, took serious offence at their Indian neighbours' cooking habits. The family apparently resorted to mediation because they could not stand the smell of curry. The Indian family, who were mindful of their neighbours' aversion to the smell of their favourite dish, had already started closing their doors and windows whenever they cooked the dish, but this did not seem to work as well. Instead, the Chinese family took their neighbours to Singapore's Community Mediation Centre to seek a ruling on the matter. The mediator eventually ruled that the Indian family could only cook curry when the Chinese family was not at home. In return, the Chinese family promised to try the dish. The judgment infuriated most Singaporeans, many of whom have eyed the recent flood of mainland Chinese immigrants with some exasperation. The positive outcome from all of this was an idea for all Singaporeans to host a ‘Cook a Pot of Curry Day’ for their neighbours and friends, as a protest to the insensitive and almost xenophobic tendencies the Chinese family had displayed. The idea went viral, with almost 60,000 locals pledging support on Facebook in a matter of days. The day itself was a huge success, with Singaporeans standing up for an inclusive and compassionate society. I myself was invited to a barbeque meal by my neighbour and was heartened to see the healthy turnout – there were Indians, Malays, Chinese and Caucasians as well. For the first time in many years, I actually spent some quality time with the people I live in close proximity to, but hardly know. The curry, (a local blend of the less spicy variety) was great, but in the end, just an excuse for a wonderful cross cultural exchange. The evening was cordial and genuinely warm, and made even more informal and lively by our gracious host, who by the way, we learnt later, has scaled Mt. Everest… twice. There is now talk amongst citizens, of making this an annual event, and one can’t help but be in complete support.

On one level this event was about getting to know and appreciate each other’s cultures and backgrounds and promote tolerance, and on the other it was actually about just getting out of your house, knocking on your neighbor’s door and saying hello. I can’t help but feel that we in India’s large and increasingly impersonal cities can learn a thing or two from this. When was the last time you introduced yourself to your new neighbour or invited him over for a meal? Our parents did this often enough, but currently we don’t have the time, apparently. Either we’re working too hard or we’re relying entirely on home based entertainment to amuse our selves which takes us away from communicating with one-another on a human level. This means that we as individuals are slowly losing basic communication skills, which will cause us to withdraw into ourselves, and also, more dangerously perhaps, cause festering feelings of separation and loneliness to manifest themselves into something more debilitating. And one can already see the growing physical distances. Yesterday’s ‘adda’ is today’s Blackberry IM and the 140 character tweet. How does this prepare kids and teenagers for tough years that lie ahead? Not very well. More seriously, we clearly still harbor inherent prejudices about our fellow citizens - north Indians are bhaiyas, those from south are Madrasees, those from the north-east are often called ‘Chinese’ and far worse…and so on. The pluralist society our founding fathers envisioned will remain a distant dream if we refuse to interact and understand each other. Living in culturally homogenous ghettos will do us no good. We should be aspiring to a community where everyone, regardless of origin, knows one another well – like the good old days. We can easily make that happen - one hello, one handshake and one footstep at a time. And perhaps, we should be cooking loads more curry.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

This article first appeared in the October 2011 issue of KINDLE.

SuperHeavy (Mick Jagger / Dave Stewart / AR Rahman / Damien Marley / Joss Stone) – Music Review

2011-10-12T00:09:00.005+08:00

Empirically speaking, supergroups have never been particularly successful, either critically or commercially (The Travelling Wilburys and Velvet Revolver notwithstanding). So when Mick Jagger and Dave Stewart put together a band of successful and diverse musicians (Joss Stone, Damien Marley and our very own AR Rahman) and called the band SuperHeavy, one hoped that the band would not collapse under the weight of expectation. This band does manage to do alright, putting together an eclectic bunch of tunes, which as a genre can only be termed as 'indo-reggae-rock'. That said, their debut record never truly manages to soar, seemingly tied down by commercial interests, with the superstar band members getting too self-conscious about their respective musical heritages.

The band apparently recorded 29 hours of music and then whittled the album down to 12 songs. Not all of them are album worthy though, with 'Energy' sounding like something U2 got bored with and passed on to Jagger and Co to play around with (and Jagger makes it worse by rapping on it, believe it or not), and 'Unbelievable' being anything but. Jagger however redeems himself as he leads the vocal efforts with the rasping 'I can't take it anymore' (a track the Stones would have been proud of) and 'I don't mind', an atmospheric duet with Joss Stone. Reggae scion, Damien Marley shows his pedigree in most of the tracks he lends his voice to, with the languid 'Rock me gently' and pulsating album opener 'Superheavy', being standouts. And how does us our Mozart of Madras do, you ask? He largely mumbles through his vocal duties on the album, and comes across as a bit awkward, but it’s his desi string arrangements which, when backed by Stewart's synth sounds and Marley's Jamaican beats and vocals, produce some of the album's best moments. This is abundantly clear on the peppy 'Satyameva Jayate', if you can forgive Jagger's singing in Sanskrit as an act of excessive cross-cultural exuberance.

The band should get ample radio time with the airwave friendly raggae-pop 'Miracle Worker', but otherwise they could have done better than to try too hard. At times the sound comes across as too orchestrated, with the producer going, "hmm, ok, we've had some rap, here's some soul, and now we'll have some of that Bollywood stuff". The lineup is as culturally varied as you can get, the talent is grade A, (barring Joss Stone's sometimes one dimensional crooning), but the result in the end is at best middling. The record does hold some novelty value, but I fear that will quickly wear off on the second and third hearings. And this is why this band should definitely come up with another album. To spend more time together, to get more comfortable with each other's styles and to express themselves more freely. Now that would be super heavy.

3/5

Cheers!
Abhishek.

Are jobs obsolete?

2011-10-10T00:18:00.002+08:00

Douglas Rushkoff asks if 'jobs' in the traditional sense should be becoming obsolete. This is interesting because the western world is throwing whatever its got at the big 'jobs' problem. If you think like Doug here though, it is apparently time we re-imagined what productive work was all about and stopped making a huge fuss. Interesting. Read on.

The U.S. Postal Service appears to be the latest casualty in digital technology's slow but steady replacement of working humans. Unless an external source of funding comes in, the post office will have to scale back its operations drastically, or simply shut down altogether. That's 600,000 people who would be out of work, and another 480,000 pensioners facing an adjustment in terms.

We can blame a right wing attempting to undermine labor, or a left wing trying to preserve unions in the face of government and corporate cutbacks. But the real culprit - at least in this case - is e-mail. People are sending 22% fewer pieces of mail than they did four years ago, opting for electronic bill payment and other net-enabled means of communication over envelopes and stamps.

New technologies are wreaking havoc on employment figures - from EZpasses ousting toll collectors to Google-controlled self-driving automobiles rendering taxicab drivers obsolete. Every new computer program is basically doing some task that a person used to do. But the computer usually does it faster, more accurately, for less money, and without any health insurance costs.

We like to believe that the appropriate response is to train humans for higher level work. Instead of collecting tolls, the trained worker will fix and program toll-collecting robots. But it never really works out that way, since not as many people are needed to make the robots as the robots replace.

And so the president goes on television telling us that the big issue of our time is jobs, jobs, jobs - as if the reason to build high-speed rails and fix bridges is to put people back to work. But it seems to me there's something backwards in that logic. I find myself wondering if we may be accepting a premise that deserves to be questioned.

I am afraid to even ask this, but since when is unemployment really a problem? I understand we all want paychecks -- or at least money. We want food, shelter, clothing, and all the things that money buys us. But do we all really want jobs?

We're living in an economy where productivity is no longer the goal, employment is. That's because, on a very fundamental level, we have pretty much everything we need. America is productive enough that it could probably shelter, feed, educate, and even provide health care for its entire population with just a fraction of us actually working.

According to the U.N. Food and Agriculture Organization, there is enough food produced to provide everyone in the world with 2,720 kilocalories per person per day. And that's even after America disposes of thousands of tons of crop and dairy just to keep market prices high. Meanwhile, American banks overloaded with foreclosed properties are demolishing vacant dwellings to get the empty houses off their books.

Our problem is not that we don't have enough stuff -- it's that we don't have enough ways for people to work and prove that they deserve this stuff.

Jobs, as such, are a relatively new concept. People may have always worked, but until the advent of the corporation in the early Renaissance, most people just worked for themselves. They made shoes, plucked chickens, or created value in some way for other people, who then traded or paid for those goods and services. By the late Middle Ages, most of Europe was thriving under this arrangement.

The only ones losing wealth were the aristocracy, who depended on their titles to extract money from those who worked. And so they invented the chartered monopoly. By law, small businesses in most major industries were shut down and people had to work for officially sanctioned corporations instead. From then on, for most of us, working came to mean getting a "job."

The Industrial Age was largely about making those jobs as menial and unskilled as possible. Technologies such as the assembly line were less important for making production faster than for making it cheaper, and laborers more replaceable. Now that we're in the digital age, we're using technology the same way: to increase efficiency, lay off more people, and increase corporate profits.

While this is certainly bad for workers (an artificial construction, in my opinion, such as "slaves" "peasants" "aristocracy" "serfs" - that can be transcended as our relationship to work and consumption changes, and we no longer consider ourselves "consumers" or "workers" or "management", which are all artifacts of the Industrial Age. You are not a worker; you are a person.) and unions, I have to wonder just how truly bad is it for people. Isn't this what all this technology was for in the first place? The question we have to begin to ask ourselves is not how do we employ all the people who are rendered obsolete by technology, but how can we organize a society around something other than employment? Might the spirit of enterprise we currently associate with "career" be shifted to something entirely more collaborative, purposeful, and even meaningful?

Instead, we are attempting to use the logic of a scarce marketplace to negotiate things that are actually in abundance. What we lack is not employment, but a way of fairly distributing the bounty we have generated through our technologies, and a way of creating meaning in a world that has already produced far too much stuff.

The communist answer to this question was just to distribute everything evenly. But that sapped motivation and never quite worked as advertised. The opposite, libertarian answer (and the way we seem to be going right now) would be to let those who can't capitalize on the bounty simply suffer. Cut social services along with their jobs, and hope they fade into the distance.

But there might still be another possibility -- something we couldn't really imagine for ourselves until the digital era. As a pioneer of virtual reality, Jaron Lanier, recently pointed out, we no longer need to make stuff in order to make money. We can instead exchange information-based products.

We start by accepting that food and shelter are basic human rights. The work we do - the value we create - is for the rest of what we want: the stuff that makes life fun, meaningful, and purposeful.

This sort of work isn't so much employment as it is creative activity. Unlike Industrial Age employment, digital production can be done from the home, independently, and even in a peer-to-peer fashion without going through big corporations. We can make games for each other, write books, solve problems, educate and inspire one another - all through bits instead of stuff. And we can pay one another using the same money we use to buy real stuff.

For the time being, as we contend with what appears to be a global economic slowdown by destroying food and demolishing homes, we might want to stop thinking about jobs as the main aspect of our lives that we want to save. They may be a means, but they are not the ends.

Cheers!

Abhishek

For... my son

2011-09-02T21:30:00.004+08:00

A careful man I ought to be,
A little fellow follows me.
I dare not go astray,
For fear he'll go the self-same way.

I cannot once escape his eyes,
Whatever he see me do, he tries.
Like me, he says, he's going to be,
The little chap who follows me.

He thinks that I am good and fine,
Believes in every word of mine.
The base in me he must not see,
That little fellow who follows me.

I must remember as I go,
Thru summers' sun and winters' snow.
I am building for the years to be,
In the little chap who follows me.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

On happiness - Khushwant Singh

2011-08-22T19:26:00.011+08:00

Image via Wikipedia
India's grand old man of letters has lived a long, eventful and fulfilling life. So when he talks about what happiness means to him, it's worth listening to. This is taken from a chapter from his book, 'Absolute Khushwant'. In the hustle-bustle of daily life, we can sometimes forget how little we really need to be content.

First and foremost is good health. If you do not enjoy good health, you can never be happy. Any ailment, however trivial, will deduct something from your happiness.

Second, a healthy bank balance. It need not run into crores, but it should be enough to provide for comforts, and there should be something to spare for recreation—eating out, going to the movies, travel and holidays in the hills or by the sea. Shortage of money can be demoralising. Living on credit or borrowing is demeaning and lowers one in one’s own eyes.

Third, your own home. Rented places can never give you the comfort or security of a home that is yours for keeps. If it has garden space, all the better. Plant your own trees and flowers, see them grow and blossom, and cultivate a sense of kinship with them.

Fourth, an understanding companion, be it your spouse or a friend. If you have too many misunderstandings, it robs you of your peace of mind. It is better to be divorced than to be quarrelling all the time.

Fifth, stop envying those who have done better than you in life—risen higher, made more money, or earned more fame. Envy can be corroding; avoid comparing yourself with others.

Sixth, do not allow people to descend on you for gup-shup. By the time you get rid of them, you will feel exhausted and poisoned by their gossip-mongering.

Seventh, cultivate a hobby or two that will fulfil you—gardening, reading, writing, painting, playing or listening to music. Going to clubs or parties to get free drinks, or to meet celebrities, is a criminal waste of time. It’s important to concentrate on something that keeps you occupied meaningfully. I have family members and friends who spend their entire day caring for stray dogs, giving them food and medicines. There are others who run mobile clinics, treating sick people and animals free of charge.

Eighth, every morning and evening devote 15 minutes to introspection. In the mornings, 10 minutes should be spent in keeping the mind absolutely still, and five listing the things you have to do that day. In the evenings, five minutes should be set aside to keep the mind still and 10 to go over the tasks you had intended to do.

Ninth, don’t lose your temper. Try not to be short-tempered, or vengeful. Even when a friend has been rude, just move on.

Above all, when the time comes to go, one should go like a man without any regret or grievance against anyone. Iqbal said it beautifully in a couplet in Persian: “You ask me about the signs of a man of faith? When death comes to him, he has a smile on his lips.”

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Graft craft

2011-06-29T21:15:00.002+08:00

Image via Wikipedia

To say that India's black money problem is a gargantuan one is stating but the obvious, but when some estimates peg the quantum of the parallel economy at USD1.4 trillion, it forces you to sit back and take notice. Remember Jim Carey in 'The Mask'? It’s almost as eyepopping, and then some. It’s a figure larger than the GDP of the country. Much of this wealth sits happily ensconced in tax havens and private banks, safe from prying Governments. While the Indian establishment tries its hardest to get its hands on some of this ill-gotten wealth (even recovering some part of it might significantly ease the country's fiscal imbalance), and even persecutes millionaire studfarm owner, Hasan Ali, not much headway has actually been made. And it’s unreasonable to expect any immediate results - some suggest another Voluntary Disclosure Scheme as a quick fix remedy, but that runs the risk of legitimizing the very scourge from which we need such an urgent cure. And the remedy must necessarily come from directly within the principal players in this sordid drama.

First, the government. It’s not particularly difficult to see why we have such a massive problem on hand. Clean business and clean money both need a clean financial and political ecosystem to flourish and circulate in, respectively. India clearly does not provide that ecosystem. The culture of corruption and gratification runs deep, so much so, that someone doing an honest day's work is looked upon with incredulity. So whereas in developed countries, while corruption exists, it seldom affects day to day life, in India it is all pervading and omnipresent, right from the traffic signal to the parliament. Successive governments have failed to show any degree of political will in tackling the problem and have never been close to showing zero tolerance for corruption. The current lot doesn’t even have disruptive coalition constraints to contend with, yet they have presided over the most damning series of scandals in memory. Clearly no one at the heart of government has been interested in reading out the riot act. And meanwhile...Rome burns. Some shrug and blame offshore havens, but it is important to note that we do have financial treaties with many of these jurisdictions, and the need of the hour is for us to work in more teeth into these treaties so that we can wield more than the current degree of power we possess to go after misappropriated funds hidden there.

An oft forgotten contributor to this problem is the private sector. It is easy to miss part that banks, tax evading corporations and greedy businessmen/professionals play in this monetary circus. Rich and unwilling to pay those worthless taxes with your hard earned rupee? You are almost certain to find an eager private banker willing to provide comprehensive 'solutions' to help you meet your needs. It is still not uncommon to overhear private bankers discussing customers walking in with suitcases full of cash. The profit motive in the private sector allows money, both legitimate and tainted, to escape the system, with willing customers ready to fork out hefty management fees to maintain the tax free status of their cash, which remains safe in complicated financial structures in off shore tax havens. In this regard, stricter Anti - Money Laundering legislation needs to be enforced and sometimes tenacious measures need to be taken against the big financial institutions, as seen in the case of the United States going after UBS AG. While most such institutions tend to remain on guard when it comes to links with drug money or possible terrorist funding, there remains a tendency to go soft when it comes to the rather vanilla issue of tax evasion. There are clear examples of willful collusion and examples need to be made of some of these 'reputable' names. Our rapacious capitalism, regardless of its nature, still needs to have morals, and just as the financial system seems to have learned from the 2008 financial meltdown (or has it?), we need to draw lessons from the constant use of the financial system both as a conduit for money laundering as well as a feeder of bureaucratic greed and tighten the gaps, fast.

The third and final corrective measure that needs to be put in place is one that needs to be directed towards ourselves. We cannot live as a nation of hypocrites. On one hand we pay lip service to Anna Hazare's or Baba Ramdev’s anti-corruption fasts, and on the other, we don't think twice before bribing the neighborhood policeman to escape a misdemeanor, a government clerk to move our file or the tax inspector scrutinizing our returns. We must remember that for every hand that takes, there is a hand that gives. And it is here that the bacterium of black money germinates, everything else is just a matter of scale and detail. We need to stop giving and we need to show patience. Only sustained action can lead to any sort of seismic shift in our embedded graft culture. While this might not bring back the billions already lost, it will at least help reduce this malaise in the ambit of our daily life. And that will be a significant battle won.

This article first appeared in the July 2011 edition of KINDLE

Cheers!

Abhishek

Looking for inspiration

2011-06-18T23:22:00.005+08:00

There are numerous little things all around us that can help our state of mind when we feel stressed, depressed or just plain fed-up with our daily 9 to 5. While feeling grumpy is easy enough, inspiration to dust yourself off and seize the moment is omnipresent. I list but five things that have inspired me recently.

1. Mamata Banerjee. She fought the CPI(M) for over 20 years. She had her skull cracked open, legs broken and teeth smashed. Regardless, she carried on as the lead political opposition to one of the most entrenched electoral machineries anywhere in the world. Armed only with raw courage, immense patience and the fight of a pitbull, she finally overcame after a two-decade struggle. And won. Love her or hate her, she inspires. True grit, if you ever saw it.

2. My son. It's interesting to watch a toddler learn and grow. My naughty little boy goes hard at the simple things - like trying to count from one to ten, or climbing up onto the bed, or eating his lunch himself. If a little fella can put in so much effort into small little things, I'm sure so can we.

3. 2nd April 2011. Where were you? I was right in front of a giant TV screen biting my nails. And then Mahendra Singh Dhoni sized one up from Nuwan Kulasekara and clouted it over long on for six. And then watched is sail into the stands, with a nonchalant twirl of his bat. And a nation erupted in joy and tears. An image for a generation.

4. Rocky Balboa (2006). The man's still got it. Sample this - "Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. It's a very mean and nasty place and I don't care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain't about how hard ya hit. It's about how hard you can get it and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done!". A heck of a 'punch'-line.

5. The Ajmer beggar. A beggar in Ajmer died with a bounty of a few lakhs of rupees in currency notes on his person. He died rich, in my view. A lifetime in poverty had ended in prosperity. While it's a pity he did not live longer to enjoy his wealth, it's a testament to the power of saving, frugality and discipline. It's hard not to get distracted with the latest gazillion-inch HDD 3D panel and the newest I-whatever. But keep at it and in the end, you'll be better off.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

The Last Nizam : Book review

2011-06-16T21:43:00.005+08:00

John Zubrzycki, an Australian journalist, has good knowledge of India, her history and the myriad ways in which she works. It is therefore no surprise that he comes up with a convincing, gripping and insightful account of a man and a dynasty that's not written about very much.

The book charts the saga of the fabulously wealthy Nizams of Hyderabad, and initially outlines Indian history from the end of the Mughal period. These sections could appear a bit dry to some, and they delve into the dynamics of the relationship of the British administration of the time with the many princely states. Nonetheless, these pages succeed in involving the reader and in providing a sound base for what is to follow. Things get particularly interesting when the book begins to detail the life and times of the seventh and penultimate Nizam (also the richest man in the world at the time, whose collection of jewels alone could fill a couple of Olympic sized swimming pools), a somewhat eccentric and endearing creature, whose tales of thrift were legendary. He nominated Mukkaram Jah, his grandson as the next (and as it turned out, last) Nizam, bypassing his extravagant and distracted sons. Mukkaram Jah himself is a bit of a recluse, who now lives in anonymity in Turkey, and is the ultimate tragi-comic hero. Jawaharlal Nehru wanted the genteel, well heeled Oxbridge product in government, but he refused. He spent his initial years attempting to unravel his inheritance, which was perhaps at the time the largest going around, worth many hundreds of millions of dollars. It proved too much of a task for him and he succumbed to the hundreds of court cases from numerous relatives who wanted shares in his grandfather's property. Mukkaram then moved to Australia for many years, attempting to remodel himself into a gentleman farmer, purchasing a massive ranch. But a good manager and businessman he was not and the ranch proved financially unviable, running up huge losses and ultimately shutting down in the 90s.

The book, littered with many fascinating and curious characters, serves as reminder that great wealth can sometimes serve up great pain. Much of the Nizam's massive fortune has been squandered by his grandson, lost or sold by corrupt and opportunistic relatives or smuggled out of the country by covetous family retainers. The last Nizam, for all his education, remained an elitist who couldn't be bothered to get his hands dirty himself, and always relied on the advise of others, a sure recipe for disaster. "I know I am the Nizam of Hyderabad", he once told The West Australian, "and that's all that matters". He still has great pride in his roots and in this ancestry. Now alone and reclusive, that's all he seems to have left. The book is also a peek into the grandiose, graceful and glorious world of the once powerful Nizams, and its a world that's escaped mainstream historical attention. 'The Last Nizam' goes some distance in attempting to correct this injustice.

Cheers!
Abhishek.

Ganguly and the art of taking a risk

2011-05-25T22:38:00.007+08:00

Mohammed Ali said that the test of a true champion was always finding that extra something in the tank regardless of how beat up you were, to rise for one last time to deliver the knockout punch. Sourav Ganguly had fulfilled Ali's condition of greatness since his return to the test arena in the post Chappell era. He had been dropped from a team he had helped shape, returned on the sheer weight of domestic runs, and delivered the sucker punch by being one of its most consistent batsmen since his return. His saga had therefore seen a fulfilling end. Or so we thought. But with Ganguly there are always epilogues. When fans and opinion makers insisted he hang up his boots, he tossed his (rather expensive) hat into the IPL ring. Strangely he didn't get picked. Among the reasons bandied about regarding his exclusion was the one about him being viewed as a 'difficult' one to deal with in the dressing-room. But one suspects an inability or unwillingness on the part of the franchises to risk harnessing his multiple utilities as leader, destroyer of spin bowlers and useful dibbly-dobbly bowler. Somewhere, one reckons, the snub rankled and the need arose to rise up again to KO the naysayers.

Being a Ganguly fan is like being on a roller coaster ride of raw emotion. He ensures he takes you through every high and low and perhaps through everything in between. Just as you wipe the sweat off your brow and say phew, having reached a level of emotional equilibrium, he's back to disturb the pulse meter. One hoped for a couple of vintage 'dada' performances, destined to shame SRK and KKR into regret. But there was no last hurrah to Ganguly's IPL return. Drafted into a beleaguered and already eliminated Pune outfit, those contributions never came. A scratchy unbeaten 30-odd in a winning cause and a naught in the next game are nothing to write home about. There were no dance-downs to the spinners and no trademark off-side drives. Only a string of match winning turns could have redeemed him. And now he risks never being picked again on the basis of performance. The gamble had been taken and it hadn't paid off.

Does this take anything away from the man's aura? Does it reduce him to league of desperate sportsmen, hanging on to the arc-lights ignorant that both skill and drive have long since been missing? No. While this is certainly not the finale neither he nor his fans were hoping for, there were some valuable reinforcements of all that has made him a man who commanded admiration and respect even from his worst detractors. Foremost of these were his inherent ability to take risks and his enormous self belief, both essential leadership traits. In his playing days, he regularly gambled with fresh talent instead of investing in the tried and tested. Just ask Yuvraj Singh, Harbhajan Singh or Zaheer Khan. He then entered the glitzy world of the fickle arclight with a successful Bengali TV game show. He believed he could still make a difference on the field and that prodded him on to stand by his decision to play even after his auction snub. He believed he belonged in the arena and in the first innings he played in the IPL, he showed he did, carrying his side home to victory. Taking a risk and believing in oneself can sometimes be the same thing, any difference being only an issue of perspective. The franchises seemed to shy away, but Ganguly had gumption to forget about the consequences. His one failure in the tournament will not take anything away from his legend. While Ganguly's return may seem to many as ill-advised, there is no other way that he knows to conduct himself. And that needs to be respected and admired. There is no doubt that risk taking is scary. Success in the IPL would have enhanced Ganguly's standing as the ultimate comeback man, a true champion and a fighter who could never be put down. Failure, he knew, would lead to heaps of 'I said he wasn't good enoughs' and a diminished reputation. It is important to note how he seemed to effortlessly move through it all, energized by the challenge, glaring at self-doubt, risking it all, once again. And there lies the true worth of a champion. We can quibble with the end result, but sometimes there is so much in the journey that we can all learn from.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Dum Maaro Dum : Movie review

2011-04-25T20:55:00.004+08:00

'Dum Maro Dum' is satisfactory cops and robbers fare, held together largely by Goa's visual charm and Junior Bachchan's smoldering cop act. But its difficult to be completely susegaad watching a possible cracker of a thriller degenerate into a predictable chor police tamasha. There are multiple story-lines here, one of a gullible teenager being sucked into the drug trade, one of a musician seeking redemption and one of an ambitious career girl choosing the easy way out to success. And then there is the bad ass cop out to bust Goa's big bad drug mafia, in a final attempt at honor.

The film relies on snazzy editing, edgy music and fast paced set pieces and it starts having the desired effect in only the second half of the film, but the climax drags on for longer than necessary (Sippy should have learned from his previous outing 'Bluffmaster'). Also, the fact that the film is denied a strong antagonist is a constant niggle. Aditya Pancholi's drug baron turn is just not effective enough (did Nana Patekar say no?) to make the bad versus badder battle engaging. The enterprise gets most other things right though, in terms of music (the 'potty' lyrics notwithstanding), casting (with the possible exception of Telugu star Rana Daggubati) and setting.

Prateik Babbar displays his acting chops yet again in the limited scope he gets, though his role is certainly no special appearance as it is credited. Bipasha Basu is passable and Rana Daggubati brings presence but little else. The support cast does a fine job as does Abhishek Bachchan, who should clearly be playing more cops to resurrect his flagging career. Vidya Balan's fleeting cameo as Abhishek's wife is unnecessary, but they do make a fine couple. As mentioned, the bad guy is the biggest let down. Aditya Pancholi tries hard (screams, laughs evil, spits and even catches a rat) but fails to pass muster as our very own desi Alejandro Sosa.

The film is high on style and attitude, and low on depth. But I suppose it didn't intend to be the gold standard in cinematic layering in the first place. So if you're stone dead bored with the constant drone of the IPL on the telly, give this a go and I'm certain it will make a worthy distraction.

3/5

Cheers!
Abhishek.

And we're back...

2011-04-22T11:03:00.007+08:00

Image via Wikipedia
...after a longish break from Calcutta. A near perfect trip, complete with consumption of a few quintals of river fish, lazy afternoons, light shopping, usual family brouhahas and India's World Cup win. The cherry on the cake would have been my very own Amit Trivedi soundtrack to go with it. But then, we never can have it all.

A few observations -

- Calcutta is getting increasingly expensive. I often imagine what life would be should we relocate, and amidst that process tend to over-romanticise the place. But just walk into a shopping mall, or any smaller bazaar for that matter, and the reality of a much higher cost of living hits you fresh in the face. Food, home furnishings, property, domestic help, fuel, utilities, schooling etc. Calculating a monthly expenditure list is, err... scary. Nonetheless, you're better off than folks in Mumbai, Bangalore and Delhi, if that's any comfort.

- India won the World Cup 2011. I was too young to remember the 1983 win, and will savor the image of Dhoni clouting that six over long-on for a long time. The celebrations went on long and hard. In some cases too hard. For a sport that is played seriously in only a dozen countries, the tamasha sometimes seemed way over the top. Some TV pundits compared it with Brazil winning the Soccer World Cup, but really... it isn't the same thing! We need to celebrate, but the tendency of making cricket a metaphor for national pride is dangerous and unnecessary.

- I lost the 'book-shop battle', as I call it, yet again. This basically involves entering and exiting a bookshop without making a purchase. I did end up buying a few items, which is a now a constant source of mild guilt. But one purchase I am entirely 'buh-lah-zay' about, is a 21 DVD limited edition set of the complete adventures of TinTin. My one year old enjoys watching them along with us as well.

- Bengal goes to the hustings soon, in what could be a watershed election. Three decades of red rule could finally be coming to an end. Most people have already written the incumbents off for good. While Mamata Banerjee couldn't do much worse than the current lot, I am generally not entirely convinced Bengal will fly with her at the helm (she is currently not much more than a well meaning rabble rouser... governance will test her capabilities to the hilt). Again, the people of Bengal are faced with a serious paucity of political alternatives, but this time it looks like they just might go with the next best thing.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Balraj Sahni's India

2011-04-16T16:12:00.002+08:00

Image via WikipediaConvocation Address delivered by Balraj Sahni at Jawaharlal Nehru University in 1972. Much of what he talks about is perhaps still relevant to India circa 2011, hence I reproduce this here from the JNUTA website.

About 20 years ago, the Calcutta Film Journalists' Association decided to honour the late Bimal Roy, the maker of Do Bigha Zameen, and us, his colleagues. It was a simple but tasteful ceremony. Many good speeches were made, but the listeners were waiting anxiously to hear Bimal Roy. We were all sitting on the floor, and I was next to Bimal Da. I could see that as his turn approached he became increasingly nervous and restless. And when his turn came he got up, folded his hands and said, “Whatever I have to say, I say it in my films. I have nothing more to say,” and sat down.

There is a lot in what Bimal Da did, and at this moment my greatest temptation is to follow his example. The fact that I am not doing so is due solely to the profound regard I have for the name which this august institution bears; and the regard I have for yet another person, Shri P.C. Joshi, who is associated with your university. I owe to him some of the greatest moments of my life, a debt which I can never repay. That is why when I received an invitation to speak on this occasion, I found it impossible to refuse. If you had invited me to sweep your doorstep I would have felt equally happy and honoured. Perhaps that service would have been more equal to my merit.

Please do not misunderstand me. I am not trying to be modest. Whatever I said was from my heart and whatever I shall say further on will also be from my heart, whether you find it agreeable and in accordance with the tradition and spirit of such occasions or otherwise. As you may know, I have been out of touch with the academic world for more than a quarter of a century. I have never addressed a University Convocation before.

It would not be out of place to mention that the severance of my contact with your world has not been voluntary. It has been due to the special conditions of film making in our country. Our little film world either offers the actor too little work, forcing him to eat his heart out in idleness; or gives him too much —so much that he gets cut off from all other currents of life. Not only does he sacrifice the pleasures of normal family life, but he also has to ignore his intellectual and spiritual needs. In the last 25 years I have worked in more than one 125 films. In the same period a contemporary European or American actor would have done 30 or 35. From this you can imagine what a large part of my life lies buried in strips of celluloid. A vast number of books which I should have read, I have not been able to read. So many events I should have taken part in, have passed me by. Sometimes I feel terribly left behind. And the frustration increases when I ask myself: How many of these 125 films had anything significant in them? How many have any claim to be remembered? Perhaps a few. They could be counted on the fingers of one hand. And even they have either been forgotten already or will be, quite soon.

That is why I said I was not being modest. I was only giving a warning, so that in the event of my disappointing you, you should be able to forgive me. Bimal Roy was right. The artist's domain is his work. So, since I must speak, I must confine myself to my own experience to what I have observed and felt, and wish to communicate. To go outside that would be pompous and foolish.

I'd like to tell you about an incident which took place in my college days and which I have never been able to forget. It has left a permanent impression on my mind.

I was going by bus from Rawalpindi to Kashmir with my family to enjoy the summer vacation. Half-way through, we were halted because a big chunk of the road had been swept away by a landslide caused by rain the previous night. We joined the long queues of buses and cars on either side of the landslide. Impatiently, we waited for the road to clear. It was a difficult job for the PWD and it took some days before they could cut a passage through. During all this time, the passengers and the drivers of vehicles made a difficult situation even more difficult by their impatience and constant demonstration. Even the villagers nearby got fed up with the high-handed behavior of the city-walas.One morning, the overseer declared the road open. The green- flag was waved to the drivers. But we saw a strange sight. No driver was willing to be the first to cross. They just stood and stared at each other from either side. No doubt the road was a make-shift one and even dangerous. A mountain on one side, and a deep gorge and the river below. Both were forbidding. The overseer had made a careful inspection and had opened the road with a full sense of responsibility. But nobody was prepared to trust his judgment, although these very people had, till the day before, accused him and his department of laziness and incompetence. Half an hour passed by in dumb silence. Nobody moved. Suddenly, we saw a small green sports car approaching. An Englishman was driving it; sitting all by himself. He was a bit surprised to see so many parked vehicles and the crowd there. I was rather conspicuous, wearing my smart jacket and trousers. "What's happened?" he asked me.

I told him the whole story. He laughed loudly, blew the horn and went straight ahead, crossing the dangerous portion without the least hesitation. And now the pendulum swung the other way. Every body was so eager to cross that they got into each other's way and created a new confusion for some time. The noise of hundreds of engines and hundreds of horns was unbearable.

That day I saw with my own eyes the difference in attitudes between a man brought up in a free country and a man brought up in an enslaved one. A free man has the power to think, decide, and act for himself. But the slave loses that power. He always borrows his thinking from others, wavers in his decisions, and more often than not only takes the trodden path. I learnt a lesson from this incident, which has been valuable to me. I made it a test for my own life. In the course of my life, whenever I have been able to make my own crucial decisions, I have been happy. I have felt the breath of freedom on my face. I have called myself a free man. My spirit has soared high and I have enjoyed life because I have felt there is meaning to life. But, to be frank, such occasions have been too few. More often than not I had lost courage at the crucial moment, and taken shelter under the wisdom of other people. I had taken the safer path. I made decisions which were expected of me by my family, by the bourgeois class to which I belonged, and the set of values upheld by them. I thought one way but acted in another. For this reason, afterwards I have felt rotten. Some decisions have proved ruinous in terms of human happiness. Whenever I lost courage, my life became a meaningless burden. I told you about an Englishman. I think that in itself is symptomatic of the sense of inferiority that I felt at that time. I could have given you the example of Sardar Bhagat Singh who went to the gallows the same year. I could have given you the example of Mahatma Gandhi who always had the courage to decide for himself. I remember how my college professors and the wise respectable people of my home town shook their heads over the folly of Mahatma Gandhi, who thought he could defeat the most powerful empire on earth with his utopian principles of truth and non-violence. I think less than one per cent of the people of my city dreamt that they would see India free in their lifetime. But Mahatma Gandhi had faith in himself, in his country, and his people. Some of you may have seen a painting of Gandhiji done by Nandlal Bose. It is the picture of a man who has the courage to think and act for himself.

During my college days I was not influenced by Bhagat Singh or Mahatma Gandhi. I was doing my MA in English literature from the most magnificent educational institution in the Punjab— the Government College in Lahore. Only the very best students were admitted to that college. After independence my fellow students have achieved the highest positions in India and Pakistan, both in the government and society. But, to gain admission to this college we had to give a written undertaking that we would take no interest in any political movement—which at that time meant the freedom movement.

This year we are celebrating the twenty-fifth anniversary of our independence. But can we honestly say that we have got rid of our slavish mentality—our inferiority complex?

Can we claim that at the personal, social, or institutional level, our thinking, our decisions, or even our actions are our own and not borrowed? Are we really free in the spiritual sense? Can we dare to think and act for ourselves, or do we merely pretend to do so—merely make a superficial show of independence?

I should like to draw your attention to the film industry to which I belong. I know a great many of our films are such that the very mention of them would raise a laugh among you. In the eyes of educated intelligent people, Hindi films are nothing but a tamasha. Their stories are childish, unreal, and illogical. But their worst fault, you will agree with me, is that their plots, their technique, their songs and dances, betray blind, unimaginative, and unabashed copying of films from the west. There have been Hindi films which have been copied in every detail from some foreign film. No wonder that you young people laugh at us, even though some of you may dream of becoming stars yourselves. It is not easy for me to laugh at Hindi films. I earn my bread from them. They have brought me plenty of fame and wealth. To some extent at least, I owe to Hindi films the high honour which you have given me today.When I was a student like you, our teachers, both English and Non-English, tried to convince us in diverse ways that the fine arts were a prerogative of white people. Great films, great drama, great acting, great painting, etc., were only possible in Europe and America. The Indian people, their language and culture, were as yet too crude and backward for real artistic expression. We used to feel bitter about this and we resented it outwardly: but inwardly we could not help accepting this judgment.

The picture has changed vastly since then. After independence India has made a tremendous recovery in every branch of the arts. In the field of film making, names like Satyajit Ray and Bimal Roy stand out as international personalities. Many of our artistes, cameramen and technicians compare with the best anywhere in the world. Before independence we hardly made ten or fifteen films worth the name. Today we are the biggest film producing country in the world. Not only are our films immensely popular with the masses in our own country, but also in Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, the Eastern Republics of the Soviet Union; Egypt, and other Arab countries in the Far East and many African countries. We have broken the monopoly of Hollywood in this field. Even from the aspect of social responsibility, our Indian films have not yet degenerated to the low level to which some of the western countries have descended. The film producer in India has not yet exploited sex and crime for the sake of profit to the extent that his American counterpart has been doing for years and years-thus creating a serious social problem for that country.

But all these assets are negated by our one overwhelming fault—that we are imitators and copyists. This one fault makes us the laughing stock of intelligent people everywhere. We make films according to borrowed, outdated formulas. We do not have the courage to strike out on our own, to get to grips with the reality of our own country, to present it convincingly and according to our own genius. I say this not only in relation to the usual Hindi or Tamil box office films. I make this complaint against our so-called progressive and experimental films also, whether they be in Bengali, Hindi, or Malayalam. I do not lag behind anyone else in admiring the work of Satyajit Ray, Mrinal Sen, Sukhdev, Basu Bhattacharjee, or Rajinder Singh Bedi. I know they are highly and deservingly respected; but even then I cannot help saying that the winds of fashion in Italy, France, Sweden, Poland, or Czechoslovakia have an immediate effect on their work. They do break new ground, but only after someone else has broken it. In the literary world, in which I have considerable interest, I see the same picture. Our novelists, story writers, and poets are carried away with the greatest of ease by the currents of fashion in Europe, although Europe, with the exception of the Soviet Union perhaps, is not yet even aware of Indian writing. For example, in my own province of the Punjab there is a wave of protest among young poets against the existing social order. Their poetry exhorts the people to rebel against it, to shatter it and build a better world free from corruption, injustice, and exploitation. One cannot but endorse that spirit wholeheartedly, because, without question, the present social order needs changing.

The content of this poetry is most admirable, but the form is not indigenous. It is borrowed from the west. The west has discarded meter and rhyme, so our Punjabi poet must also discard it. He must also use involved and ultra-radical imagery. The result is that the sound and fury remains only on paper, confined to small, mutually admiring literary circles. The people, the workers and the peasants who are being exhorted to revolution, cannot make head or tail of this kind of poetry. It just leaves them cold and per The content of this poetry is most admirable, but the form is not indigenous. It is borrowed from the west. The west has discarded meter and rhyme, so our Punjabi poet must also discard it. He must also use involved and ultra-radical imagery. The result is that the sound and fury remains only on paper, confined to small, mutually admiring literary circles. The people, the workers and the peasants who are being exhorted to revolution, cannot make head or tail of this kind of poetry. It just leaves them cold and perplexed. I don't think I am wrong if I say that other Indian languages too are in the grip of "new wave" poetry.

I know next to nothing about painting. I can't judge a good one from a bad one. But I have noticed that in this sphere also our painters conform to current fashions abroad. Very few have the courage to swim against the tide.And what about the academic world? I invite you to I look into the mirror. If you laugh at Hindi films, maybe you are tempted to laugh at yourselves. This year my own province honoured me by nominating me to the senate of Guru Nanak university. When the invitation to attend the first meeting came, I happened to be in the Punjab, wandering around in some villages near Preet Nagar—the cultural centre founded by our great writer S. Gurbakhsh Singh. During the evening's gossip I told my villager friends that I was to go to Amritsar to attend this meeting and if anyone wanted a lift in my car he was welcome. At this one of the company said, "Here among us you go about dressed in tehmat-kurta, peasant fashion; but tomorrow you will put on your suit and become Sahib Bahadur again." "Why," I said laughingly, "if you want I will go dressed just like this." "You will never dare," another one said. "Our sarpanch Sahib here removes his tehmat and puts on a pyjama whenever he has to go to the city on official work. He has to do it, otherwise, he says, he is not respected. How can yon go peasant-fashion to such a big university?" A jawan who had come home on leave for the rice sowing added, "Our sarpanch is a coward. In cities even girls go about wearing lungis these days. Why should he not be respected?"

The gossip went on, and, as if to accept their challenge, I did make my appearance in the Senate meeting in tehmat-kurta. The sensation I created was beyond my expectation. The officer—perhaps, professor—who was handing out the gowns in the vestibule could not recognize me at first. When he did he could not hide his amusement, "Mr Sahni, with the tehmat you should have worn khosas—not shoes," he said, while putting the gown over my shoulders. "I shall be careful next time," I said apologetically and moved on. But a moment later I asked myself, was it not bad manners for the professor to notice or comment on my dress? Why did I not point this out to him? I felt peeved over my slow-wittedness.

After the meeting we went over to meet the students. Their amusement was even greater and more eloquent. Many of them could not help laughing at the fact that I was wearing shoes with a tehmat. That they were wearing chappals with trousers seemed nothing extraordinary to them.

You must wonder why I am wasting your time narrating such trivial incidents. But look at it from the point of view of the Punjabi peasant. We are all full of admiration for his contribution to the green revolution. He is the backbone of our armed forces. How must he feel when his dress or his way of life is treated as a matter of amusement?

It is well-known in the Punjab that as soon as a village lad receives college education, he becomes indifferent to the village. He begins to consider himself superior and different, as if belonging to a separate world altogether. His one ambition is to somehow leave the village and run to a city. Is this not a slur on the academic world?

I agree that all places are not alike. I know perfectly well that no complex against the native dress exists in Tamil Nadu or Bengal. Anyone from a peasant to a professor can go about in a dhoti on any occasion. But I submit that the habit of borrowed and idealized thinking is present over there too. It is present everywhere, in some form or degree. Even 25 years after independence we are blissfully carrying on with the same system of education which was designed by Macaulay and Co. to breed clerks and mental slaves. Slaves who would be incapable of thinking independently of their British masters; slaves who would admire everything about the masters, even while hating them; slaves who would consider it an honour to be standing by the side, of the masters, to speak the language of the masters, to dress like the masters, to sing and dance like the masters; slaves, who would hate their own people and would be available to preach the gospel of hatred among their own people. Can we then be surprised if the large majority of students in universities are losing faith in this system of education?

Let me go back to trivialities again. Ten years ago, if you asked a fashionable student in Delhi to wear a kurta with trousers he would have laughed at you. Today, by the grace of the hippies and the Hare Rama Hare Krishna cult, not only has the kurta-trousers combination become legitimate, but even the word kurta has changed to guru-shirt. The sitar became a star instrument with us only after the Americans gave a big welcome to Ravi Shankar, just as 50 years ago Tagore became Gurudev all over India only after he received the Nobel Prize from Sweden. Can you dare to ask a college student to shave his head, moustache, and beard when the fashion is to put the barbers out of business? But if tomorrow under the influence of Yoga the students of Europe begin to shave their heads arid faces, I can assure you that you will begin to see a crop of shaven skulls all over Connaught Circus the next day. Yoga has to get a certificate from Europe before it can influence the home of its birth. Let me give another example—a less trivial one.

I work in Hindi films, but it is an open secret that the songs and dialogues of these Hindi films are mostly written in Urdu. Eminent Urdu writers and poets-Krishan Chandar, Rajinder Singh Bedi, K. A. Abbas, Gulshan Nanda, Sahir Ludhianwi, Majrooh Sultanpuri, and Kaifi Azmi are associated with this work.Now, if a film written in Urdu can be called a Hindi film, it is logical to conclude that Hindi and Urdu are one and, the same language. But no, our British masters declared them two separate languages in their time. Therefore, even 25 years after independence, our government, our universities, and our intellectuals insist on treating them as two separate and independent languages. Pakistan radio goes on ruining the beauty of this language by thrusting into it as many Persian and Arabic words as possible; and All India Radio knocks it out of all shape by pouring the entire Sanskrit dictionary into it. In this way they carry out the wish of the Master, to separate the inseparable. Can anything be more absurd than that? If the British told us that white was black, would we go on calling white black for ever and ever? My film colleague Johnny Walker remarked the other day, "They should not announce 'Ab Hindi mein samachar suniye' [Now listen to the news in Hindi] they should say, 'Ab Samachar mein Hindi suniye' [Now listen to Hindi in the News]

I have discussed this funny situation with many Hindi and Urdu writers—the so-called progressive as well as non progressive; I have tried to convince them of the urgency to do some fresh thinking on the subject. But so far it has been like striking one's head against a stone wall. We film people call it the "ignorance of the learned". Are we wrong?

Lastly, I would like to tell you about a hunch I have, even at the risk of boring you. A hunch is something you can't help having. It just comes. Ultimately it may prove right or wrong. May be mine is wrong. But there it is. It may even prove right—who knows?

Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru has admitted in his autobiography that our freedom movement, led by the Indian National Congress, was always dominated by the propertied classes—the capitalists and landlords. It was logical, therefore, that these very classes should hold the reigns of power even after independence. Today it is obvious to everyone that in the last 25 years the rich have been growing 'richer' and the poor have been growing poorer. Pandit Nehru wanted to change this state of affairs, but he couldn't. I don't blame him, because he had to face very heavy odds all along. Today our Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi, pledges herself to take the country towards the goal of socialism. How far she will be successful, I can't say. Politics is not my line. For our present purposes it is enough if you agree with me that in today's India the propertied classes dominate the government as well as society.

I think you will also agree that the British used the English language with remarkable success for strengthening their imperial hold on our country.

Now, which language in your opinion would their successors, the present rulers of India, choose to strengthen their own domination? Rashtrabhasha Hindi? By heavens, no. My hunch is that their interests too are served by English and English alone. But since they have to keep up a show of patriotism they make a lot of noise about Rashtrabhasha Hindi so that the mind of the public remains diverted.

Men of property may believe in a thousand different gods, but they worship only one—the God of profit. From the point of view of profit the advantages of retaining English to the capitalist class in this period of rapid industrialization and technological revolution are obvious. But the social advantages are even greater. From that point of view English is a God-sent gift to our ruling classes.

Why? For the simple reason that the English language is beyond the reach of the toiling millions of our country. In olden times Sanskrit and Persian were beyond the reach of the toiling masses. That is why the rulers of those times had given them the status of state language. Through Sanskrit and Persian the masses were made to feel ignorant, inferior, uncivilized, and unfit to rule themselves. Sanskrit and Persian helped to enslave their minds, and when the mind is enslaved bondage is eternal.It suits our present ruling classes to preserve and maintain the social order that they have inherited from the British. They have a privileged position; but they cannot admit it openly. That is why a lot of hoo-haw is made about Hindi as the Rashtrabhasha. They know very well that this Sanskrit-laden, artificial language, deprived of all modern scientific and technical terms, is too weak and insipid to challenge the supremacy of English. It will always remain a show piece, and what is more, a convenient tool to keep the masses fighting among themselves. We film people get a regular flow of fan mail from young people studying in schools and colleges. I get my share of it and these letters reveal quite clearly what a storehouse of torture the English language is to the vast majority of Indian students. How abysmally low the levels of teaching and learning have reached! That is why, I am told preferential treatment is being given to boys and girls who come from public schools i.e. schools to which only the children of privileged classes can go.

It is not necessary for me to comment on the efforts being made to strengthen English in every sphere of life, despite assurances to the contrary. They are all too obvious. It is admitted that English is too alien and hence too difficult to learn for the average Indian. And yet, it helps the capitalists and industrialists to consolidate their position on an all-India scale. That one consideration is more important than any other. According to them whatever serves their interest automatically serves national interest too. They are hopeful that in the not too distant future the people themselves will endorse their stand—that English should retain its present status for ever.

This was my hunch and I confided it one day to a friend of mine who is a labour leader. I told him that if we are serious about doing away with capitalism and bringing in socialism, we have to help the working class to consolidate itself on an all-India scale with the same energy as the capitalist class is doing. We have to help the working class achieve a leading role in society. And that can only be done by breaking the domination of English and replacing it with a people's language.

My friend listened to me carefully and largely agreed with me.

"You have analyzed the situation very well," he said, "but what is the remedy?"

"The remedy is to retain the English script and kick out the English language," I replied.

"But how?"

"A rough and ready type of Hindustani is used by the working masses all over India. They make practical use of it by discarding all academic and grammatical flourishes. In this type of Hindustani, "Larka bhi jata hei" and "Larki bhi jata hei". There is an atmosphere of rare freedom in this patois and even the intellectuals indulge in it when they want to relax. And actually this is in the best tradition of Hindustani. This is how it was born, made progress, and acquired currency all over India. In the old days it was contemptuously called Urdu—or the language of the camps or bazaars.

Today in this bazaari Hindustani the word 'university' becomes univrasti—a much better word than vishwa vidyalaya, 'lantern' becomes laltain, the 'chasis' of a car becomes chesi, 'spanner' becomes pana, i.e. anything and everything is possible. The string with which the soldier cleans his rifle is called 'pullthrough' in English. In Roman Hindustani it becomes fultroo—a beautiful word. 'Barn-door' is the term the Hollywood lights man uses for a particular type of two blade cover. The Bombay film worker has changed it to bandar, an excellent transformation. This Hindustani has untold and unlimited possibilities. It can absorb the international scientific and technological vocabulary with the greatest of ease. It can take words from every source and enrich itself. One has no need to run only to the Sanskrit dictionary."

"But why the Roman script?" my friend asked.

"Because no one has any prejudice against it," I said. "It is the only script which has already gained all-India currency. In north, south, east and west, you can see shop signs and film poster in this script. We use this script for writing addresses on envelopes and post cards. The army has been using it for the last thirty years at least."

My friend, the labour leader, kept silent for some time. Then he smiled indulgently and said, "Comrade, Europe also experimented with Esperanto. A great intellectual like Bernard Shaw tried his best to popularize the Basic English. But all these schemes failed miserably, for the simple reason that languages cannot be evolved mechanically; they grow spontaneously."

I was deeply shocked. I said, "Comrade, Esperanto is just that Rashtrabhasha which the Hindi Pandits are manufacturing in their studies, from the pages of some Sanskrit dictionary. I am talking of the language which is growing all round you, through the action of the people."

But I couldn't convince him. I gave more arguments, including the one that Netaji Subhash Bose and Jawaharlal Nehru were both strong advocates of Roman Hindustani, but that too failed to convince him. The question is not whether the comrade or I was right. Perhaps, I was wrong. Perhaps, my thinking was utopian, or "mechanical" —as he called it. As I said before, you can never say whether a hunch is going to be right or wrong. But the fun lies in having it, because to have a hunch is a sign of independent thinking. The comrade should have been able to appreciate that, but he couldn't, because it was difficult for him to get out of the grooves of orthodox thinking.

No country can progress unless it becomes conscious of its being—its mind and body. It has to learn to exercise its own muscles. It has to learn to find out and solve its own problems in its own way. But whichever way I turn I find that even after twenty-five years of independence, we are like a bird which has been let out of its cage after a prolonged imprisonment-unable to know what to do with its freedom. It has wings, but is afraid to fly into the open air. It longs to remain within defined limits, as in the cage.

Individually and collectively, we resemble Walter Mitty. Our inner lives are different from our outer lives. Our thoughts and actions are poles apart. We want to change this state of affairs, but we lack the courage to do anything different from what we have been doing all along, or different from what others expect us to do.I am sure there must be some police officers in this country who in their hearts want to be regarded as friends rather than enemies of the public. They must be aware that in England the behaviour of the police towards the public is polite and helpful. But the tradition in which they have been trained is not the one which the British set for their own country but the one which they set for their colonies. So, the policeman is helpless. According to this colonial tradition, it is his duty to strike terror into anyone who enters his office, to be as obstructive and unhelpful as possible. This is the tradition which pervades every government office, from the chaparasi to the minister.

One of our young and enterprising producers made an experimental film and approached the government for tax exemption. The minister concerned was being sworn into office the next day. He invited the producer to attend the ceremony, after which he would meet him and discuss the matter. The producer went, impressed by the informality with which the minister had treated him. As the minister was being sworn in, promising to serve the people truly, faithfully, and honestly, his secretary started explaining to the young producer how much he would have to pay in black money to the minister and how much to the others if he wanted the tax exemption. The producer got so shocked and angry that he wanted to put this scene in his next film. But his financiers had already suffered a loss with the first one. They told him categorically not to make an ass of himself. In any case, if he had insisted in making an ass of himself the censors would never have passed the film, because it is an unwritten law that no policeman or minister is corrupt in our country.

But there is something which strikes me as being even funnier. Those same people who scream against ministers every day cannot themselves hold a single function without some minister inaugurating it, or presiding over it, or being the chief guest. Sometimes the minister is the chief guest and a film star is the president, or else the film star is the chief guest and the minister is the president. Some big personality has to be there, because it is the age old colonial tradition.

During the last war, I spent four years in England as a Hindustani announcer at the BBC. During those four years of extreme crisis I never even once set my eyes on a member of the British cabinet, including Prime Minister Churchill. But since independence I have seen nothing else but ministers in India, all over the place.When Gandhiji went to the Round Table Conference in 1930, he remarked to British journalists that the Indian people regarded the guns and bullets of their empire in the same way as their children regarded the crackers andphataakaas on Diwali day. He could make that claim because he had driven the fear of the British out of Indian minds. He had taught them to ignore and boycott the British officers instead of kowtowing to them. Similarly, if we want socialism in our country, we have firstly to drive out the fear of money, position, and power from the minds of our people. Are we doing anything in that direction? In our society today, who is respected most — the man with talent or the man with money? Who is admired most—the man with talent or the man with power? Can we ever hope to usher in socialism under such conditions? Before socialism can come, we have to create an atmosphere in which possession of wealth and riches should invite disrespect rather than respect. We have to create an atmosphere in which the highest respect is given to labour whether it be physical or mental; to talent, to skill, to art, and to inventiveness. This requires new thinking, and the courage to discard old ways of thinking. Are we anywhere near this revolution of the mind?

Perhaps, today we need a messiah to give us the courage to abandon our slavishness and to create values befitting the human beings of a free and independent country so that we may have the courage to link our destinies to the ones being ruled, and not the rulers — to the exploited and not to the exploiters.

A great saint of the Punjab, Guru Arjun Dev, said,

jan ki tehl sanbhakhan jan sio uuthan baithan jan kai sanga
jan char raj mukh mathai laagi aasa puuran anant tharanga

[I serve His humble servants, and speak with them, and abide with them.
I apply the dust of the feet of His humble servants to my face and forehead;
my hopes, and the many waves of desire, are fulfilled]

It is my earnest hope and prayer that you, graduates of Jawaharlal Nehru University, may succeed where I and so many others of my generation have failed.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Dil Toh Baccha Hai Ji : Movie review

2011-02-05T17:26:00.004+08:00

Madhur Bhandarkar should have stuck to what he knows best. Here he gives up on issue-based cinema and dives headlong into a masala rom-com...and drowns. A story of three men learning and re-learning lessons in love is pregnant with possibility, but the film is massacred wholesale by bad writing, inane dialogue and the the worst collection of support actors assembled a long time (barring the competent Tisca Chopra). Even the music, while pleasant, has hardly any recall value.

The lead trio of Omi Vaidya, Ajay Devgn and Emraan Hashmi are eminently watchable and bravely try to salvage the film, but this ship's so full of holes that even they can't save it. Save yourself the ticket money and rent the DVD sometime. Umm, actually, on second thoughts, don't bother with that either.

1.5/5

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Dhobi Ghat (Mumbai diaries): Movie review

2011-01-24T21:26:00.004+08:00

Kiran Rao's sensitive debut film engages not so much with plot and pacing, as it does with cityscapes and moments. The film achingly reflects on urban angst, alienation, loss, inspiration and hope. It is also, obviously, as the title suggests, a paean to Mumbai. The film doesn't spoon-feed solutions or nudge the viewer towards a preferred point of view, rather, it leaves the viewer to ponder over the proceedings, a watermark of intelligent film-making.
Investment banker, Shai, comes to Mumbai on a sabbatical and explores the city through her camera, and it is through her lens that the film truly comes alive. Black and white photographs still have that certain 'je ne se qua' and can capture subtleties that colour tends to blur out. She meets a laundryman, Munna, a migrant, who, apart from his day job washing clothes at Mumbai's famous 'Dhobi Ghat', moonlights as wannabe actor and night time rat-killer (I didn't know such a profession existed. The rat-killers have nothing else to get their prey with, except for large and unwieldily sticks). It is through their interactions that we see most of this fascinating city, shown here with all its treasures and pockmarks, its many landmarks and its dingy bylanes. Munna is hopelessly in love with Shai, but gives up the chase in the final frames of the film, when he realizes that the religious and class divides between them are just too wide to bridge. Shai also has a one night stand with Arun, a celebrated and introverted painter, who is perhaps lonely and searching for inspiration after his divorce. He finds his muse in the video diaries of his previous tenant, a bubbly newly wed Yasmin, only to later discover, to his horror, that she might have ended her lonesome and troubled life in that very apartment.
Performance wise the film clearly belongs to debutant Monica Dingra and the brilliant Prateik Babbar, whose performances ring so true you that you needn't have them speak at all. They come across as complete naturals against Aamir Khan's studied and understated Arun. Kriti Malhotra completes the fine acting effort from this largely inexperienced cast with her doe-eyed, heartbreaking portrayal of Yasmin. Also kudos to Tushar Kanti Ray's for his camera work and Gustavo Santaolalla for his haunting guitar work.
The film is sensitive, layered, nuanced and easy on your time. Those looking for a solid plotline will be disappointed with this ninety minute feature (though it could have been shorter by 5 -10 minutes...the whole 'Munna's brother/underworld' track being an unnecessary distraction). The city has millions of stories to tell and Rao chooses to tell but four of them... all representative of the modern urban malaise, so to speak, as well as serving as an exploration of fleeting but deep relationships. Not to say that Mumbai is portrayed on the whole, as a miserable and harsh place. The city's omnipresent character is best embodied in Arun's (and Yasmin's) aged, semi-paralytic neighbor, who in her continual presence, can witness all that happens around her, but can offer neither encouragement nor admonishment, comfort nor solace, advice nor reproach, as she watches those around her live, love, yearn, suffer and die.

4/5

Cheers!
Abhishek.

A call to alms

2011-01-07T20:07:00.003+08:00

First, a very happy 2011 to the three people who actually read this blog. Have a great new year ahead! :-)

***

I donated a sum of exactly $210.10 to charity in the whole of last year. Of that, $210 comprised of automated deductions by my employer from the monthly paycheck to a charity I know next to nothing about. The remaining 10 cents went into the X-mas donation box at a Subway outlet. By most accounts, this record of giving is quite simply, pathetic. And no, this post is not inspired by Mr Premji's $2 billion largesse. It's been at the back of my mind for a while now. And perhaps no action was taken on the 'giving money away' bit was because I saw this to be in direct conflict with the 'save as much cash and retire early' goal. But one can do both. The importance of giving cannot be over-emphasised in a world entrenched in pitiful inequality. There are many right-minded people out there running charities and organizations that make a difference everyday, against the hardest odds, assisting in places that the state has long forsaken, in areas where funding is dearer than onions. I remember looking out of my window in Kolkata at the 9 year old who sweeps the building floor and wondering if he went to school. And then glancing at the shriveled old lady at a Singapore food court and thinking if she could afford food, clothing and shelter. Helping the boy get to school and the lady the basics of urban existence requires money. And if you have some to spare, why not pitch in? If you do, in a way you're also helping yourself. The kid will get an education, perhaps excel in chemistry or math, and contribute to the next big medical breakthrough which helps save your near and dear ones, or, less dramatically, will grow up to be an honest teacher and spread his knowledge to generations of students. The old lady will lead a life of dignity, feel happy about her existence and do a great job at work, so when you head to her food court for a cup of coffee, you will get not only a wonderfully clean table, but a cheerful smile to go with your coffee and your day will be brighter for it. Giving has both very tangible and intangible benefits, both to the beneficiary and the donor.
There is a general belief that to give substantially prerequisites great wealth. A facetious argument, if there ever was one. Give what you can. Financial security has nothing to do with helping in small proportions. Every cent and every paisa makes a difference. So chose a cause that you are passionate about and give what you can to see a change, however small that may be. You'll feel good. Remember, you can't take it all with you when you go.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Cutting the fat

2010-12-16T19:45:00.005+08:00

I first started looking at my spending habits when our son came along in 2009. With my wife deciding to take time off from work for a while, we went from dual to single income. Plus we had heard the general horror stories of the increased monthly expenditures involved with an infant around. The need to put more funds away for the future (to cater to the child's future needs) could also not be overemphasized. Clearly the savings ratio needed to be cranked up. But I was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to cut out some of the fat without trying too hard at all. Here's three minor behavioral changes I made in 2010, which have helped save me a neat pile of cash.

1. Re-negotiating the phone contract : This one's cute. My employer has an agreement with my phone service provider for staff rates. And I was oblivious to this all the while. Our average monthly mobile phone bill in 2009 was approximately $200 (including mobile internet usage on a pay-per-use basis). After the re-negotiation, our combined monthly phone bill is now $97 and is inclusive of a data plan, which allows me more mobile internet use than I need. Money for nothing? You bet.
Annual savings: $1,236

2. Cutting out Starbucks : The route I took to work required me to walk past a Starbucks outlet. Thrice a week on average, I'd give into temptation and pick up a latte on my way to work. Soon this became routine. And I don't even dig coffee that much. It was all about the routine and not the coffee. I would be just as happy with a 3-in-1 Nescafe concoction as with a caramel macchiato. So I changed my route to work this year; a route which required me to walk a minute extra, but helped avoid the the coffee shop. And that was it. It was difficult at first and I struggled with it but slowly and surely my Starbucks morning coffee purchase was a thing of the past. I still do buy coffee at Starbucks once in while. But only when I really want to.
Annual savings: $936

3. Taxi, taxi, taxi : Again, a habit that carried on from my early working years. I'd take a cab to work twice a week, mostly on Mondays (because I felt I needed to get to work quickly on the first day of the week) and on Fridays (because I thought I was too knackered by end-week to bother with trains and buses). Financially not very smart at $35 a pop, but who was really thinking about cost control? And given that I ran into peak hour traffic most times, I didn't even save a huge amount of time taking the cab, which sort of defeated the purpose. It wasn't much fun sitting in a taxi stuck in traffic watching trains whizz by! So 2010 has been mostly cab-free, work wise. I still manage to get to work on time on Monday!
Annual savings: $3,640

These small steps have helped us put more away for the proverbial rainy day (read emergency fund) as well as invest for the little one's future. And it hasn't been particularly tough at all. I see lots more fat in our monthly budget and I look forward to getting rid of it in the coming year. Lets see how that goes.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Action Replay

2010-11-09T20:15:00.002+08:00

Image via WikipediaPerhaps the only redeeming aspect of this shambolic remake of 1985's thoroughly enjoyable 'Back to the Future', is Pritam's peppy music. Budding film-makers can maybe learn how not rip-off a Hollywood film.
A young lad goes back in time to ensure his parents have a love marriage, for, in the present, presumably thanks to their being hastily manacled together by their families, they behave like a couple of snappy hyenas, constantly at each other's throats. He hijacks a time machine, which lands him smack bang onto the sets of 'Om Shanti Om', or 1970s Bombay, and he does the needful with a minimal of fuss. Its all too easy for our time travelling hero and for the viewer, all too boring.
The lead pair of Akshay Kumar and Aishwarya Rai Bacchan try hard, but fail to ignite any interest. Kumar repeats himself yet again as the lovable buffoon and Aishwarya doesn't manage much apart from looking stunning in a few frames. The support cast of Rajpal Yadav, Randhir Kapoor, Neha Dhupia and Rannvijay Singh are largely inept and make no impact whatsoever. Quite obviously, veterans like Om Puri and Kirron Kher have been offered sack loads of cash for their walk on parts in this monstrosity - there can be no other explanation to their appearance. Newbie Aditya Roy Kapur sports a cool Afro, but nothing much else. The film is a glossy black hole. No content, no laughs and no joy. Steer very clear of the 'Replay' button.

1.5/5

Cheers!
Abhishek.

Third time lucky, Mr. Khan?

2010-10-31T10:44:00.003+08:00

Image by Getty Images via @daylife

There’s something about Aamir Khan, isn’t there? Whatever he’s touched in the last few years has turned to gold. And given where gold prices are at these days, that’s a rich haul, at least metaphorically. Be it ‘Lagaan’s’ dream run at the Oscars in 2001, the massive critical and commercial successes of ‘Taare Zameen Par’, ‘Ghajini’ and ‘3 Idiots’, or the backing of first time director Anusha Razvi’s indie vehicle ‘Peepli Live’. Most observers are convinced he’s mastered the balance between content and commerce. It is perhaps no coincidence that his latest production, the dark yet enjoyable ‘Peepli Live’ is India’s official entry to the 83rd Academy Awards to be held in 2011, the fourth Aamir Khan film to represent India in the last nine years (including ‘Rang De Basanti’ where his contribution was only in the capacity of actor. Speaking of actors, this is Raghubir Yadav’s sixth film to be sent to the Oscars, second only to Kamal Hassan’s seven. Yadav, however has had two of his films ‘Lagaan’ and ‘Water’, make the final five). But is it a convenient choice? Or one simply made given Khan’s prior Oscar experience? India’s entry to the Oscars cannot be about pandering to certain egos or Bollywood cliques and cabals. The best film must represent the country and all other criteria must be cast aside. But given India’s failure to bag a single statuette thus far might prompt a thinking based not entirely on merit alone.

With these questions being raised, the film’s selection as India’s entry in the Best Foreign Film category has not been beyond controversy. This has once again been seen by some quarters as an attempt to play the poverty card, to showcase the worst of India to a gloating western audience. BJP’s LK Advani, no less, has expressed regret at this tendency of filmmakers to repeatedly serve up the worst kind of poverty porn for commercial and critical benefit. As if ‘Slumdog Millionaire’s insensitive dignity-denying portrayals of the poor weren’t enough, we now have a homegrown version to pander to the same exploitative and voyeuristic urban nouveau riche, who have no connect whatsoever with the devastatingly deprived and unfortunate heartlands. Perhaps a mockery was being made of the farmers’ genuine plight. Cinema is a powerful representative of country’s image and questions are being asked if a resurgent and growing India needs to continue to be represented by films such as these. Other allegations include favoritism shown to the film’s powerful and savvy producers and the consistent overlooking of regional cinema, come Oscar time.

While it is indeed true that the three Indian films that ever made the final nominations in the Best Foreign Film category (‘Mother India’, ‘Salaam Bombay!’ and ‘Lagaan’) were films that were decidedly set amongst poverty (rural and urban) and deprivation, but pronouncing judgment that similarly themed films have the best bet at getting noticed at the Oscars is perhaps too simplistic a conclusion. One must understand that the Oscars are an embodiment of an essentially a western perspective on cinema. To win there, you have to play it by their rules. One has to present cinema with universal appeal, with real stories – make believe is one thing, but singing and dancing, melodramatic monstrosities such as ‘Henna’, ‘Saagar’, ‘Jeans’ and ‘Devdas’ as entries have been a waste of time and energy. A western audience finds no connect whatsoever with this particular brand of cinema and our collective rancour at a trophy-less cabinet only finds likeness to the forlorn countenance of the sourpuss at the birthday party, stubbornly spoiling it for everyone.

‘Peepli’ is in this regard a smart and confident film, a story succinctly and poignantly told to devastating impact. It has an appeal which transcends boundaries and lack of typical Bollywood treatment will only enhance its chances. ‘Lagaan’ probably lost out due to it being at its core, a big Bollywood musical. Rizvi’s film has no such trappings. Many point to ‘Slumdog Millionaire’ as an example of the westerner’s love for all things poor in India. Indeed, while the film reaped a huge haul of statuettes, it was more because of the quirky and gimmicky screenplay and the freshness of the story rather than the supposed interest it generated on account of it laying bare Mumbai’s dark and deprived underbelly. The film also offered hope in a difficult time, and with the world reeling from the aftershocks of a depressing economic crisis, this small film’s roaring success mirroring its rags-to riches plot captured the popular imagination. It all came together nicely. As far as Mr. Advani is concerned, it is perhaps pertinent to remind him that ‘Peepli Live’ does nothing to mock the farmers' pitiable conditions; it mocks our indifferent and voyeuristic response to it. Perhaps the purpose of satire is a concept lost on him. Cinema and other forms of art, as a medium of comment, are possibly at their most penetrating when the reality is so pitiable that it defies belief. Years ago, Satyajit Ray's ‘Apu’ trilogy was widely criticised in several quarters for exploiting poverty. Nonetheless posterity has shown why his films have outlived him. They are timeless because of a certain enduring and rich human quality which is beyond an immediate setting of destitution and paucity. For if impecunity and deprivation were the only criteria then ‘Bandit Queen’ had no business losing out in 1994.

Sure there will always be talk of other contenders. Makers of the edgy ‘LSD’, the inspiring ‘Udaan’ and the heart wrenching ‘Angadi Theru’ might feel shortchanged. But in the end it is the incredibly smart ‘Peepli Live’ that will perhaps connect best with a universal audience for its intelligence and incisiveness, for it being simultaneously entertaining and serving as a powerful human document. Poverty has nothing to do with it. India is country where extremes of wealth and deprivation coexist. Our cinema has reflected both these realities. And both kinds of films have been sent to the Oscars. For those of you who are overly sensitive about India’s image, the film does not reinforce the ‘poverty’ stereotype. It just tells a novel story well. So let’s wish Mr. Khan well; one never knows, it could well be a case of being third time lucky.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

This article first appeared in the November issue of 'KINDLE'

Grappling with hope

2010-10-02T00:00:00.005+08:00

Image via Wikipedia

You would be hard pressed to point out Baraut on the map of India. Chances are you've never been there. Or even heard of it. Regardless, the residents of this small town in Uttar Pradesh, around 60 km askew of New Delhi, would have forgiven you your ignorance till a few weeks ago, as their favorite son, wrestler Rajiv Tomar, was well on track to realizing his medal dreams at the upcoming Commonwealth Games (CWG). But that dream has since turned spectacularly sour, thanks largely to the combined incompetence and general apathy of the Sports Authority of India (SAI) and the country’s Wrestling Federation (WFI), both set up to nurture sporting talent, but whose general carelessness and lack of any foresight have put paid to many a sporting dream, a result sharply in contrast to their purpose.

Tomar’s story is not only a shocking indictment of the state of general disrepair of our sports governance, but also one of hopelessness that comes from being associated with a sport other than cricket in this country. The incident was widely covered by the media, and this sporadic

coverage will eventually do irreparable damage to Tomar. Where tomes are written about our underachieving and often bratty cricketers and where Yuvraj Singh’s many romantic dalliances generate as much front page copy as food inflation or political machinations, what hope can there be for a poor wrestler? He finds mention only when he fails a dope test in the wake of a much publicized (for all the wrong reasons) international event. Tomar’s only error appears to have been to consult a doctor when he came down with flu. The medication he took for his ailment turned up a banned substance, and as per the prevailing guidelines, he stands suspended. Here is an ‘Arjuna’ awardee wrestler who is perhaps the country’s best medal hope in the 120-kg freestyle category, and what fate befalls him? He falls victim to complete negligence from a wretched administrative body set up precisely to nurture and develop him. The WFI claims innocence as does the SAI. Neither perhaps found a break from the constant bickering and internal politics that seem to run deep in any sort of administration in India, to actually have the time and inclination to guide and monitor the athlete. It is quite possible that the unfortunate wrestler did not even have an updated list of banned substances as issued by WADA, and was quite possibly met with ignorance from the sports authorities as well. The doping malaise is easily avoidable if the athlete wishes to stay clean and country’s foremost athletes have been failed by their very own. Fellow wrestlers Sumit and Mausam Khatri, also banned, are distraught as well. It is not always that they get to compete in international events of the scale of the CWG, and now they will watch from the sidelines. Worse still, history might end up remembering them for this alleged misdemeanor.

Does the name Monika Devi ring a bell? This weightlifter was declared to have failed a doping test just before departing for the Beijing Olympics in 2008, only to be cleared a few days later, but not before her dream of participating in the Olympics was scuttled. She almost gave up

the sport as a result. The media went to town with her dope test failure, but weren’t as vocal in following up with the story of her innocence. These are sportspersons who are time and time again expected only to participate and not win. These are sportspersons who walk miles to any sort of sporting infrastructure to practice, on a daily basis. These are sportspersons who brave a complete lack of opportunity during their growth phases and still win medals for the country. These are sportspersons who take up athletics and persevere, knowing full well, that the best that they can hope for is a passing mention in the back pages of a newspaper, should they win anything on an international level. These are sportspersons who have achieved success in their chosen spheres in spite of the system and not because of it. These are sportspersons who know they will disappear into thankless history, and these are also men and women who also deal with complete ignorance and indifference from the general sport enthusiast in the country. But they

continue to find the immense strength to carry on regardless. This needs to be respected. This needs to be celebrated. This exemplary courage must resonate with the rest of the country. But India seems to have moved on. The values of the post ‘91 generation seem to have been irrevocably altered. As long as we remain besotted with IPL parties, inconsequential ODIs and more burnout-inducing T20 tourneys with all their trappings of glamour, we will never stop to

notice how Monika Devi has fought her way back from the abyss of despair and depression to rise again to be regarded as India’s best bet for a medal in the upcoming CWG. The fact that no one pays any attention is the root cause of this pathetic situation our athletes find themselves in. And for the sake of sport in India, the media must also start to care more. It is time to stop

remembering Rajiv Tomar for failing a dope test; rather it is time for him to be remembered for being the holder of a record 35 Bharat and Hind Kesari titles.

It is perhaps encouraging that athletes such as Saina Nehwal and Vijender Kumar have seen some mainstream recognition in the wake of their successes. But they are exceptions to the rule. The track and field and ‘akhara’ types continue to be mainstream pariahs, forgotten and ignored by most. It is time this changed and we cleaned up our act, not only in terms of administration and governance of sports in this country, but also in terms of more positive media coverage. Talent, blood, guts, and courage are aplenty, but it needs to be given a chance. One need not reiterate that there are indeed many Indias. Indias divided by rupees in the wallet, Indias divided by language, caste, creed and community. Indias divided by religion. We don’t need an India divided by sport.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

This article first appeared in the October issue of 'KINDLE'.

Wall Street 2: Money never sleeps

2010-09-27T23:03:00.002+08:00

Image by jamiejohndavies via FlickrGordon Gekko does make a triumphant return to Wall Street and indeed to true capitalist form, but nothing much else works in Oliver Stone's sequal to his iconic 'Wall Street'. In this convoluted mess of a plot, the only saving grace is a smooth and assured performance from veteran Michael Douglas. The film, which uses the sub-prime meltdown as a backdrop to much of its drama, is found wanting as it works neither as a thriller nor as a document of the worst financial crisis in recent memory.

While the original film leant heavily on Faustian dilemma to make for engaging viewing, part deux precariously plays the balancing act between family drama, corporate vendetta and financial thrill-a-thon. Neither of these stilts provide any genuine support to what is in the end a film that only bankers may find remotely watchable.

2 / 5

Cheers!

Abhishek.

India's 'Commonwealth' woes

2010-09-04T11:08:00.004+08:00

In an article in February, yours truly had predicted that India’s preparedness for the Commonwealth Games (CWG) scheduled for October this year would be well behind schedule, but the famous Indian tradition of ‘jugaad’ would most likely see us through in the nick of time. While this may still prove to be an astute prophecy, one is not so sure anymore. As the games inch closer, the pandemonium exponentially increases. As charges of corruption, organizational inefficiency, delayed and shoddy construction and political muckraking savage India’s attempt to showcase her ‘arrival’ on the world stage, one can only hope and pray that an embarrassment of epic proportions is somehow circumvented.

INR 28,054 crore. That’s USD6.2 billion. That’s what’s been doled out to New Delhi and to sundry agencies to make the games a success. But apparently much of this sum seems to be just governmental largesse. Per the reports from the Central Vigilance Commission (CVC), several prima facie irregularities are evident. Completion certificates from various stadia are allegedly falsified with quality of work of the games venues being sub standard. It has inquired into more than ten infrastructure projects related to the games and has alluded to inflated prices, poor execution, bribery and manipulated tenders. In a bid to keep the ‘sarkari babus’ happy, many of the stadia have been inaugurated in advance, only to fall apart almost immediately. Part of the roof of the JLN Stadium started leaking soon after its grand opening. The story of the S.P Mukherjee Swimming Complex was also no different. In addition to following the JLN Stadium’s example, it also managed to injure a young swimmer, when loose drainage covers put paid to her test dives. Theres more. Treasurer Anil Khanna announced his resignation after reports that a firm fronted by his son had won the contract to lay the tennis court turfs at the R.K. Khanna Tennis Stadium. In addition, sponsorship deals with Australian and Swiss firms have also come under the scanner and have since been cancelled. Since the political brouhaha started, Suresh Kalmadi has stayed firm, pledging his steadfast loyalty and singing paeans about transparency. However, some of his colleagues have not been so lucky. Organizing committee (OC) members T.S. Darbari, M. Jayachandran and Sanjay Mohindroo stand suspended, accused of corruption. It is therefore no surprise, given the negativity associated with the CWG that let alone tight-fisted private corporate houses, even PSUs are unsure about providing sponsorships.

An all too familiar tale in India, this. Remember the IPL? Power concentrated in the hands of few, with practically no accountability, has led to a long list of disasters. Did we think this time was going to be any different? Add to that the miles of red tape associated with organizing an international event, and you have a potential disaster on hand. At least the IPL delivered an enjoyable product, before things went downhill for the nepotistic Lalit Modi and his coterie. But what has transpired here is just not cricket and Kalmadi may need to do more than just allow independent inquiries to prove he is aboveboard. But apportioning the entire blame at the OC chairman’s door will be folly. A variety of factors are at play here. India has limited experience in handling events of such magnitude, the last being the 1982 Asian Games. The story then was eerily similar; with the then prime minister Indira Gandhi calling on the services of Jagmohan Malhotra for some serious last minute trouble-shooting. One would have hoped for a better performance this time around. Another factor at play is the lack of any interdepartmental connectivity. With multiple government agencies roped in to organize the games, it was imperative that there be a detailed and well-integrated plan for getting New Delhi games ready, both in terms of the sporting stadia as well as the city’s general infrastructure itself, with each government agency clear about its role and involvement. The PWD and CPWD cannot seem to agree on who is responsible for clearing construction garbage, or who is to construct the pavements outside the various stadia. Therefore, equal blame should there be borne by the Delhi Development Authority. While Shanghai has appeared to have gotten a spanking new facelift with the hosting of the Expo this year, New Delhi’s light cosmetic changes leaves many unsure about the positive effects the games have had on the capital. While the new airport and the tube system are fine instances of progress, there are many examples of the glass being half empty. For example, drainage systems, which were to be upgraded, are still in a mess, with less than 20mm of rain enough to wreak havoc in and around the games village and other infrastructures, causing widespread water logging and traffic snarls. The urban poor have been hurriedly cleared away lest the city pander to the western stereotype of being infested with ‘beggars’. Genuine rehabilitation efforts have sadly, not been made. Furthermore, unclear and vague zoning of the city, coupled with the abovementioned abysmal coordination between different government agencies has also led to inordinate delays.

Amid the upheaval in Parliament, with the UPA weakly responding to the opposition’s bay for blood with the argument that much of the CWG planning had been completed in the tenure of the previous NDA government, the Prime Minister’s office has rightly taken charge and things should only improve from here. Time is short and there remains much to be done. The hosting of the CWG in New Delhi is India’s opportunity to announce herself to the world and to showcase the recent positive buzz associated with the country. The event could well end up doing just the opposite. The upwardly spiraling ‘chakra’ logo of the games supposedly depicts the growth of India into a proud, vibrant nation, with her billion people coming together to fulfill their true destinies. In its worst form, it looks like a lot of common wealth fulfilling only chosen destinies. For the rest of us, the CWG will remain a USD6.2 billion question.

Cheers!

Abhishek

A version of this article first appeared in the September issue of 'KINDLE'

Working class heroes

2010-07-13T21:54:00.007+08:00

Image via Wikipedia

I was truly gutted when the last tickets for their concert in early 2009 (in Singapore) were sold out only five days after the being available for purchase. Needless to say, I had been late. But the evisceration was complete a few months later, when Oasis decided to split up, for good. Brothers in arms no more, the Gallaghers had decided that they had had enough of each other, on stage and off it. And that was the end of close to two decades of sibling rivalry, endless swagger, Britpop hysteria, a devil-may-care attitude, gigs the size of small cities, revisionist ‘Beatle’-esque riffs, trashed hotel rooms and mostly great rock ‘n’ roll music.

I, for one, was hooked right from that sunny winter morning in 1994 when I picked up a copy of 'Definitely Maybe' at a store in Lucknow's quaint Aminabad market. This was ironic, because the music on the cassette was sharply in contrast with the characteristics of the place of its purchase – all refinement and sophistication. None of that on the record, though. From the first loud, unapologetic, brazen and screeching riff of the album opener ‘Rock ‘n’ roll star’, you knew that these lads were made to put the rough edges back in British rock. Not since the Stone Roses’ 1989 self titled masterpiece, had eleven songs so perfect been assembled on one debut album. And it didn’t end there; the follow up - the marginally more introspective ‘What’s the story (Morning glory)’ – was an even better record in many respects. It sounded like the morning after to their debut album’s exuberant night out in town. I never got down to actually understanding what a ‘Wonderwall’ meant (a question also posed by Travis in their single ‘Writing to reach you’), but it was bloody awesome. Again, there wasn’t a single weak song on the album and both these albums continue to make it to any and every list of the ‘Top 10 British Rock Albums of All Time’ kind. The brothers’ Noel and Liam shared a fractious relationship at best, but when they came together in a recording studio, it was mostly magic. Noel’s lyrics could be infuriatingly vague, but delivered through Liam’s powerful nasal drawl, they sounded worthy, somehow. ‘Some might say’ and ‘Champagne Supernova’ are prime examples. What followed ‘Morning Glory’ were superstar status and the distractions that came with it. Cancelled concerts, drug abuse and microscopic media scrutiny – all of which eventually derailed the band’s proposed conquest of America. Here was a chance to be the single most relevant British act across the Atlantic since U2, and the band had promptly hit the self destruct button. But the lads had taught me well – I didn’t look back in anger.

Instead I looked ahead to their upcoming offering ‘Be Here Now’, which many say was the beginning of the end for them. While it was commercially successful, the overproduced and overblown album saw the band wilting under the pressure of their own self belief (now bordering on mild narcissism) and feverish public expectation. Suddenly, the hysteria was over. Their arch rivals, Blur, had moved on stylistically and sonically, in a bid to reinvest themselves. The great Britpop movement was done and dusted and Oasis didn’t seem to stand for anything anymore. Two mediocre albums followed in the shape of ‘Standing On the Shoulder of Giants’ and ‘Heathen Chemistry’ and by then, clearly, no one was paying any attention except the dedicated and faithful. I stayed faithful despite the band’s declining fortunes. Foremost of the reasons for doing so was the fact that they still made music for the same reason I listened to it. To enjoy myself and have a good time. Simple concept, but one lost on a lot of recent material from today’s more ‘cerebral’ bands. Oasis helped a whole new generation wake up and enjoy rock ‘n’ roll music, for the reason rock ‘n’ roll music was invented - to sing loudly with eyes closed. No tr

Cover of Be Here Now

ying to be clever and no trying to save the world. While their contemporaries like Pulp and Suede were going glam and posturing themselves as avant-garde sophisticates, Oasis were happy to be working class, a people’s band if you will, honest and direct. I wasn’t there in 1996 when they played to 250,000 screaming fans over two nights at Knebworth, but friends who were said it was like turning up to support your favorite football club - your loyalties completely firm and unyielding, in spite of the looming threat of relegation. Countless bands have been inspired by their ‘lads next door’ attitude to music – Keane, Travis, Embrace, Twisted Wheel, Jet and The Enemy have all sighted Oasis as a huge influence and that is testimony enough to the band’s lasting legacy, despite remaining more or less static in sonic approach coupled with the unwillingness to experiment. The band, contrarily, believed that experiments were best left to dedicated scientists. Frankly, I wouldn’t bother with them either, if I could churn up an album of B-sides that most bands of standing would kill to put on an album. One only needs to listen to gems like ‘Half the world away’, ‘Rocking Chair’, ‘Stay young’ and ‘Acquiesce’ off 1998’s B-sides compilation, ‘The Masterplan’, for confirmation of the band’s melody-making credentials. Following Oasis had another, more entertaining benefit. The sound bites. Never shy of having a word, the band always stayed in the media glare, thanks to the famous Oasis-speak. When the brothers weren’t bad mouthing each other, they were busy laying into other bands. And when there were no bands around to lay into, they were talking about themselves, always crossing the line separating self-confidence from arrogance. If the music was great, the talk was even better. Like the time in 1996, when their record company gifted Noel a Rolls-Royce and Liam a Rolex watch. When asked about it, Noel replied, ‘It’s true, but odd choices for gifts, coz I can’t drive a car and Liam can’t tell the time.’ Their comment about Blur’s ‘Damon (Albarn) and Alex (James) getting AIDs and dying’, at the height of their rivalry in the mid 90s is stuff of legend. Or the oft quoted, ‘We’re not arrogant; we’re just the best band in the world’, variations of which found their way onto the backs of thousands of T-shirts and bumper stickers.

I once thought that the band would ‘Live forever’, and the classic retro melodies would keep coming, but their split is probably a good thing in the end. For demise leads to eventual regeneration. Liam and the rest of the band members are to apparently carry on as ‘Beady Eye’ and Noel will mostly go the solo route. So, twice the music. Bring it on, chaps. For now, a huge thanks for the music. A line off the band’s last (and most assured) album ‘Dig out your Soul’ comes to mind at this juncture. In the soulful ‘I’m outta time’, Liam poignantly asks, ‘If I’m to fall, would you be there to applaud, or would you hide behind the mob?’ I know where I’ll be.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

So you want to be environment-friendly?

2010-06-20T18:09:00.013+08:00

Image via Wikipedia

Here's something particularly interesting courtesy Freemoneyfinance.com

A study mentions that you can save money just by using the correct font on your computer. The researchers here claim that you can save 31% on ink cartridge costs if you use the "right" font over the standard font. The details:

Arial, reigning as the most popular font, was used as the “zero” measurement, against which nine other fonts were tested. The clear winner was Century Gothic, which returned 31% savings in both printers. For the average private user, printing approximately 25 pages per week, this will easily generate a net reduction of $20 in a year. A business-user, printing approximately 250 pages per week, could save $80. If your organization uses multiple printers, you can save hundreds of dollars per year doing nothing more than picking a more economical font.
Century Gothic is a modern font that comes standard with MS Windows. Surprisingly, it even beat Ecofont which was specifically designed with efficiency and cost in mind. For those who require a more “traditional” look, Times New Roman provides a good balance between style and savings.

The fonts in order, starting with most economical, are:

Century Gothic
Ecofont
Times Roman
Calibri
Verdana
Arial
Sans Serif
Trebuchet
Tahoma
Franklin Gothic Medium

So there's something new to try at work.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Robin Hood

2010-06-12T17:33:00.006+08:00

Image via Wikipedia

Ridley Scott and his preferred partner in crime Russell Crowe team up again to bring another popular hero back from the woods, literally in this case, but intelligently, they chose not go down the 'rob from the rich and give to the poor' route. Instead they bring to life a fictional account of how the legend of Robin Hood came to being.

And it works only in bits and pieces, to be honest. Our hero comes across more as Robinus Maximus, an indestructible leftover from you-know-where, rather than an emotionally vulnerable yet supposedly roguishly charming Robin Longstride (who becomes Robin of Loxley and eventually the outlaw Robin of the Hood). The story line is a predictable David v Goliath meets Walk in the Clouds, and perhaps would have even worked if it didn't aim for the high human drama quotient and in turn try to take itself so seriously. And it is here that the film sadly fails. It ends up as lumbering and overdone. The cast does fine, and the battle scenes are to Scott's usual high standard, but the love affair between Marian and Robin is quite 'thanda', evoking almost no emotional connect, while we wait for the film to drag on to its inevitable good vs evil battle royale.

In the end it is a brave attempt, trying to do something new with the Robin Hood story, but the screen play is clunky and overdone and the execution is entirely run-of-the-mill. See this if you must.

2.5/5

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Travel India

2010-05-23T22:56:00.009+08:00

Travelling through India can be both fearfully tiresome and incredibly rewarding at the same time. However, very few countries present such diverse topography for the willing traveler. Add to that the cultural angle, with so many religions, languages, traditions and ethnic groups all existing side by side, and one wonders how the nation has survived more than the sixty years it has. Which is why its a pity that more isn't done to showcase the country as one of the world's premier travel destinations. With the proper infrastructure, maintenance and marketing, India's potential as a travel destination of choice is sure to be realized.

While surfing, I recently came across assorted lists of some must-see places in India. I reproduce an amalgam of a couple of such lists in alphabetical order. Hope this helps. Maybe, the next time you draw up your travel plans, you can look within the country for a perfectly wonderful, memorable and fulfilling trip...

1. Abbey and Iruppu falls
2. Agumbe
3. Ajanta and Ellora caves
4. Alappuzha - Nehru Trophy boat race, Punnamada Lake near Alappuzha, Kerala
5. Amritsar - Early morning at the Golden Temple, Amritsar
6. Andaman

7. Araku Valley - Borra caves near Araku valley of Vizag
8. Auli, Uttaranchal
9. Auroville - Enjoying the tranquil, French cuisine at Auroville
10. Backwaters of Kerala
11. Badami, Pattadkal, Aihole - Chalukya style temples
12. Bandhavgarh tiger reserve
13. Belur Halebidu circuit
14. Bhalukpong - Enjoying a lunch with the Meshing tribe right in the midst of the river Jia Bhareli on the Assam Arunachal border.
15. Bhimbetka - Rock Shelters of Bhimbetka, Madhya Pradesh
16. Bird watching at Ranganathittu, Bharatpur
17. Bodh Gaya - Mahabodhi Temple Complex
18. Brindavan - Playing holi in Brindavan
19. Cherrapunji.
20.Barapani near Shillong.
21. Chilka Lake - Trying to see the horizon during a boat ride in Lake Chilka, Orissa
22. Chopta - Tungnath - Chandrashila trek
23. Coorg - The buddhist monastery at Bylakuppe;
24. Darjeeling to Gangtok - hairpin bends with the river Teesta below
25. Delhi
26. Qutub Minar and its monuments, Delhi
27. Devkund - 30 kms from Chandipur Beach, Orissa, forest with 7 waterfalls
28. Digboi
29. Dilwara Temple, Mount Abu
30. Diu
31. Dodital - Trek to Dodital in Uttarkashi. Dodital is also considered the birth place of Lord Ganesha.
32. Dubare, The Elephant Camp
33. Dudhsagar waterfalls - Goa
34. Fatehpur Sikri
35. Goa on bike
36. Hampi - Ruins of Hampi, requires multiple trips
37. Homestay at a coffee plantation;
38. Hyderabad - Salar Jung Museum, Golconda Fort
39. Hyderabad - The breaking of fast during the Holy month of Ramzan in Hyderabad
40. Jaipur - Elephant ride at Amber Fort, Jaipur
41. Jog Falls in Shimoga (during / after the monsoons)
42. Kaziranga National Park - One horn rhino grazing in the secured environment of KNP
43. Khajuraho
44. Kolkata in the pujas - The Indian Museum, Kalighat temple, Eden Gardens and the Howrah Bridge
45. Kumbakonam -

46. Kumbh - Joining the millions to take a dip in Haridwar during the Kumbh
47. Ladakh - Changing colors of water at Lake Pangong Tso in Ladakh
48. Ladakh - Clouds chasing you on the banks of Lake Tso Morori in Ladakh during the monsoon season
49. Lalabgh, Bangalore
50. Lahaul and Spiti valley
51. Lakshwadeep
52. Lansdowne (Near Pauri, Uttaranchal)
53. Leh

54. Lonawala in Monsoon, esp Bushi Dam and drive to Amby Valley
55. Mahabalipuram - Vishnu's penance at Mahabalipuram
56. Manali
57. McLeodgunj - Watch the monks do the Buddhist rituals in the monasteries of Mcleodgunj
58. Mountain passes - Spending some solitary time with nature at any of the high passes. Khardung La, Taglang La, Lachulung La
59. Mumbai
60. Mukhteshwar
61. Mysore - Dushera Festival, Tipu Sultan Palace
62. Nagarhole national park;
63. Peling near Gangtok, Sikkim
64. Pink City - Walking through the old city section (Pink City) of Jaipur
65. Pondicherry - Sunrise in Pondicherry (while sipping coffee), Paradise Island
66. Ranakpur - 1444 unique marble pillars of Ranakpur Jain temple complex near Udaipur
67. Rann of Kutch
68. Renukaji in Himachal Pradesh
69. Rishikesh - White water rafting
70. Road Trip - Manali to Leh and Leh to Srinagar
71. Roopkund, Bedini Bugyal
72. Sand dunes of Jaisalmer
73. Shillong
74. Shravanabelagola - Climbing 500 steps up a hill to get a glimpse of Bahubali at Shravanabelagola
75. Shungaster Lake, Tawang, Arunachal Pradesh
76. Sikkim - another must see
77. Sun Temple, Konark
78. Sunderbans - Boat cruise in the Sunderban delta
79. Taj Mahal - Sun rise in Taj Mahal at Agra

80. Thanjavur - Great living Chola Temples at Thanjavur, Gangikonda Cholapuram and Darasuram, Tamil Nadu
81. Tiger Watch - Corbett, Bandipur, Kanha, Ranthambore, KNP, Sunderban
82. Tirthan Valley, Himachal Pradesh
83. Tranquebar - tiny seaside place... the only Danish settlement in the country...
84. Valley of Flowers in Uttaranchal - go there while the plants are still there
85. Varanasi - Watching the Thursday evening Maha-aarati on the banks of Ganga at Varanasi from a boat

86. Wayanad

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Vanity Fair

2010-05-12T13:38:00.003+08:00

Come May this year and China will get ready to play host to the World's largest International

fair / exposition in terms of number of visitors. The event, themed ‘Better City, Better Life’, aims to explore different aspects of urban development, sustainability and harmonious growth. Five separately themed pavilions will aim to explore the various facets of this modern phenomenon and attempt to address issues like urban income inequality, resource limitations, urban migration and sustainable growth. Some 70 million people, 240 delegations, 100 heads of state and more than 50 international organisations are expected to visit the fair this year and China has pulled out all the stops to ensure that the event is mounted on a grand scale. When you consider that only around 5 million visitors turned up for the Expo's pervious edition, held in Zaragoza in Spain, you realize the magnitude of the event on hand. And the Chinese are well acquainted with the adage, ‘bigger is better’. The government has till date, spent upwards of 40 billion dollars on upgrading Shanghai’s infrastructure, in addition to the Expo’s budget of 4 billion dollars (which in total makes it more expensive than the Beijing Olympics). Shanghai now has 2 spanking new airport terminals, a competent subway system and a new 700 million dollar riverfront promenade - all aimed at sprucing up the city, which many locals believe is at the cusp of its ‘moment in history’, the Expo being just the trigger needed for the city to announce it’s pre-eminence at the world stage.

Interestingly, the Expo will also be as much about international politics as it will be about urban harmony. The US, unable to use government money to participate in fairs, had initially indicated non participation, but China’s growing clout forced Hillary Clinton to confirm a US pavilion on her last visit. The US government then went on a fund raising spree with the 60 million dollars required coming mainly from donations. Another case in point is American car maker General Motors, which sells more cars in China than it does in its home market. They were one of the first corporates to commit a pavilion at the fair (to showcase their clean technologies). With China’s recent dominance in the world economy, the Expo is as much a show of its current power as it is about making the world’s cities better places to live in. And many countries are happy to play along and cozy upto the Chinese. Japan, eager to mend its historically troubled ties with China, is spending 140 million dollars , a mere 6 million shy of what the Saudis are planning to cough up for their ‘crescent moon’ pavilion. Australia, a country that exports most of its natural resources to China and has generally had amicable relations with the Chinese, is keen to keep things that way and have undertaken to spend 76 million dollars for its participation. India, despite sharing a troubled relationship with the hosts, will spend 50 million dollars and will also fly top film stars and artistes to showcase its soft power. China, once a huge market for the socialist fare churned out by the likes of Raj Kapoor, will get a refresher course in Bollywood (‘Chini Kum’, hopefully not being part of the cinematic offerings) and India will hope for a less rocky road ahead with the Chinese as both powers remain competitors for natural resources to fuel their growing economies.

But there remain concerns though, more for the government than for the participants. China might have to pay a heavy social price for the Expo. In preparation for the games, thousands of city dwellers and business establishments have been shunted out of the city and relocated in remote areas at the peripheries. Many claim little or no compensation for the land lost, which has led to a fair bit of popular discontent among Shanghai’s residents. The Communist Party has paid an even higher price two years ago when it had to suspend its then secretary, Chen Liangyu, on charges of corruption. Chen, who was initially tasked with readying the city for the Expo, went about treating the city as his personal fiefdom, building what many believe to be unnecessary structures like a 290 million dollar tennis complex, an F1 race track and a proposed expensive magnetic levitation rail-line running straight from the Expo to the airport (and eventually linking Shanghai with Hangzhou), which turned out to be the final straw. Public outrage followed as citizens along the intended route were displaced and concerns were raised about magnetic radiation and noise levels. The government eventually had to give into the repeated protests by the activist middle class and investigations were launched into Chen’s dealings, leading to his eventual suspension on charges of fraud. The rail-line was eventually abandoned. Whatever Hu Jintao’s vision of ‘harmonious society’ (which refers to efforts to reduce income inequalities within the country) may be, the arbitrary and sometimes adhoc cosmetic facelift that the city has received may eventually create more discord than harmony, given that very few of the poor will actually benefit from the Expo. Questions still remain about the gainful use of the some of the structures after the fair has run its course. While the country pavilions will be torn down in six months time, the permanent structures may end up being money down the drain.

It is interesting to note that these are similar dilemmas that the Indian government faces as it readies the capital city for the Commonwealth Games, which is supposed to do for New Delhi what the Expo is doing for Shanghai. Urban regeneration, economic growth and the re-imaging of cities are now central themes for countries bidding for world sports events and world fairs alike, and one hopes that both leaderships will exercise foresight and caution in addressing the many real and human challenges which arise as a consequence, else all the billions of dollars spent will ultimately stand out in sharp contrast against the real requirements of the people and dreams of a ‘Better City, Better Life’ will eventually remain...just those.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Kolkata by night...

2010-04-25T13:47:00.005+08:00

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Pancham Unmixed - An unending journey

2010-03-07T15:21:00.004+08:00

An intimate take on the man and his music, Brahamanand Singh’s ‘Pancham Unmixed’ is a documentary long overdue. RD Burman, or Pancham, as he was christened, might not have been quite in the same league as his father, SD Burman, or even other greats of the golden era of Indian cinema, such as Shanker-Jaikishen and OP Nayyar, but for a whole generation growing up in the 70s and 80s, film music started and ended with Pancham. And for good reason – no other composer of the time (with the possible exception of his one-time assistants Laxmikant-Pyarelal) transcended genres as effortlessly as he did, moving from western influences to Indian classical with incredulous ease. And then, almost all of a sudden, in the late 80s and early 90s, the great man was nearly out of work, miserable and lonely, and craving that one commercial success. The success came soon afterwards and how…but sadly, ‘RD’ never lived to pop the bubbly.

Singh’s documentary takes a look at the rise, fall, redemption and legacy of RD Burman through the eyes of his colleagues and contemporaries, and cheerfully, he gets access to film luminaries like Shammi Kapoor, Asha Bhosle, Gulshan Bawra, Laxmikant, Rishi Kapoor, Javed Akhtar, Shailendra Singh, Bhupinder, Pandit Hari Prasad Chaurasia, Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma, Vinod Chopra, Manna Dey and many more. Most of the interviewees share their personal memories of Pancham and many lesser known anecdotes come to light, such as the time in the 60s when he used to pass off his own tunes as his father’s, just to get producers to give him a serious listen (as narrated by Asha Bhosle) and his personal trauma when ‘Saagar’ failed at the box-office in 1985. Viewers are also introduced to devoted ‘RD’ accompanists, the likes of Manohari Singh, Kesri Lord and Louis Banks, with whom he made some of his most lilting soundtracks. These gifted musicians take us through Pancham’s music making process and describe his predilection for new sounds, new technologies and innovative recording techniques. For 1982’s ‘Satte Pe Satta’, when a suitably eerie background score was required to introduce the hero’s evil look alike, ‘RD’ asked singer Annette Pinto to gargle a tune to create the score! It’s a memorable piece of music and it is indeed difficult to think of any other composer who could have pulled this off with any degree of credibility. The film, fittingly, takes a look at some of RD’s background scores, which are in no way inferior to his more popular film songs; films like ‘Sholay’, ‘Satte Pe Satta’ and ‘Kitaab’ being cases in point.

And what of legacy? RD Burman’s ageless body of work speaks for itself and therefore, it is no coincidence that he remains one of the most remixed composers today. We also have some of

today’s leading music composers talking about the effect that Pancham’s music has had on them. In the often brash and irreverent world of Bollywood, it is refreshing to see a bit of ready admiration, especially where it’s overdue. Shankar-Ehsan-Loy, Vishal Bhardwaj and Shantanu Moitra, all enumerate instances of Pancham’s influence in their compositions. RD’s universal appeal is nowhere more aptly demonstrated than in this segment of the film.

But the film’s most engaging interviewees are easily Vinod Chopra, who stuck by the composer in the days he was out of work, and for whom he delivered the peerless ‘1942- A Love Story’ score in a fitting ‘coup-de-grace’ to the naysayers, and Gulzar, with whom ‘RD’ made some of his finest music. The lyricist and film-maker sparkles in the film, and with almost childlike enthusiasm, enumerates anecdote after anecdote from their legendary association, like a particularly stressful time during the recording of the song ‘Mera kuch samaan’ from ‘Ijazat’, when a harried ‘RD’, confused with the unusual structure of the song, had remarked to him, ‘What do you want me to compose next? The headlines of the Times of India?’ The Oscar winner is clearly emotional as he remembers ‘RD’ and his music and it is perhaps this shared emotional thread that combined to give us such breathtaking soundtracks like, ‘Libaas’, ‘Aandhi’, ‘Kinara’, ‘Parichay’ and ‘Ijazat’.

For all its virtues, however, ‘Pancham Unmixed’ is not a perfect product. In some respects, it just about whets the appetite. There is only a passing reference to his association with Lata Mangeshkar, who sang some of his best tunes (Perhaps Asha Bhosle had something to say about that?). There is also practically no reference to RD’s other great association, the one with the mercurial Kishore Kumar. While Amit Kumar is extensively interviewed, no questions about his father’s partnership with ‘RD’ are posed and a priceless opportunity goes a begging. While much is made known of his first marriage to Rita Patel and their subsequent divorce, and the ultimately melancholic effect it had on the soundtrack of 1971’s ‘Amar Prem’, we learn almost nothing new about his second marriage to Asha Bhosle. She chooses to remain tightlipped about their personal life, and provides refurbished standard-issue, instead of anything original or insightful about their relationship, which gives the film a certain run-of-the-mill eulogistic quality. But in the end, it is perhaps, as Pancham fans, our impatience to find that complete depository of all things Pancham, that we demand sun and the moon.

For RD Burman fans, the fact that this film never got a wider release is indeed a great disservice. But with the DVD release, this becomes a collectible. Even for those who aren’t ‘RD’-bhakts, this serves as an interesting primer to the man, his world, his music and his legacy. The linear, conversational narrative of the film manages to be engaging enough throughout and avoids flippancy and repetition. Its sharp editing does not necessarily compliment the film, as even the healthy running time of an hour and fifty minutes seems ever so brief. This one deserved to ‘Chalte Jaana’ some more.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Peeking into 2010

2010-02-21T17:55:00.008+08:00

It was author Bill Vaughn who said, ‘An optimist stays up until midnight to see the New Year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves.’ Every year gives us enough reason to be both, up until the curious phenomenon of year end list-making ensues. Most people, including yours truly, have the happy but ultimately pointless habit of taking time off to sit back for more than a few moments at the end of each year to look back at the year that was. And when after much deliberation, we get absolutely nowhere in our simultaneous search for closure and renewed vigor, we gladly let miscellaneous media persons do the exercise for us. The subsequent year then seemingly zips by in our attempts to keep our heads above water, and the inevitable cycle of wasteful year-end procrastination continues. In my experience, looking ahead has always proven to be more fruitful than looking back and in keeping with this spirit we bring you some trends and predictions for the coming year.

So do not dwell too much on the year gone by. It would suffice to mention that 2009 was undoubtedly a volatile year. The past year seemed an almost appropriate conclusion to a decade during which the world (and India) wobbled from one crisis to another. Much remains work in progress, but here’s looking at the issues that will keep 2010 in the news. One doesn’t like to prophecy, but as and when we can, we will allow for some indulgence. It’s the New Year, after all!

The Obama myth

2010 will be the year when the world will not be saved by Barrack Obama. Proclamation of his being the new ‘apostle of great hope’ will prove to be the most debunked prediction since Lord Haldane’s lofty prophecy in 1907; when he had smugly remarked, ‘The aeroplane will never fly’. If 2009 was any indication, with the twin embarrassments of the Nobel Prize and the gate-crashers at the state dinner, 2010 should be quite entertaining. His war on terror continues with no end in sight, with his popularity diving after his decision to send more troops into the evermore complicated Af-Pak region. Iraq still remains hostile and Osama Bin Laden has perhaps long given up trying to hide from the US forces. His health care reforms remain in limbo and unemployment in the US stays in double digits (and will continue to do so). His comprehensive finance reforms are just a twinkle in his eye and Iran has yet to be constructively engaged. The senate elections in November might well prove a further dampener for his administration. Things could yet be salvaged, but time is running out for Barry.

The passing of the perfect storm?

The world, and the US in particular, is still recovering from the financial cardiac arrest that it suffered in 2008, and much of the coming year will be spent recovering from that jolt. World

economies will remain sluggish and per IMF estimates, world GDP will rise by little over 2% in 2010. The US Dollar is stated to lose traction in the coming year with American deficits at record levels. Gold will continue to glitter, not needing India’s Diwali-time binge-buying. While the scenario is a tad better than what we witnessed in 2009, the danger of deflation will be well and truly real, especially in the US. All that money thrown at the economic system by world

governments will now try to find itself back into state coffers, but this will not be very easy to

execute. Hence inflation will be a serious threat in emerging economies with healthy growth rates. Already we have seen food prices in India climb 18% over the last few months. Growth will be led largely by Asian giants China and India, who will chug along nicely with expected 6%-8% growth rates. Hiring in emerging economies will resume and happily, most of us can finally look forward to that bonus in 2010!

Pocket power

If the nineties culminated in the fear of the Y2K bug and planes falling out the sky, the 'naughties' was undoubtedly the decade of the internet. If 2009 was the year of Social Networking websites, Google Wave, 3G, and Windows 7, 2010 is poised to be the year when 'mobility' becomes the new buzzword. Netbooks did provide some of the conveniences and functionalities of a full-fledged notebook, but going forward, the Netbook will most likely get junked for the soon-to-ubiquitous 'Smartphone'. Convergence will be the new mantra and the cell phone will take over our lives like never before. So if your wallet allows, your next phone could well come with a camera more powerful than the fancy DSLR you bought last year, more storage capacity than your laptop's memory and more applications you could ever amuse yourself with. Samsung, Acer, Nokia and Toshiba all have new Smartphone launches lined up during the year. Also, expect Google to take on Apple’s I-phone in a big way. Device functionalities will blur with the Smartphone being capable of doing anything and more that a house full of appliances could erstwhile assist you with, apart from perhaps washing your clothes and keeping your veggies fresh! And with the 3G auction in India set for February, net surfing speeds promise to get lightening fast. With a 500 million-strong and growing market, expect competition to heat up in this space.

The other area where the action will heat up will be 'Cloud Computing', which simply means working on and storing your files and applications online. While this is still in a nascent stage, expect more widespread acceptance. 'Google Docs' is already a reality. Back-ups will cease to be a problem and as long as you have an internet connection, you'll be fine.

On the flip side, with Web 2.0 programs like Twitter and Facebook proliferating exponentially, and with subsequently more and more personal information being available on these forums, expect your accounts to be hacked at least once during the coming year. Some things like password security, will sadly, never change!

The ‘Cup of Life’ will overflow…

2010 will be a year of special sporting spectacle. The soccer World Cup will kick off in South Africa, with the rainbow nation hosting the event for the first time. All eyes will therefore be on the African countries, of which Cameroon and Ivory Coast (with Drogba and Toure in their ranks) probably stand a fair crack at the quarter finals. However, it will in the end most likely be a punch-up between the traditional heavyweights – Brazil, Argentina, Italy, France, Portugal and Germany. Given the track record of the country in hosting large events, a successful and enjoyable tournament is an easy prediction. This perhaps cannot be said of the Commonwealth Games scheduled to be held in our own backyard in New Delhi. With much of the infrastructure still in a mess, completing the games village in time will seem like quite an achievement, never mind the necessary trial runs. The current assurances from the establishment seem as facetious as John McEnroe pleading to let his racquet do the talking. A fiasco is predicted, but the grand old Indian tradition of ‘jugaad’ will most likely see us through a possible national embarrassment. Sports enthusiasts can also watch out for the Youth Olympics to be held in Singapore this year. Somewhere in between, ICC will milk its latest cash cow, the T20 game and the overkill will continue with the West Indies hosting the third T20 World Cup. India’s form in the shortest format has been patchy at best and will perhaps exit in the knock out stages. The Aussies will want to win the one trophy that’s missing from their cabinet, and come really hard. Sri Lanka, South Africa and the West Indies will be dark horses. In the test arena, the battle for supremacy will heat up with the No.1 position frequently changing hands between India, South Africa and Australia.

The third dimension

3D cinema will prove to be the next big draw. So get yourselves a fashionable pair of 3D glasses. James Cameron’s ‘Avatar’ has already proven to be an all time blockbuster. And there’s more where that came from. 2010 will see other big films in 3D like ‘Alice in Wonderland’, ‘Shrek Forever After’ and ‘Toy Story 3’. The coming year will also be the year of the ‘reprise’ with film-makers remaking many older classics. So prepare to revisit films like ‘A Nightmare on Elm Street’, ‘The A-Team’, ‘Clash of the Titans’ and ‘Gulliver’s Travels’, all sexed-up for generation-next. One predicts a mixed year for sequels, with Oliver Stone’s ‘Wall Street -2’ hopefully doing well and ‘Saw-part infinity’ (I lost count after part 4) bombing at the box-office. The mercurial Robert Downey Jr., will clearly take over the alpha male mantle in the industry, with a hat-trick of hits in ‘Sherlock Holmes’, ‘Iron Man – 2’ and ‘Due Date’. Closer home, Bollywood will continue to churn out its usual fare, but the coming year will be more of a test for the great Indian novel. Adaptations of Chetan Bhagat’s ‘3 mistakes of my life’ and Anuja Chauhan’s ‘Zoya Factor’ have been announced. Manini Chatterjee’s ‘Do and Die’ has become Ashutosh Gowarikar’s ‘Kheley Hum Jee Jaan Se’. The significant drawback of the coming year, ostensibly, appears to be the lack of an Aamir Khan release.

The good will out, virtually

One need only look at the Obama campaign and the use of social networking websites to understand that the power to change is finally with the people… (with internet access).Thanks to the proliferation of Web 2.0, social networking and internet ubiquity, 2010 looks to be the year when social activism will explode on the web. Significant and concerted efforts will be made by motivated, but geographically dispersed people who will connect over a common cause and a

shared purpose. Messages will be spread fast and immediate awareness of issues will assist in,

hopefully, effecting meaningful change. A case in point being the website‘change.org’. The web will also allow for more supple, personalized and precious opportunities for volunteer labor. Apart from Wikipedia, Silicon Valley-based ‘The Extraordinaries’, will allow users to accept work that matches their interests with skill sets – compute taxes, teach a language, offer medical consultancy – and complete these at leisure, through the web. While barriers between people and governments generally cause discord and conflict and take ages to breach, cheerfully, this fast contravening barrier between the virtual and real will quickly collapse, and it will help.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

This article first appeared in the February 2010 issue of 'KINDLE'

Life...in 5 bottles

2010-02-16T23:38:00.003+08:00

My name is Khan

2010-02-13T23:47:00.004+08:00

Well, it could have been a lot worse. Think women sobbing while continuing to look gorgeous in perfect costumes and make-up, and Shah Rukh Khan running in slow motion, with loud temple bells ringing in the background. Karan Johar, or the all grown up KJo, in his latest attempt, thankfully, chucks out his usual film making manual, moves closer to reality and serves up a memorable, almost 'Forrest Gump'-ian character in Rizvan Khan, and well... thats about it.

The film, which not unlike 'Forrest Gump', uses a challenged protagonist as the eyes through which a period of time is examined, in this case the period being between 1983 and 2009. The film poses as a love story, but quite clearly has surreptitiously lofty ambitions, and it is on this account that it fails, as it indubitably takes on more than it can handle with any degree of coherence. The value of love and family, Hindu-Muslim harmony, post 9/11 paranoia, Muslim alienation and America's recent turmoil with natural disasters (read Katrina), and the country's new found hope for a better future, are all taken on here. After Rizvan Khan's step son is killed in a post 9/11 induced, racially motivated attack, his wife leaves him and in a fit of anger asks him to explain his religion to the president of the United States. Suffering from Aspergers Syndrome, Khan is wont to take this literally and sets out to meet the most powerful man in the world with his message, and in the process becomes an unlikely hero across the country. One gets the the feeling that if the film had focussed entirely on the protagonist's journey to meet the President, with his message of peace, it could have been more powerful. But instead we are fed needless back stories in flashback after flashback, through numerous vignettes of Khan's life, his love story and his family life. And in doing so, we are introduced to several competent supporting actors who deserve more than the walk on roles they get. Jimmy Shergill, Vinay Pathak, Praveen Dabbas and the divine Sonya Jehan are wasted in the parts they get (which is a real pity). Perhaps only Zarina Wahab, playing Khan's compassionate mother and the 2 young actors playing the journos who take up Khan's case after his incarceration, register any sort of lasting impact on the viewer.

This is of course entirely Shah Rukh Khan's film. And King Khan puts in a winning performance as the Aspergers afflicted Rizvan Khan. He is consistent in his portrayal and really gets stuck in to the part. Here's to more such experiments. Kajol, in another effortless turn, supports him well enough but SRK goes one better in this one. The film's music, however is a bit of let down. KJo's films generally have fine sound tracks and Shankar Ehsan Loy don't do justice to the film, apart form a couple of soothing numbers. The writing is mostly good, though inconsistent (watch out for a couple of signature KJo moments).The film, shot with an entirely international crew, is visually arresting, with Ravi K Chandran doing a bang up job with the cinematography.

This is a welcome departure for KJo and the film should be seminal in SRK's filmography. It's heart is in the right place, but is let down by execution. The film's opening sequences raise much hope, only to be belied soon after, as the viewer battles tedium. Kuch kuch hua Karan, but only just.

2.5 /5

Cheers!
Abhishek.

Waiting at the ‘Red’ signal

2010-02-05T15:01:00.006+08:00

In spite of Sino-Indian relations having turned a tad acrimonious over the last few months, China’s

seemingly most important export to India, Maoism, seems to be flourishing. India’s home grown Maoists, control more than forty thousand square kilometers of predominantly tribal dominated land, and their continuous sparing with state authorities continues. This begs the question of Maoism’s relevance in today’s markedly different economic and social framework.

To answer this, we must first look at its effects in history. Let’s see how it went in China. Clearly it’s a 50-50 there. While some Chinese historians and sections of the intelligentsia believe that the

foundations of today’s strong and resurgent China were laid in the principals of Maoism, others dispute its positive effects in nation building. The ‘Great Leap Forward’, launched in 1958, left more than 15 million rural Chinese succumbing to famine while 1966’s ‘Cultural Revolution’ left a similar number dead and even more disillusioned. Mao left China in the worst possible condition, both financially and socially, only to be rescued by Deng Xiaoping’s free-market leaning economic reforms. In Nepal, the Maoists joined the political mainstream and won the elections, but their success as a credible alternative is yet to be seen. In Peru, the Maoists, represented by the Shining Path party are a condemned lot, for the perpetration of violence against trade unions, elected officials and civilians alike, and are regarded as a brutal and violent terrorist organization. So, Maoism’s record in bringing about social change and harmony isn’t particularly shining. Should, then, its relevance to democratic India be regarded as minimal at best, and its tenets banished as a romantic idea about self sacrifice and greater good, rather than a seriously workable theory?

Not entirely. The growth of Maoism in India has actually done the country’s democracy and economic policy a rather large favor. It has clearly proven that our nation’s fundamental doctrines are still evolving and are flawed in their current identity. While it has succeeded in uplifting millions from the clutches of poverty and indignity, it has completely ignored a whole other demographic from its purview. And this non-included segment, mainly the tribal aggregations of the forest belt, has served as a laboratory of expression for the Maoists. Years of state apathy, abysmal levels of government engagement and complete lack of developmental initiatives have left these people disillusioned, wary and in need of a voice. The ‘red army’ has filled this need. Crucially though, this voice needs to be listened to. While the violence should be rightly decried, condemned and even actively suppressed by the government, the focus on the greater picture must not be lost. These areas need as much attention and engagement from the state as do other parts of the country. Development opportunities are a plenty with scores of organizations waiting to utilize these natural resource rich areas. The government’s sensitive handling of these proposals will no doubt play a huge part and getting the locals to participate in the area’s development should be the right result. This, clearly, must be supplemented by immediate attention to social infrastructure and education.

Till this is achieved, our journey to being a truly pluralistic and inclusive democracy will remain indefinitely delayed - at the 'red' signal.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Tiger, Tiger, Burning...not so bright?

2010-01-17T12:23:00.005+08:00

Tiger Woods’ cupboard just doesn’t seem big enough, does it? More and more women seem to tumble out of it, only to spill sordid details of their illicit liaisons with the ace golfer to the highest bidder. The press and the media in general are having a field day in the process and laughing all the way to the bank. If it’s about anything even marginally striped, it appears to sell. In the melee, I am seriously half-tempted to claim a tempestuous relationship with Tiger myself, in a bid to make a quick and easy pile of cash from it all. I missed out on the property bubble and only the very imprudent would repeat their mistakes. Of course, as plan B, there is also my ‘I slept with Tiger Woods’ T-Shirt idea.

But in the end, my money making schemes will depend largely on the media keeping the story alive, the paying public’s continual obsession with celebrities. And though media memory can be short, the latter, as someone should no doubt tell Tiger, will almost always subsist. The media has done a bang up job so far, one has to admit, milking the story for all its worth. So is the trial by media justified? A lot of people ask if he really deserves this. After all, he’s a professional golfer, not a preachy clergyman. But all the advocates of the ‘leave Tiger alone’ andolan seem to forget that celebrity status, the very essence of the piece, is a many-edged sword. Didn’t Tiger sign up for this? Surely he couldn’t have been this naïve, so as to expect to be left alone by the tabloids in his moment of ‘personal sin’? Hero worship is welcome when things go well, and coverage should cease when transgressions abound? Champions are made of sterner stuff, na?Any number of celebs actively court publicity and attention when it helps their cause and strangely play the privacy card when it doesn't. They make a fat pile of cash from all the brouhaha, to boot. Millions of dollars were spent to cultivate the image of the perfect athlete, in

Tiger’s case. PR machines, celebrity consultants and corporate support were ever-ready and it all helped to bring home the millions for Tiger. Sure, we don’t need to print funny T-shirts, or even print juicy stories about him in newspapers and glossy rags, or pay his mistresses to divulge the good bits (and the not so good ones), but then, neither do we need to drink Gatorade, wear Rolex, and employ Accenture. To justify the billion dollar endorsement deals, there’s always the demand and supply argument, isn’t there? Excess media attention? Same same, not different.

While intense media scrutiny is admittedly part and parcel of public life, there are some lines that need to be drawn. I am in no way justifying some of the means that news reporters or the paparazzi use to get you the latest dirt. No hidden cameras and stalking please. We don’t want another Princess Di to happen. But, on the assumption that boundaries of decency, good sense and basic journalistic ethics are not breached, I see no reason for Tiger to complain about the excessive coverage his story is receiving.

So zip up, Tiger, and stop whining. The cameras will go way only when there’s a better story. And, in the meanwhile, if you find it amusing, I have this T-shirt idea…

This article first appeared in January 2010 edition of 'KINDLE'.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Have a great 2010!

2010-01-01T12:46:00.006+08:00

Seasons greetings! Here's wishing everyone a fabulous 2010 ahead. It's been a tumultuous decade, with the last couple of years being especially trying. But things aren't always as bad as they seem, and being a bit of an optimist when it comes to predicting the future, I'm sure things will carry on well enough in the coming decade...

Here's a few words from Outlook's Vinod Mehta on the year that went by and the need for a dash of temperability -

"Take 2009. We thought that the Satyam scandal would seriously shake international confidence in our prestigious and profitable software industry. (Our software industry continues to be a cash cow and is still universally admired.) We thought Varun Gandhi’s hate speeches would communalise the general election. (Nothing of that sort happened, no communal incidents took place.) We thought the stockmarket, having crashed, would never recover, leading scores of investors to suicide and the country to financial ruin. (The Sensex is currently buoyant and might soon hit 20000). We thought that the world’s first pandemic this century, swine flu, would result in mass fatalities. (The pandemic has blown away, less than 200 people in India died.) We thought the expulsion of Jaswant Singh for writing a provocative but boring book would mean disaster for the bjp and its extinction as a serious political formation. (After some hiccups, a fresh, young, eager team is in place; Mr Advani is very much around, and wonder of wonders, there is talk of Mr Jaswant Singh going “home”). We thought the entry of Barack Obama into the White House would usher in a brave, new world with the United States mending its ways. (President Obama is doing terribly and Uncle Sam, as visible in Copenhagen, has not changed his stripes.)

Cheers!

Abhishek.

The really tough Bollywood quiz - Answers

2009-12-13T09:37:00.002+08:00

Here are the answers to the quiz which appeared a couple of posts ago -

1. 'Raja Harishchandra', India's first full length feature film.

2. She also suggested the names Jahangir and Vasudev.

3. V. Shantaram's 'Do Ankhen Barah Haath'.

4. 1950's 'Sangraam'.

5. Salil Chowdhury got Dilip Kumar to sing with Lata Mangeshkar in Hrishikesh Mukherjee's first film as director, 'Musafir'.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Paa

2009-12-06T13:43:00.008+08:00

Somewhere in Mahesh Bhatt's 1987 release, ‘Kaash’, Dimple Kapadia lets out a heart-rending scream when her teenage son passes away. She is joined in a similar show of grief by her husband played by Jackie Shroff. It was a high melodrama moment, and Bhatt pulled it off well enough, but in the end it was loud, a tad over the top and almost demanding of the audience’s sympathy. Refreshingly, for a similarly themed film, we are spared such moments in R.Balki’s ‘Paa’.

Nothing new about the story at all, but it’s the treatment that’s wonderfully disarming. Balki’s fascination with terminally ill children continues in this ‘dying-kid-reunites-the-parents’ plot and to mix things up, he uses a rare genetic condition (this is no ‘Taare Zameen Par’, so the disease is only incidental and we're spared lengthy sermonizing), Bachchan Sr. to play a small boy, sharply edited flashbacks and brilliant dialogue. And the final product is a warm, charming and heartwarming little film, almost a celluloid equivalent of the perfect cup of Darjeeling with an old friend, on a rainy day.

Amitabh Bachchan’s Auro is indeed the star of the film. With a new face, a new voice and a twinkling sense of humor, Bachchan’s Auro is as sensitive as he is precocious and the film’s writers leave all the best lines for him. And they work almost every time. Its Auro’s world that’s so enchanting, so much so that the film could have been entirely about his life, his school friends and his aspirations and worked just as well. But then they all say we need a plot.

So we have the parents Abhishek Bachchan and Vidya Balan, then both students, who find themselves at crossroads in their relationship, when they realize that they have a kid on the way. However, papa wants to be a cool politician and suggests abortion. Mama predictably tells papa not to preach and exits stage left from his life, saying, ‘I’m keeping my baby.’ Baby grows up to be Auro, and accidentally meets his father at a school function, thereby unwittingly paving the way for his long estranged parents to reunite. Weirdly enough, for a film advertised as a father son story, it’s actually the boy’s relationship with the ladies in his house, his mother and his grandmother that are more endearing to watch. Bachchan shares crackling chemistry with both Balan and Naag, as well as with the child actor who plays his best friend Vishnu.

But this isn't a perfect film by any stretch of the imagination. Abhishek Bachchan’s political machinations are distracting after a point and screen time devoted to his battle with the media is wholly unnecessary. An uneven Paresh Rawal, as Auro’s grandfather doesn’t add anything to the proceedings apart from a couple of funny one-liners. Maestro Ilaiyaraaja’s music, while soothing, could have been used to make more of an impact, the violin laden background score notwithstanding.

Cheerful, poignant, sensitive and intelligent, ‘Paa’ is great fun.

3.5/5

Cheers!

Abhishek.

The really tough Bollywood quiz

2009-12-06T08:51:00.005+08:00

Here is something for movie buffs to chew on -

1. The premiere of which famous Indian film was preceded by a novelty programme which included Miss Irene Del Mar performing a duet and dance movement, a comical sketch by the McClements, a juggler called Alexander the Wonderful Foot Juggler and some comic shorts advertised as Tip Top Comics?

2. When Devika Rani was mulling over giving Dilip Kumar his first break in 'Jwar Bhata', she made it clear that his original name of Yousef Khan would not work. So she suggested three names, one of them being Dilip Kumar. What were the other two?

3. Much before India (rightly or wrongly) took pride over 'Slumdog Millionaire' going on an award winning spree at the Golden Globes and the Oscars, which Indian film won the first Golden Globe for India?

4. Morarji Desai, then the CM of Bombay, told Ashok Kumar, "You have to do two things Mr, Ashok Kumar. First you have to withdraw your film from the cinemas and this you must do tomorrow. The second is my request to you - please play the role of an honest police officer." Desai then banned Ashok Kumar's film after its successful sixteen week run, the film's only apparent fault being the portrayal of a bad cop by the film's hero, Ashok Kumar. Which film was this?

5. Much before the fad of getting heroes like Amitabh Bachchan, Aamir Khan and Shahrukh Khan to sing songs in their films, Dilip Kumar, sang his own song for which of his early films?

Answers soon.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

The perfect Calcutta meal?

2009-11-22T12:32:00.002+08:00

Nondon Bagchi comes up with what he feels is the quintessential Bengali meal. Sample this article from The Telegraph -

"Apologies are a good way to begin just about anything. Having been asked to choose my favourite nine items from Calcutta’s food menu, I am sure there will be acts of commission and omission that will ruffle the feathers of many. There is every chance, given the amazing canvas of culinary bliss we enjoy without realising it, that this would happen even if I had to choose 99.

Before I begin, a few riders that have governed and limited the freedom of choice.

One. Even if I have enjoyed, for example, the most delicious Pan They Khowsuey, a Burmese-style gravy made of pork and with garnishings including shrimp powder, I have had it in someone’s home, so it can’t be on today’s hit parade. Just like so many other temptations not available at city outlets or even through caterers, and even if available, certainly not the best I’ve had.

Two. Despite having indulged in gluttony for decades, there are still delights I have not had the good fortune to have tried; there are some which I do not even know about, especially more recent add-ons to the city’s culinary scene. In a nutshell, today’s hit parade will have items that have been chosen from an extremely personal viewpoint, and they are also ones that have been around for decades. I am starting with starters and snacks, and, like a good Bengali, graduating from vegetarian dishes to non-veg ones and ending with desserts. With due respect for those who might grumble...

1. Phuchka

A symbol of Calcutta’s pride. Of course we think it is better than paani puri (Mumbai) or golgappa (Delhi) but so do many non-Calcuttans. My favourite vendor is Ramesh Pandit near Lake Kali Bari. Sublime is an understatement. Used to eat 33 of them for a rupee, and would even ask for one paise change. Some vendors sell humongous sized ones nowadays, but even the sacred phuchka has changed with the clientele. You can even find them on menus nowadays...

2. Prawn Cocktail

With the exit of Sky Room, the city also lost, arguably, the best prawn cocktail in the world. At least, as good as the best. Good enough to be flown to Delhi almost every week for Mrs Indira Gandhi. Sky Room’s secret must have been in the mayonnaise-based sauce. But One Step Up! on Park Street does a good job, and this piece of Calcutta nostalgia can still be a hit parade.

3. Paper Dosa

Named thus because the dosa is wafer thin and crisp, this is a humdinger with good sambhar and coconut chutney. Personally, I am easy whether there is a potato vegetable stuffing or not. Sadly, sambhar in Calcutta somehow just loses out to sambhar in Chennai, even though the cooks, ingredients and knowhow are from there. Must be the air and/or water. But Prema Vilas, Calcutta’s oldest south Indian place in Lake Market is my place for Paper Dosa.

4. Chop Cutlet platter

Not singling out one item here, because whether it is the mochar chop, deemer devil, fish roll, kabiraji cutlet or the moghlai paratha or any other item from this school of thought and taste, they all are winners. Created and invented by this city in a wave of inspiration, the egg-and-crumbed (or flour-batter-and-crumbed) thrillers can put you into orbit, especially with a good zingy mustard, courtesy Bubai Caterers of north Calcutta.

5. Chimney Soup

Takes me back to 1975 to Eau Chew Restaurant on Ganesh Chandra Avenue. Coal-fired chimney in the middle of a great trough filled with chicken stock, meat and fish balls, gizzard, kidney and other meat and other such goodies cooking in the bubbling stock. Break eggs and poach them in the stock, cook your noodles and greens in the stock, make your meal-in-a-dish and discover what life is all about. Eau Chew is still there, and so is their Hot Pot. Better to phone in and place an order.

6. Chitol Maachher Jhol

How come a Bengali has only one fish dish in the pop charts? Because we usually eat fish away from home with a bit of disdain. But this item, where chitol (featherback fish) is cut right across the mid-riff in one-inch thick steaks, rib-cage bones (almost as thick as chicken bones) and all, and cooked in a serious, thick, garlic-onion-ginger paste and tomato gravy, is almost never done in homes, and my first encounter was in a “pice hotel”. Today, you get a good version at Kewpie’s.

7. Kosha Mangsho

One can write an ode to this dish. My best is still from Shyambazar’s Golbari, which has had closures and reopenings, but is up and running right now and that should herald a winter of content. With their secret-formula chapattis which look as if they have only just been rolled out but not cooked, and yet are gossamer soft and done to perfection, Kosha Mangsho might even land you in a divorce case…

8. Gelato

With the advent of Mama Mia! and Italian-style ice creams (the real McCoy), there has been no looking back for ice cream lovers, even though the city has had a good track record with these, with some really good offerings. My top flavour is Forest Berries, with the gelato laced with a syrup containing mulberry, blackberry, raspberry and other potent fruits.

9. Mishti Doi

By Jadab Das. As I said, I am being personal. Mishti doi, available in thousands of outlets, has given rise to much debate, but Jadab Das near Triangular Park is my choice. Pure cows’ milk only, almost pure white in colour, a slight tang and so light and tasteful at the same time that I can put away 700g without batting an eyelid. Its non-rich texture also invites add-ons like warm gulab jamun.

A final note: Many, many dishes not included, including beef steak. Sad, because we have world-class beef in Calcutta shops. Maybe the steak I do myself?"

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Book review: The Story Of My Assassins by Tarun J Tejpal

2009-11-18T23:45:00.007+08:00

For inspiration, Tarun Tejpal’s second novel, ‘The Story Of My Assassins’, draws heavily from his own challenging days at Tehelka, the defense-deal sting operation, communalism, the Bhagawad Gita (which seems to be every contemporary Indian writer’s current fetish) and Bollywood and it shapes up to be one heck of a rollicking read. It is a huge challenge to the reader, as it is continually disheartening, depressing and gloomy; offering no hope at all in the end, but by golly, a story of so much misery and hopelessness has never been this heartfelt, passionate, engrossing and beautiful.

The nameless protagonist, a journalist, is informed by the police of a foiled plot to assassinate him. Five suspects are rounded up, jailed and put on trial. But the journalist’s firebrand ‘social-reformer’ mistress, Sara, smells a government conspiracy and thinks that the suspects are victims themselves, victims of their own pathetic and degrading circumstances as well as that of the corrupt collusion between selfish politicos in power and the entire state machinery, which is twisted and turned for profit by the self-conserving political class. She decides, with the help of a couple of smitten lawyers, to investigate the matter herself. The action then serializes to the back stories of the five suspected assassins before closing in on the truth about the attempted assassination.

As we are taken through the lives of the five assassins, we meet our own countrymen that we never meet in real life. People who, like many millions of Indians, are born on the fringes, and silently die there. People who suffer the worst forms of degradation, poverty and state apathy. People who therefore either lose the will to live altogether or murder, kill, rape and steal for the most flimsy and insubstantial causes. People who have absolutely no hope, from the moment they are born to the moment they succumb to their wretched circumstances. The five assassins, Chaku, Kabir M, Chini, Kaliya and Hathoda Tyagi are all such people, each a victim of the everyday violence and horror of an India that exists outside the realm of urban sensibilities. Unlike Balram Halwai, these are no ‘White Tigers’, and in that respect ‘The Story Of My Assassins’ is easily the more definitive ‘other’ India book, even more so than either Mr. Adiga’s, Mr. Chandra’s or Mr. Swaroop’s. At one point, Chaku’s father hopes that his son’s birth will somehow uplift him from penury, but as Tejpal poignantly points out, “in the end it is always just one more mouth to feed”. While structured as a mystery thriller, this is in fact a simultaneously disturbing and moving social and human drama that deserves serious attention.

But this is not where the list of qualities ends. Tejpal’s characterizations deserve special mention. Each character in the novel is well etched, distinct, real and memorable. The feisty mistress Sara, the self preserving elitist and Kafka-quoting Jai (the protagonists’ business partner), the well meaning policeman, Hathi Ram, the protagonist’s spiritual counselor, ‘Guruji’ (whose oblique wisdom is as the same time confusing and enlightening), the typically wily, but drunk on ‘money-sex-power’ Delhi power-broker, Kapoor Sahib and indeed the selfish, almost nihilistic protagonist himself are all spot on. They all have their indigenous and quirky wisdoms. Sample this – when the protagonist asks the journeyman police officer Hathi Ram if he would like another cup of tea, Hathi Ram responds thus – “One cup is friendship. Two is intimacy. And that is always reductive. As friends we talk about big things, philosophical things and national affairs. But in intimacy we will talk about wives and bosses and the price of milk and vegetables, and we will become small men obsessed with small things. So no more tea, my friend, no more.” It is also to Tejpal’s credit that he manages to infuse a sardonic sense of humor into the proceedings, a necessary trait while dealing with a stark subject such as this. Almost every page offers something genuinely funny, which makes the reader smile and wince at the same time. While taking us through the early years of Kaliya and Chini, boys who grow up on the platforms of Delhi, Tejpal, incredibly, even manages to make death a subject of much mirth.

What Maximum City was to Mumbai, ‘The Story of My Assassins’ is to Delhi specifically and the Hindi heartland in general. Delhi is cut open and all its veins and sinews are opened for viewing, resplendent in all its colors, particularly red, the color of power and blood, and exposed as a city where the nexus of politics, religion, goons, money, industry and power is at its strongest. Tejpal’s observant eye encompasses both grandeur and destitution alike and brings the city, its people and their idiosyncrasies alive amongst the pages like never before in recent memory.

The only trivial objection one can possibly have with the author is that he takes on a multitude of issues, trying to deal with practically everything that is wrong with the country. But the final product still manages to avoid being flippant or preachy.

This wonderfully textured tour-de-force is easily worthy of your bookshelf and it is bound to get better with every subsequent read. India has many realities and here is a chance to look at the more ‘real’ ones, the ones which don’t get played out in ‘chutterputter’ English, the ones which get no media air time, the ones which make our country what it is.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Ajab Prem Ki Ghazab Kahani

2009-11-07T20:22:00.006+08:00

I always had a minor gripe with almost all of Rajkumar Santoshi's films. He could never do songs right. Less noble directors than Santoshi, arguably the pioneer of the Bollywood 'item' song, did songs much better. With the possible exceptions of Damini, China Gate and Andaz Apna Apna, Santoshi's treatment of the mood, placement and quality of his soundtrack on film was mostly mediocre, haphazard and random. With APKGK, he gets this bit of the piece mostly right. The effort is not visible with the rest of the film, sadly. He tries his hand at a pure comedy after a rather long hiatus after 1994's cult favorite, Andaz Apna Apna and the final product is sadly middling at best.

Prem (Ranbir Kapoor) is a well meaning no-hoper, scourge of the rather picturesque town he lives in and thorn in his father's life, who hopes the boy will make something of himself one day. One fine day, Jenny (Katrina Kaif) walks into his life and our hero is smitten. What follows is a cute-ish love story and some funny comic set pieces. But Jenny is in love with Rahul (Upen Patel), who's father doesn't want the Hindu Rahul to get anywhere close to Christian Jenny due to political compulsions. But our hero, much like Ajay Devgan's brooding Vanraj from 'Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam', gallantly decides to sacrifice his own feelings to make sure Jenny and Rahul can be together, with Jenny finally coming around to Prem's affections in the end. So you get it. Nothing original in there. It was always going to be about the treatment. And Santoshi appears a bit out of water and fails to create anything more than old wine in a, well sadly, old bottle. You are rarely interested in Prem's life and Jenny's many sufferings appear trivial and contrived, much like the copious amounts of glycerin-tears she sheds. Neither is mood for this intended comedy particularly even, oscillating between comic book caper and serious love story. The bright spot in the piece seems to be the music, Pritam's light and peppy score assuring repeat value.

The film's lead pair carry on as best they can, with Kapoor earnestly trying to make something of his bumbling nice-guy character and Kaif, well, just being herself again, anglicized, wooden and incapable of more than 3 expressions. The rest of the cast are insignificant and mere caricatures, with the exception of Prem's parents Darshan Jariwala and Smita Jaykar, who do well in the scope they get. And as for Upen Patel, he really should have given up 'acting' and returned to England a long time ago.

In the end, a forgettable film, but for a few genuinely funny gags. See it if you must.

2/5

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Need a holiday?

2009-10-31T09:50:00.004+08:00

Here's an interesting article from Trent Hamm of the 'The Simple Dollar' on the importance of not making your work the most important thing in your life. There's a fair bit more to life than 9 to 5, and I whole-heartedly agree. So all you workaholics, go on, give this a go...

“One of the symptoms of approaching nervous breakdowns is the belief that one’s work is terribly important. If I were a medical man, I should prescribe a holiday to any patient who considered his work important.”
- Bertrand Russell, The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell

When I worked at my previous job, I always felt like the things I was doing were vitally important to the success of the project. In one way, this was good – it kept me focused on making sure that things wouldn’t fail. Yet it created several additional problems.

For one, I was often really stressed out. I felt hugely responsible for everything that went on, even for things that I couldn’t actually control. Eventually, I became quite proficient at solving the technical crises that others were responsible for, often because they were completely oblivious to the disasters.

At the same time, I became afraid to push myself to try new things. Since I felt so strongly responsible for everything, I became deeply afraid of change. I already felt the stress of managing all of the things that were already in place – the idea of changing things or adding new things stressed me even more. As a result, I would often subtly resist such changes.

On top of that, the birth of my children caused my priorities to change, adding further stress. A big part of my job involved traveling to meetings and conferences and other such things. After my children were born, the travel responsibilities gradually went from an enjoyable part of the job to a burden. Instead of going out on the town with colleagues, I’d spend the evening calling home to see what my kids were up to and would often feel as though I was missing them grow up.

The real message underlining all of this? I was so caught up in how important my job was that it was stressing me out, affecting my personal life, and keeping me from innovating and taking chances at work. That’s a terrible mix for success.

Looking back, a much more appropriate perspective would have been to realize what my role was – to develop data interfaces – and do that to the best of my ability, ignoring the other things that were going on. If the database went down… well, I shouldn’t have seen it as my responsibility. Instead, my responsibility should have been to simply push the envelope and find new and clever ways to get people the data they needed. It wasn’t “important” work – it was creative work, work that should have been purely fun.

What did I learn from this experience? The moment you begin to think of your job as “important,” you become more stressed and less innovative in your career. Your health and energy fail you due to the stress. Your job becomes less enjoyable because you’re focused on maintaining the status quo instead of doing the best job you can. In the end, you simply become less vital than you were before you began to see your job – and yourself – as “important.”

This is an issue I see popping up even now with my writing career. When I begin to view what I do as “important,” I begin to be less effective. I write less interesting pieces that essentially just reiterate core points. It becomes dull – and I can feel that just as much as you, the reader, can.

Instead, I try to remind myself that what I do really isn’t all that important at all. When I feel that way, I tend to write more from the heart, no matter the consequences. I often get attacked when I do things this way because I’ll express things that are different than what’s “expected” of me, but it’s more enjoyable.

Here’s the truth: your job is likely nowhere near as important as you think it is.Sometimes, employers will try to convince you that you’re more important than you actually are because it’ll scare you into being a good worker – but it will, at the same time, prevent you from being a great one. In the end, most managers – who also think of themselves as more important than they actually are – prefer a workplace full of good workers who are afraid to step outside the box than an office full of a mix of great workers and bad ones who are constantly trying to innovate. After all, that same sense of inflated importance guides them, too.

Here are three things I often do to keep my sense of importance at appropriately low levels.

First, I imagine worst case scenarios in terms of the greater world. For me, that would probably be a lack of ability to continue updating The Simple Dollar. What would happen to the greater world? For the most part, very little. The Simple Dollar often adds a little “positive” to people’s lives on a regular basis, but if it went away, their lives would continue. They might find another web site that provides a similar boost – or they might not. Either way, it’s not a major crisis for the world if the worst case scenario happens.

Most jobs, if you peel them back to their true impact on the world, have very little real impact. Yes, there are a few captains of industry and top political leaders who really can affect a lot of lives. Outside of them, though, the worst case scenario of most jobs has little impact.

Second, I imagine the positive impact of just not worrying about it. That type of scenario frees me to try new things. If I realize that the worst case scenario really isn’t that bad, it becomes a lot easier to imagine best case scenarios for taking pretty significant risks. What if I write articles that are seriously outside the box on The Simple Dollar? I might chase away a reader or two, sure. But I also have the potential to grab the imagination and attention of a lot of people by doing that.

Again, the same holds true for most jobs. When you consider the absolute worst case result of a certain choice, then compare that to the potential positive results of making that same choice, you’ll often find you’re better off just letting go of the status quo and trying new things. Completely re-do your filing system. Do a presentation that completely bucks the rules of what typically goes on in your workplace. Write some interesting utility code that helps everyone by making some common tasks faster.

Finally, I try things that are way outside the norm. Sometimes I’ll end up using these things that I create. Other times I won’t. In either case, I usually find something worthwhile.

What really makes this stand out, though, is that it’s fun. Trying something completely new and different adds an element of fun to my work that simply isn’t there if I’m overly careful and just follow the status quo. That sense of fun keeps my work in the area of things in my life that make me happy instead of things in my life that drain me.

In the end, my advice is simple: let go of the sense of importance you have about your work. It’ll be the best career move you’ll ever make.

One final note: if you have your financial ducks in a row, it’s even easier. Paying off your debts helps your career because it reduces the importance of your job. Your need for a salary is much less if you have your ducks in a row, which in turn opens the door to greater success because you’re no longer tied to such a sense of importance.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

All The Best

2009-10-25T21:03:00.002+08:00

Puerile at its worst and mildly chuckle-inducing at its best, Rohit Shetty's 'All the best', starts where his earlier films, 'Golmal' and 'Golmal Returns' left off. A mad cap tale of mistaken identities, this juvenile piece of cinema deserves a watch only by the particularly optimistic, for whom the realization of three irrecoverable hours will not seem criminal.

The story involves Veer (Fardeen Khan), a struggling musician, who needs extra pocket money from his stepbrother, Dharam (Sanjay Dutt), who lives abroad. Prem Chopra (Ajay 'I've changed my surname' Devgn), his best friend, married to Jhanvi (Bipasha Basu), schemes to inform Dharam that Veer is married, thereby making a case for an increased allowance. The incredibly wooden Mugdha Godse plays Veer's girlfriend, Vidya. Things meander along aimlessly for this motley crew until big brother Dharam decides to drop in and mistakes Jhanvi for Veer's wife. Much confusion ensues and the friends swap partners to keep the bluff going for as long as they can. In the mix is a mute don, played by a returning-to-form Johnny Lever, and a Pran-impersonating vagabond, played by Sanjay Mishra and a Malayali maid, Mary, played by the wonderfully talented Ashwini Kalsekar and a bizarre car race, something the director feels obligated to include in all his films.

It is actually this support cast that keeps the film from being a complete wash out and more screen time for these competent comic talents would have made for more pleasant viewing. The film's 'falling down/getting slapped' brand of slapstick comedy is repetitive and some times achingly unpleasant. Shetty tries hard, but fails to create a good comic experience for the viewer, even after ripping off an American play. His only redeeming effort comes in the form of the cinematic references to the classic 'mistaken identity' films of the 70s and 80s like 'Golmal' and 'Chupke Chupke'. Pity he doesn't learn from them.

2/5

Cheers,

Abhishek.

Blue 2 in the offing???!!???

2009-10-20T21:41:00.002+08:00

Be afraid, be very afraid... if this article from the Mumbai Mirror has even a shred of truth to it...

MUMBAI MIRROR 20 October 2009, 09:11am IST

If you think that the latest release Blue was made on a lavish budget, think again. A sequel to the film is already in the offing and is being planned on a much bigger scale.

Blue actor Sanjay Dutt informs that they will be starting with the sequel immediately. "It was a thrilling experience shooting for Blue in the Bahamas. Tony (director) is ready with the idea for Blue 2 and he has promised that there will be more sharks and action in the sequel," says Sanjay.

Sanjay says that shooting for Blue wasn't a cakewalk. "For me, Blue was an extremely difficult film to shoot. The same goes for the director Anthony D'Souza. Hats off to the producer who believed in the film and invested so much money in it. I don't know about others but I had a tough time while shooting as I was scared when I saw 50 sharks around me."

Blue 2 will be shot in Australia and will have one more key male actor other than Akshay Kumar, Sanjay and Zayed Khan. While Blue has several sharks, its sequel will have deadlier sharks such as Great Whites and Bull Sharks.

Why would Anthony D'souza do this? And who's funding him this time? Obviously he feels that Blue - Mark I isn't bad enough, so looks like he's going to try and top it. Clearly our man's cracked the cinematic success mantra. Film dangerous aquatic life and Akshay Kumar together and the crowds will flock to the theatre. The recession is well and truly over folks - when you can spend another Rs. 100 crore on yet another monstrosity, things must be looking up. Should be interesting.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Blue

2009-10-17T18:31:00.003+08:00

I'll make this a short one. There's not much to write about anyway. One wonders what happened to the $20 million that the producers spent on this one? Perhaps if the bulk of the cash was used to hire a good scriptwriter, instead of paying the actors' stratospheric salaries, things would have been a little different. This 'titanic' deserves to rest peacefully, as the film's poster screams, '250 feet under the sea'.

The story involves a betrayal between two friends, a lost treasure, an errant younger brother in trouble, family honor and the most boring treasure hunt ever filmed, underwater or on land. If you find the description a tad loose, you need not worry. You won't care anyway. What should have been a tight action adventure film, involving a suspense-filled treasure hunt, is in the end reduced to a few well choreographed action set pieces with some slick camera work. The underwater scenes deserve mention, and there ends the very short merit list of this film. Unless you're a devout Kylie Minogue fan. Even AR Rahman's music is tired and unimpressive. The acting is bad, the dialogue worse and the drama quotient completely undermined by bad writing. Nothing quite works for director Anthony D'souza and this ship sinks pretty fast. Perhaps the saving grace is its tight sub 2-hour running time.

Avoid this one, unless your doctor has prescribed an antidote for excess celebration this Diwali.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Wake up Sid

2009-10-04T12:24:00.006+08:00

The first commandment of 'coming of age' films is well known to be - 'Thou shalt always be compared to 'Dil Chahta Hai''. This is no DCH. While Ayan Mukerji's directorial debut bears a certain resemblance to the Farhan Akhtar classic, both in terms of look and certain sub plots movements, the film on the whole is a fresh, simple and sugary take on the inner battles of today's youth.

Sid (Ranbir Kapoor) is a going-nowhere-and-loving-it rich kid, showing no signs of trying to make anything of himself, much to the chagrin of his parents, who want him to join the family business. Sid, having freshly failed his graduation exams, rebels and leaves home, only to crash with his new friend, the out-of-towner, independent-new-girl-about-town, Aisha (Konkona Sen) who's out to make it in the big bad city of Bombay, oops...Mumbai, and there starts both a heartwarming coming of age tale as well as a smartly told love story.

The film, however has its set of niggles. Sid's story isn't as compelling as it should have been. He has no particular emotional anchor to hook you with, not his fight with his best friend, not his failing his exams, not his fights with his parents. We just hope and wait for things to get really bad for Sid, so his redemption can seem all the more heroic and satisfying, but nothing of the sort ever happens, and once we realise that the film is produced by the folks at Dharma Productions, it seems to make sense. Only the track with Sid's reconciliation with his mother packs any sort of emotional punch. Downplay and subtlety is welcome, but Mukerji clearly overdoes it. The pacing of the film is also a tad sluggish, the first hour of the film taking too long to set up the story.

A word on the acting - this is entirely Ranbir Kapoor's film. His consistent and believable portrayal of Sid is a great turn. He single handedly makes this film more watchable than it should have been. Konkona does a variation of her roles in Metro and Luck By Chance and if she wasn't such a fabulous actress, she would be starting to really get on the nerves of viewers with her lack of range in commercial cinema. The rest of the cast are pitched perfectly and are eminently every-day, with the exception of Rahul Khanna, who does yet another meaningless bit part. He seems to be making a career out of doing the handsome boss/other man cameo. Yawn!

Shankar Ehsan Loy's music is fine, suitably young and hip, but none of their tunes hit the peak that guest music director Amit Trivedi reaches with the beautiful 'Iktaara', which immeasurably enhances the film, both aurally and mood wise.

Its a well told, young and simple little story of coming to terms with ones own little problems, and overcoming ones own trials and tribulations, however trivial they may be. Hidden in there somewhere, is a slick, neat little love story and and some great music.

3/5

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Curfewed Night by Basharat Peer: Book review

2009-09-12T23:11:00.005+08:00

There is something distinct and inherently powerful about the concept of identity, isn't there? Something that can cause a whole generation to sacrifice its future in its name? Basharat Peer's poignant 'Curfewed Night' is as much a chronicle of Kashmir's conflicted past and uncertain future as it is a love song to the paradise valley of his childhood. The book's relentless and breathless narrative is perhaps deliberate, maybe an attempt to drive home the urgency of the situation. After all, by most estimates, more than a hundred thousand lives have been lost since the inception of the conflict in the late 80s. Tragedy is...we are no more closer to a peaceful solution than we were at any point in the past.

Peer recounts his relatively peaceful childhood in the early 80s in the idyllic northern state. Then, with the peoples' growing discontent with Indian governance, arrived the militant freedom fighter with his Kalashnikov and things were never the same since. A vicious circle of violence was unleashed in the state, with the youth of the time idolising the freedom fighters. Peer himself makes no bones about the fact that he wanted to pick up the gun in the name of freedom and identity. His father's wisdom prevailed and Peer left the state to pursue his education. Much of the book's content is a result of conversations with people he returns to after the completion of his studies. These stories, all heart wrenching and tearful, have similar themes, about missing sons and fathers, massacred relatives, constant excesses of the Security forces, the loss of innocence and a pitfalls of being caught in the cross-fire, when all these people had wanted in the first place was to be left alone, wanting to be free to live in the way they were accustomed to. A particular observation of the author that I remember from the latter part of the book is about kids in Kashmir playing their own version of 'chor-police', called 'militant-army', with discarded weapons that the children found lying around.

If you are looking for objective analysis and intricate political dissection of the Kashmir issue, with possible solutions, this isn't the book for you. This is a deeply moving and personal tale of a home that no longer exists, of lives unnecessarily lost, of a colossal ongoing tragedy. This is clearly a human document, a book meant to be a Kashmiri voice, saying 'enough!'

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Stranger to history by Aatish Taseer : Book review

2009-08-19T21:17:00.009+08:00

Being born to an Indian mother and a Pakistani father, puts ex-Time magazine journo and first time author, Aatish Taseer in a unique situation. As Indians or Pakistanis, one normally assumes one clear identity, one culture and one kind of relatedness. Aatish, unenviably, needs to straddle two very different worlds and cultures, which were, ironically, the same at one point in history. Truly, midnight's chosen son.

When the author published an article on British Muslim, Hassan Butt, the suspected 7/7 bomber, his philosophy of a 'literal Islam' and his efforts to recruit other young Muslims to fight in Afghanistan, he received an angry letter from his father in Pakistan, politician and businessman Salmaan Taseer, about how he had failed to understand the 'the ethos of Islam and Pakistan'. Not wanting to meet his father without an understanding of 'being Muslim' and the current moods in the Islamic world, he sets out travelling in search of a grounding, right from fiercely secular Turkey through to Syria, Oman, Iran and Yemen, with the final port of call being his father's Pakistan. The deeper and more personal question being, how his father, a non-practising Muslim could feel so strongly about his article, without actually being a 'believer' in the conventional sense. The question I kept asking myself," Taseer writes, "was how my father, a professed disbeliever in Islam's founding tenets, was even a Muslim. What made him Muslim despite his lack of faith?"

The book is clearly divided into two parts, which run parallel to each other, merging at the end. One part is the travelogue through 'Islamic lands' as the larger title of the book suggests, and the second is the author's telling of his estranged relationship with his father. And it is here that Taseer's writing really shines through. Elegant and mature, his prose allows us an embarrassingly front-row view of a poignant tale of a home broken by the redrawing of a map. While father and son never do make their peace, there is hope that they at least understand each others' motivations and purposes.

The journey itself is unremarkable and provides no deeper insight into already existing notions or knowledge of the countries he visits. There is the secular Turkey, where a more traditional and literal expression of Islam is almost abhorred . Then comes Syria, the current hot bed of radical Islamic thought, where interestingly he witnesses the burning of the Danish assembly on the Prophet-cartoon issue. He then travels to Iran, where trivialities of the Holy Book and its arbitrary interpretations are used to police the State into an almost schizophrenic straight-jacket. His journey remains a personal one, and while we wait for something fantastic to happen, our hopes built up in the initial pages, nothing really does. We will him on to meet some fascinating characters, but sadly, all we have to make do with is a bunch of Iranian Hare-Krishnas, a telling result of the hardline Islamic stance of the State and its corrupt and powerful moral police.

Things tend to get a bit of a move-on in Pakistan, and Taseer is back to what he writes best about, the subcontinent and the pain of partition. He makes an interesting observation in Pakistan - as the nations get younger, he says, they drift more and more apart, as the younger generation shares none of the hybridity that the older generation had about them. This was an interesting takeaway, as I would have thought that the baggage of old would have stopped weighing down the populations of today. Taseer gets a feeling that this is not the case with the youths of both countries charting entirely different paths, making them even more difficult to find common ground. It is in Pakistan where we meet another interesting character, the wealthy and feudal mango exporter, whose life is the telling of another kind of dichotomy in Pakistan.

Overall, a fine first book, heartfelt and poignant. It might not go down well with his father nor indeed in the Islamic world as well, but every attempt is made to be genuinely objective and his effort is praiseworthy. It challenges notions of identity, belonging and cultural roots. I would be very keen to see him write about India as well, in all its white, black and grey. I hear he's working on it.

In the meanwhile, 'Stranger to history' will do just fine.

Cheers!

Abhishek.