It's a crazy world out there...let's hope our prayers are in good hands tonight...

Roxette sang this years ago, but somehow this sprang out at me today, while I was thinking about how to start the blog for the new year...so I decided to use a couple of lines to headline this new year post.

Phew! What a 2008 its been!

Here's wishing you all a very happy, peaceful and prosperous 2009 ahead...maybe there will be light at the end of the tunnel.

Just a few lines to kick off the new year on a bright and positive note, regardless of all the mess around you.

From Robin Sharma's blog -
"You just received a giant gift: a fresh, virgin new year - utterly open to it being made into anything you choose it to become. Forget the doomsayers. Block out the fear-mongers. Shout down those voices of mediocrity encouraging you to play small with your days amidst the dramatic changes in our world. This is a time to dream, to shine - to lead. It's a great time to be alive - regardless of how bad your life might appear (things always get better don't they?).
You just got 12 fresh months (I needed to repeat that because it's such an inspiring thought to me). Some amongst us don't have that time. You do. You are blessed.
So what will you do with 2009? Will you spend it wisely - reaching for excellence and outright greatness, regardless of where you work and who you are? Will this year be the year you leave behind all your victim stories about why you can't be in world-class health and lead in your field at work and love your family like there's no tomorrow? Will this year be the year you have the courage to catch a glimpse of how extraordinary you are and then assume the personal responsibility to let that talent see the light of day? And will this new year be the 12 months that you give back to the world, by lifting others up and by being honest, ethical and downright good?
Just wondering. Because the clock is ticking. And this very moment is a fine time to begin."

Cheers!
Abhishek.

Another unnecessary post on another unnecessary attack

Well, I don't really need to write anything about 26/11. Much of what we are all feeling as a nation has already been captured by the media, various columnists, conscious citizens et all. I am yet again saddened, shocked and numbed by the events that unfolded over those three fateful days. But not so much at the loss of life and the general destruction. No sir. Let me not kid myself. As someone from this violent generation of extremism and religious fundamentalism (and that includes all religions), I am more than used to seeing gory pictures of death and violence on sensationalist national television and reading more of the same in the headlines of news hungry newspapers. No...this is not what I am really upset about. What got my goat was the fact it takes us an attack on 2 five star hotels, 6o hours of soap operatic carnage and 180 deaths to get us to react the way we did. If there would have been a routine blast (routine blast??!?) in say, a remote part of a tier 2 town, then all we would have done is shake our heads, sigh and change channels with a wise ass comment about how that's all we see on television these days. Now that the attacks have been on a scale and range that have shaken us, we are reacting differently and with purpose (hopefully). Things hurt when they hit closer to home I guess...the middle class/upper middle class is used to visiting the places that were hit in Mumbai and hence the fear and helplessness. India has been hit by more than a thousand terrorist attacks since 2004, killing thousands of people, but such a reaction was not deemed worthy on any of the earlier occasions. What happened then? Were those lives not as important as the ones lost in the 26/11 carnage? Apparently not.
As a nation we need to reflect on how insensitive we have become and how a certain insularity has crept in...It can therefore almost be inferred that there is no value accorded to human life in this country. Oh sorry, its worse than that...the higher up you are in the human food chain, the more value your life has. We are happy to shut up and turn a blind eye and even continue happily with the IPL when a blasts kills innocents in Jaipur, but will make a hue and cry when an iconic hotel is turned into a battle zone and the people who are killed this time are rich and famous. I'd rather we not care about anybody at all... at least its fair.
I weep not for the many who died or who were injured, I weep for their fellow countrymen who have forgotten how to feel.

Cheers,
Abhishek.

And one last thing, lads, before I leave...

My favourite Sourav moment isn't his shirt waving at Lord's, his magnificent century on Test debut or even his triumphant Australia tour in 2003-04. It is in fact an advertisement he did while he was out of the Indian Team, in support of Rahul Dravid's World Cup team. It went like this, "Hi, My name is Sourav Ganguly. I hope you haven't forgotten me. Whatever happened, why it happened I don’t know. I am practicing hard to come back into the team.Who knows I might get another chance to swirl my shirt in the air! In the field or outside the field, I wont keep quiet. For every match of India I am going to cheer them like this and so should you… my team will feel good.You will listen to your ‘Dada’ right?” For me that summed up Ganguly. It takes immense courage to acknowledge that you've been been dropped and might never make it back to the team. It takes even more courage parade naked emotions on national TV. But emotions have been Ganguly's forte. As a player and a captain, he always wore his heart on his sleeve. Not many warmed up the man when he broke into the national side after his brilliant debut at Lord's in 1996. He had his own way, was an aristocrat and didn't care much for authority. These qualities, in the sycophancy -driven BCCI setup are almost sure to finish off your career, but the man managed to come out playing over a 100 tests and 300 ODIs. Oh, and he turned out to be the country's most successful captain as well.

Sourav has had many highlights throughout his illustrious career. But I saw him come into his own during the captaincy phase. Under him, India weren't the same team of old...happy to go quietly into the night. There was a steely resolve to fight, to believe, to give back as good as given. Building a new team and throwing his weight behind youngsters like Sehwag, Harbhajan, Yuvraj and Kaif, he instilled an entirely new character into a team of talented but generally directionless youngsters. The BCCI can thank him for the the team they see now. You could always count on him to put up a fight, against the system, against the defeatist baggage of earlier Indian teams and even against the mighty and unflappable Australians. Steven Waugh will always remember him as the man who spoilt his party. Love him or hate him, but you couldn't ignore Boycott's Prince of Kolkata. He will be remembered with much more respect than he has been accorded of late, sure to be classed among India's best captains ever along with Tiger Pataudi and Ravi Shastri. When all seemed lost there was always Sourav and his team who gave us something something to cheer about. The legendary scraps with the Aussies, the Natwest trophy finals, the one man show at the Sahara Cup in Canada and the dream run in the World Cup in South Africa. India was back on the cricketing map and a force to contend with. No longer the tigers at home and the mice abroad. All this and a team for the future.

Indian cricket and I will miss the left handed captain courageous, Kolkata's favourite son, and the once 'God of the offside'. So long, Sourav. And thanks for the memories.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Book Review: The White Tiger

Much hyped, Aravind Adiga’s debut novel, The White Tiger was something I was waiting to read for a while now. While the book's recent short listing for the Man Booker prize came as a bit of a surprise to me, it is indeed engaging and insightful in many respects.
The book tells the tale of the rags to riches story of Balram Halwai, the son of a rickshaw puller from a remote village in India (which Adiga christen’s ‘The Darkness’) and his subsequent meteorical rise to dot com millionaire. Halwai’s path to riches is far from clean. There are compromises and unscrupulous deals along the way, and Halwai does not even mind spilling a little blood to get to where he wants to be. The book raises many issues… the inequality of incomes and lifestyles, religious tensions, the corruption in the system and the fact that success in today’s India can never be achieved with hard work and diligence alone. Adiga is clearly angry, and Halwai, narrating his story in letter format to China’s premier (no less!) becomes his mouthpiece. Life in rural India is described in all its blood, deprivation and stench. The anger is even more evident in Halwai’s narration of his ex-employers’ family’s treatment of him and other servants in the big bad city of Delhi. The chasm between rich and poor in India is highlighted as it should be. The funny thing is, even as you start to realize and know that Halwai is far from being the clean poster boy of small town success stories, and is in fact willing to go to any length to achieve his goals, you somehow still root for him. And that is the beauty of Adiga’s writing. It’s the angry young man/ anti-hero circa 2008. The narrative also alludes to popular real life issues that have occurred in India over the last few years, such as the BMW hit and run case, the many bribery cases in politics etc.
The book raises many uncomfortable questions about modern India, and does so unflinchingly, relentlessly and unapologetically.
I’ll be watching out for the follow-up.

Cheers,

Abhishek.

Aamir

Raj Kumar Gupta's first effort as director is commendable. Aamir, though repetitive in both message and plot device, leaves an impact which few films this year have had. A clear example of how the end result is more than the sum of its parts.

Aamir tells the tale of muslim doctor, who returns to India, after years in the UK, only to find his family kidnapped by muslim fundamentalists who wish to use him for their nefarious designs on the larger populace. This leads the helpless doctor on to a race against time, running from pillar to post trying to do their bidding. Mumbai here is showcased in all its grit, grime and dirty underbelly. And what an effect it has on the senses! You feel Aamir's pain and frustration at every step along the way. At the outset, when he has to get somewhere in quick time and he runs into a traffic jam, you just can't help but smile wryly at the daily realities of urban life. Along the way, he sees a Mumbai faced by millions of common people, a Mumbai which is harsh and brutal, far removed from his world. The film could have done with more such examples of this brutality, but chooses not to for some reason, and loses out on impact in the process. It tends to focus more on the protagonist's pain and his minute by minute nightmare instead.

Towards the end, he is faced with the decision of his life, whether to stay true to his heart, or selfishly save his family, at the cost of hundreds of lives. He finally finds his peace and smiles for the first time in the film, right in the last scene of the film.

The film unfolds quickly and but slows down in the second half of the proceedings and that is a cause of complaint. A tighter lead up to the finish could have served the film better. Also, the conversations between the kidnapper and Aamir, about being muslim in today's India, are a bit tedious and has been done to death in earlier films.

But whatever said and done, the film keeps you engrossed and you feel for the protagonist every step of the way. The direction is very good and is setting augments proceeds considerably. Cinematography is simply quite stunning. The film uses people on the street quite brilliantly and city comes alive through these folks. Rajeev Khandelwal does a commendable job in his first outing and film rests on his able shoulders throughout its 2 hour duration.

A word on the music. Amit Trivedi's score is simply one of the best soundtracks of the year. Each song grips you sonically, and helps the visual on the screen become a emotional experience. Watch out for the great hooks on 'Chakkar ghumiyo', 'Ek Lau' and 'Haara'. But save up for the gem of a tune, 'Ha Raham karna Aye Khuda'. 2 thumbs up! Great stuff!

Highly recommended.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Trivia - Cinema's funny circles

Two of my (and most peoples, for that matter) favourite Utpal Dutt Films are Hrishikesh Mukherjee's 'Golmal' and Ray's 'Agantuk' (The Stranger).
The first film really put Dutt on the comedy map in a big way and remained his most memorable commercial performance till date. The latter is certainly his last great one. Now sample this -

1979 - Golmal
(Interview scene- loosely edited and translated in English)
Dutt - What can you tell me about Pele?
Palekar - He was a great man, sir! His book 'The per capita income of the backward tribes of Maharashtra is fantastic!
Dutt - Who are you talking about?
Palekar - Prof. Rele, the famous economist of course!
Dutt - No! No! I am talking about Pele, the Black Pearl! The famous football player from Brazil! Don't you know?
Palekar - Apologies sir. My knowledge of football is limited. Father used to say that youth was for hard work, studies and making someone of yourself. One could indulge in life's hobbies after settling down.

1991 - Agantuk(The Stranger)
(Interview scene over tea- loosely edited and translated in English)
Ghosh - you say you have returned to India after 35 years. Where are you returning from?
Dutt - Brazil
Ghosh - Ah! Brazil! What are you saying?
Dutt - Why?
Ghosh - Football, of course! Pele!
Dutt - Who?
Ghosh - Black Pearl Pele, the famous football player! He would score bicycle kick goals!
Dutt - Sorry sir. My knowledge of football is strictly limited to East Bengal and Mohun Bagan!

Cheers!
Abhishek.

Songs of a lifetime - 9

"Amar Janla" (My window)

A song in Bengali, by Anjan Dutta. It talks of 'The windows of our minds'. We all have our windows through which we look at the world. He urges us to stop looking at the world through windows of caste, creed and religion. Keeping our minds open to everything and everyone serves us much better in today's globalised world, where hate and mistrust are common enemies. Boundaries may well exist on maps, but Dutta urges us not to replicate them in our minds, in our outlook, in our sensibilites. A simple acoustic number, it sources its setting and inspiration firmly from middle class, urban Kolkata, but is decidedly universal in message.

"Amar janla diye,
Amar janla diye ektu khani akash dekha jai
Ektu borsha ektu grissho ektu khani sheet
Shei ektu khani choukho chobi akre dhore rakhi
Amar janla diye amar prithibi

Shei prithibi te bikeler rong hemonte holud
Shei prithibi te pasher barir kanna shona jai
Prithibita boroi choto amar janalai
Amar janla diye amar prithibi.

Shei prithibi tei bachbo bolei juddho kori roj
Ektu khani bachar jonno hajar aposh
Shei prithibir naam Kolkata ki Bharot jani na
Tumi tomar prithibir naam ta jano ki?

Tumi bolbe amar,
Tumi bolbo amar Beniyapukur tomar Behala
Tumi gondi kete dekhiye debe poshchim bangla
Hoito Kerela'r akash ar ektu beshi neel
Tobu sheta'o ki noi amar prithibi?

Amar janla diye jaina dekha Islamabaad
Shudhu dekhi roj ami amar pasher barir chaad
Ekta holde shari shukochche aaj moja'r rong ta neel
Aaj prithibi ta boroi rongin

Keu janla khule Alabamae bangla gan gai
Keu porche Koran boshe tar Japani janlai
Tumi hisheb kore bolte paro Paris er shomoy
Kintu kar janlai ke ki dekhe hisheb kora jai ki bolo

Moner janla ache,
Moner janla diye tumi beriye porte paro
Mexico te boshe bajano jai guitar
Kothai tumi tanbe bolo desher shimarekha
Amar janla diye gota prithibi.

Tai janla amar mane na aaj dhormer bibhedh
Janla jatiyotabaad er porowa kore na
Janla amar purb na poshchim er dike khola
Janla shey to nijei jane na

Janla amar shokal belai shonai bhoirobi
Aar shondhe belai shonai(shudhu) Johny Coltrane
Gaan er shure reshareshi deshadeshi nei
Amar gaan er janla gota prithibi."

PS - Heres a link to the song being performed by Kolkata lad Ankan Basu on Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ErKuvAFaRss

Cheers,
Abhishek.

Civilised Man

Found this in an old rotten notebook in my Calcutta home during my visit there last year. Written in the year 2000, it was intended as a dig at corporate life in general... I had just joined work and didn't really enjoy the culture there. There could also have been something specific that had happened, but its too far back to remember...Originally written as a song, it found no takers when I showed it around to some of the bands which performed at a city hotel...so it ended up as poem. So there... Anyone interested in picking it up? I'll halve my royalties rate, I swear...:-)

Morning comes and so do I,
Dressed in a three piece, hat and tie,
Looking better than anybody else can,
Because me, I am a civilised man.

At work, I set fires all around,
Poison ears till I get people to frown,
Can't let them promote him above the ceiling fan,
Because me, I am a civilised man.

United we stand, unbound we crack,
You squeal on me and I'll stab you in the back,
Dollars in the bank fuels this caravan,
Because me, I am a civilised man.

I wear the mask so you won't see,
The other thing that lives inside of me,
Deception seems to be my only plan,
Because me, I am a civilised man.


Cheers!
Abhishek.

Langkawi - Feb'08

Langkawi - A fine getaway. Not as commercial as some of the other beach towns. A great place to chill out in for a few days away from the hustle-bustle. Highly recommended! A few pics.





Cheers!
Abhishek.

New Sights, New Soul? - Counterpoint

Well, yeah... 2 sides to a coin and all that. Did get a few responses to the last post and it set off another train of thought. The fact that the last post was written with more than just a touch (in fact, with generous dollops!) of sentimentality cannot be denied. It was also written from a...well...an NRI perspective (there, I said it) is also tue. The counterpoint being, that those who live outside the city or country love to return to familiar territory. Missing the 'good old days' is just a rant these days and should not go into being fodder for an anti-development campaign. True, there will be shedding of some of the old characterisitics of a place, as it evolves into something new and different, and that is but natural. From some of the angry responses I got, I weed out a few arguements. One said, NRIs love to come back to the place they once left behind... if they see change, they can't take it and start writing silly pieces on their blogs in protest of the changing 'soul' of the city and all. Another was that its about time that Calcutta took off in the right direction (the current development drive) after decades of neglect and disrepair, and there is nothing to be ashamed or apologetic about it. If people have the money to go to Bangkok instead of going to the Book fair, then its their right to do so and we cannot be in a position to comment. How many people 20 years ago could afford to do so? So now if there is properity, why rail against it, under the garb of sentimentality? There is merit to these arguments... we go ga-ga over the malls in London or Singapore, but claim that all the new malls in Calcutta are a scourge for the city's infrastructure and youth. The young generation will be the I-pod and PS3 generation, just like we were the Amar Chitra Katha and the gali-cricket one. So what? Why the double standards?
The drift of things is thus.. poeple living away from the action tend to have a city caught in time in their heads and refuse to let go. This leads to an altogether irrational view of things, where one set of rules seem alright in the country of residence (mainly developed countries), and different set of rules tend to apply to the land they left behind. Nostalgia can never be reason enough. In my defence, the post was intended as a call to keep alive the cultural soul of a city caught head first in the battle between old and new. Nothing more. But still, the counterpoint does beg attention. There are sacrifices to be made to gain something. All I ask... is the soul too big a price to pay?

Below is reproduced a witty piece from the Times of India, written by C Rajaghatta. It bears some relevance to the topic under discussion.

"It’s all over for the NRIs, folks; long live the RNIs! If you are not familiar with the latter acronym, better get up to speed, because it could apply to you. It stands for Resident Non-Indians, a term manufactured by the now deposed and embittered NRIs to describe those they say are residents of India only in name, but who don’t show the slightest sign of being Indian — which to nostalgia-stricken NRIs means listening to Mohd Rafi and Lata Mangeshkar of circa 1970 while driving to work on the Beltway; not the Bollywood Rap the RNI types are soaking up while stuck in traffic jams in India.
The tidings about the demise of the NRI cachet and the rise of the RNI legend was brought recently to America, the largest hangout for NRIs, by a crestfallen member of the long-hyped tribe. He had returned from India rather shell-shocked. It’s not just that the dollar had sunk below Rs 40 and touts at Taj Mahal were using greenbacks to blow their kids’ noses, he sniffed; it was the way he was treated at home. When he sat down for breakfast expecting to be served pohua and idli, he was fed Post’s Banana Nut Crunch. Olive oil had replaced asli ghee in the making of parathas. When they went out to dinner — Tex-Mex, no less — friends whipped out their wallets faster than Clint Eastwood drew his six-shooter in For a Few Dollars More, and didn’t allow him to pay. His Amex card returned to the US unmolested.
There’s just no respect anymore for NRIs, he moaned. What happened to the good old days when nephews and nieces begged him for Levi’s and Nikes, for Chanel No 1 and Poison? Why, as recently as a couple of years ago, snotty little brats were pleading with him for playstations and iPods. But now all these were available in India, as were the latest laptops and cellphones. Having gone from Non-Returning Indian to a Non-Resident Indian, he had now been demoted to Not Required Indian.
So, here’s the scoop. Apparently, our bharat mahaan is rolling in so much lolly, and such is the attention being lavished on it by the world, that NRIs are being told to take their depreciating dollar and dafa ho jao. Dirhams and euros are still okay, but the dollar is definitely in the doghouse. Heck, even the Taj — the hotel, not the monument — is reportedly telling folks they would rather be paid in pesos. People, it’s Pox Americana time, and the American NRI is bearing the brunt. As a long-suffering itinerant who straddles the world of NRIs, RNIs, IRNs etc, i can attest to the hardship the poor NRI is going through with my $0.02 of insight, the equivalent naya paisa being too unaffordable. It’s a terrible chore these days to shop in the US for the family in India. For one, there is hardly anything that is ‘Made in USA’; and what is available is already outdated in India. The horrible moment of truth laughed me in the face when i handed out a nice T-shirt i had bought for a brat, only to be thanked with "Chee! It’s Made-in-Bangladesh." The sneakers, it turned out, were made in Thailand, and the baseball cap in Vietnam. The nadir came when the gang espied my cellphone, a model that was apparently discarded in India in the 20th century.
So, where does that leave the NRI? Word is that they are pressing for a change in nomenclature. They’d now like to be known as INRs — Indian Non-Residents."

Cheers!
Abhishek.

New sights, new soul?

Well, the annual trip to Calcutta is done and dusted. And while any trip home is always too short, this one was a bit different. Till last year, I still could evidence the romanticism of the city of old. Its values, its middle-class vibe and laid back soul was easy to seek out and see. However, this time around, the difference was palpable. I'll tell you what I mean in a minute. The fact that I was on a schedule from hell didn't help either. Hardly had any time to wander the narrow 'para' streets to really feel at home...
Well, the city seemed to be on the move. No doubts about that at all. There is new found sense of purpose. Clean things up, get rich, development and infrastructure seem to be the new buzz words. I hardly saw a road or a lane where some establishment, luxury condominium, or shopping mall isn't coming up. This of course is stressing the limited infrastructure immensely. However that's something that is a natural outcome of exponential growth. Buying a house was such a big deal a while ago. Today, most are able to purchase a flat with relative ease. I saw smiling faces from billboards saying how easy it was to purchase a property. Loans from banks, easy installments, all the modern day comforts and luxury, superb location etc. A boom seemed to be underway. This was already happening for the last couple of years, but it was only now that I saw the effects of this new found prosperity. All the young people go about from one pub to another, talking excitedly on the latest cell phone, Mp3 players stuck into their ears. All everyone talks about is buying property, some gloating over how they made a killing by buying a flat at a prime location a year ago, purchasing the hottest labels of clothing from the millions of new malls that are coming up in every nook and corner. A wholly new attitude was on display and money and prosperity seem to be the new ideals. New restaurants, glitzy streets and a buzzing nightlife all give evidence of this new growth story.
While I am happy for the city and this should come as a welcome change to Calcutta, I somehow felt a few pangs of loss. Its the same feeling you get when you realise your best friend, who you've just met after a longish gap, has changed somehow and doesn't value your friendship as much anymore. You're happy at your friend's new found wealth, but you want to share the same good times as you did before...without the cellphone ringing all the time, without having to go shopping with him to Guess, Mango, Spencer's and M&S. Just you and him, together, by the riverside on a winter afternoon, sipping a hot cup of chai, discussing something more than which new cellphone or car to buy. I want to be able to walk through the city lanes, see children play sports on the streets, instead of being glued to their Play Stations. I want to see the fast disappearing 'para club' still thriving. I wish to see people take a break from their running about and cell phones and actually take interest in other people. I want to see the new buildings glitter and glow in all their neon glory, but I still want to see a family taking the children out to the book fair, instead of a hurried 2 night 3 day trip to Bangkok. I want to see children at the various community libraries, not at video game parlours and malls.
Perhaps this incident will explain what I mean, best. On the 24th of December, Xmas eve, I was at the Saturday Club with the wife and some cousins. The atmosphere was jovial and upbeat with live music and dancers from some troupe, swinging to all the latest dance floor hits. When the clock struck 12, I expected at least one Xmas carol if not anything else. But nothing of the sort happened. Instead Daler Mehendi's 'Hayo rabba' blared through the speakers, sung by the Anglo-Indian singer, hired for the night (tell me about the IRONY there..lol). No one really stopped to say Merry Xmas or the like. On top of that, there were pesky waiters who demanded tips at any given opportunity. I looked around to see just one Xmas tree, almost covered by huge sponsor hoardings and adverts from alcohol companies. This was an excuse to party, not a Christmas celebration. The only cheer and good spirit was from the Scotch whisky which flowed non stop. As we left the club, feeling let down, we noticed a man in a torn suit outside the gate, paying the saxophone. 'Jingle bells, Jingle bells...'. All we could do was smile at each other and put a brand new Rs. 50 note into his hat which lay in front of him. There were hardly any people on the road (which is unheard of in Calcutta during Xmas) and he seemed to be the only thing that night that reminded us of the festive Christmas spirit. A poor, cold and drunk saxophone player. This was what was left of the old Calcutta. This from a city which had such a large Anglo Indian and Christian community and where Xmas was perhaps the second festival of the city after the Durga Puja. No more plum cakes from Nahoum's for you son, its going to be disco music and pub hopping this time. Father Xmas? Haha, still living in the made up dreamworld huh? Wake up and smell the money. Now he visits only those who have nothing better to do. The 'have nots' or the 'out' crowd. I guess definitions of good cheer and festive spirit have changed. Sigh.
The government may have a role to play here. It must look to keep the cultural scene alive and kicking. Is one connection that cannot be lost. Reinvention of the city's past and the rehabilitation of the quickly degenerating cultural edifices and hubs would help immensely. Going to see the gorgeous, but largely unknown, 'Marble Palace' has to be seen as 'fashionable' again. Currently all I saw was hoards of young people, rushing from one place to another, looking to quickly improve their lot and get rich. Calcutta of old, at least in terms of values, is perhaps getting left behind in this frenzied rush. I would hate see this happen. I'm sure all Calcuttans would. I pride the city's soul more than anything else. I like the body beautiful, but I'm afraid Faust might have just made his deal again.

PS - All was perhaps not lost. I did get the opportunity to see Ravi Shankar and his daughter Anoushka perform at the Calcutta Club. It was a great evening to cherish and remember, with the ailing maestro improvising brilliantly through the various raagas. He had the crowd enthralled all throughout his 2 hour performance. I'm glad I went. Something to tell the grandchildren about.

Cheers!
Abhishek.

Finale 2007

Another year goes past. First, apologies for being hopelessly irregular. New year resolution for sure. Wait, thats what I said last year...Hmm...more action less talk...thats what the resolution should be. Have heard that quite a bit this year... and just as well, because if its not love then its the bomb, the bomb, the bomb, the bomb, the bomb, the bomb, the bomb that will bring us together. Whats what Morrissey says anyway. Nope, will work on that. What else, more enthusiasm for life maybe? Go out, duniya dekho...kya bekar kamre mein baitha rahta hai...hmm..point taken. Done, resoultion no. 2. Need to get more health conscious as well...Ok no need to push it. Enough already. Not good with resolutions at all. But lets see this time...

The year was ok...2 months in the UK, property purchase, some half decent films, 1st wedding anniversary, Dada - 239. Well, can't ask for much more. Lol.. really need to start demanding more from life.

Well, here's wishing you all a merry Xmas and a Happy 2008!

Off to Calcutta tomorrow... ciao.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Got to be Aishwarya

Went for a play after absolute ages. Wasn't really your connoisseur's delight, this Bharat Dhabolkar production. I have seen a couple of his earlier plays, both being bawdy pieces, typical sex comedies. Thankfully, he seems to have matured as a playwright. 'Got to be Aishwarya' deals with father-daughter bonding. Tom Alter plays Neil Kapoor, a Bollywood screenwriter who meets his long lost daughter from his first marriage, Reem (Ananya Dutt), who ironically has come to Mumbai to make it in the movie business. Their first meeting is awkward to say the least, but then over time how the father changes from a care free, cynical, and dry human being to a fretting, worried and doting dad, forms the crux of the proceedings. He is helped in this endeavour by his girlfriend and single mom, Anuradha (the lovely and supremely talented Mona Ambegaonkar, of 'Ambar Dhara' fame). They end up forming a nice little family unit of their own by the end of the play and its a happy story.

The play in itself is enjoyable on the whole, though cliched in parts. Issues like the man's fear of commitment, single motherhood, Bollywood double standards, and struggling in the movie industry are discussed. The set is pretty sparse and the proceedings take place in the protagonist, Neil Kapoor's flat.

Performance wise, Ambegaokar steals the show with her natural performance as the single mother in a carefree relationship with the screenwriter. She is a pleasure to watch in the supporting role that she essays. Her simultaneous insecurity (at suddenly being the second most important woman in Neil's life after the appearance of his daughter), and heartfelt love and sympathy for Neil is phenomenally well nuanced. Alter is good as well, but is visibly stretched during the the emotional scenes of the play. Ananya Dutt is passable and seems to wilt under the most demanding role on display, that of a daughter in search of her father who left twenty years ago. Someone should tell her that shaking her head vigorously while delivering her lines is not necessarily good acting... Anyways, a decent watch. A light, sprightly piece for the entire family.

2.5/5

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Chak De India

Shimit Amin's film has to be one of the best sports films to come of India, though really, that's not saying much as sports films are generally neglected in this part of the world. However, I was keen to see how this product from the US returned director of 'Ab Tak Chappan' would turn out, and I must say I was quite satisfied. Set in the backrooms of the Indian Women's Hockey world, the film is a cliched story about a disgraced India ex-captain, who returns from exile to lead a ragtag, fractional team of no-hopers to the title of the World Championships. Its the treatment, however that should come in for high praise. Fast paced sports action, dollops of emotional drama and a fresh bunch of actors/hockey players make this film enjoyable. The move to enlist the services of hockey players rather than actors (barring a few exceptions), seems to have been an inspired one as it makes the story entirely believable. Most of the stereotypes are revisited - inter state rivalry, the team bullies, girls being stereotyped according to their origins (a scene where a girl from Andhra Pradesh is termed a 'Madrasi') - however, the treatment saves them from getting boring and repetitive.

Special mention should be made of Shahrukh Khan. The star delivers one of his finest performances in recent times. He holds the film together and his quiet confidence pervades the entire film. We hope we see more of this side of him in subsequent outings as well... but with Om Shanti Om in the works, it looks like we might have to wait a while.

A word of praise for the film's music. It remains in the background and doesn't jar the proceedings. The songs are some of Salim-Suleiman's best, all aptly placed throughout the film. I only wish the title track was sung by Daler Mehendi instead! Direction is good as well and Amin shows he's capable of handling completely diverse genres with ample ease. Jaideep Sahani's screenplay is also one of the stars of the film. Tight, smooth and flows like a charm. A high energy outing, worth a watch.

4/5

Cheers!
Abhishek

India's lost generation

In Harsha Bhogle's recent article in the Indian Express, he mentioned a group of cricketers he claimed to be India's lost generation. These were players who flattered to deceive, who showed an initial spark but failed to live up to their potential, victims of their own prodigious talent. He mentioned Virender Sehwag and Harbhajan Singh. To me they are not so much lost generation players, as they are temporary benchers. These players have proven themselves at the highest level and have now fallen off the radar due to inconsistent performances... I highlight a few current Indian players who have always failed to reach their full potential.



1. Ajit Agarkar - It doesn't get more frustrating than this guy. Oodles of talent, yet an enigma. Century at Lords, yet nicknamed the Bombay Duck. Quickest to reach 50 ODI wickets, yet now only a stock bowler. One never knows which Agarkar will show up at the game. Sometimes brilliant, sometimes wayward and most times plain average. Blessed with immense talent with both bat and bat, this lad has failed to realise his true potential with either. Three performances will stand out for me. His match-winning 4-for in Sharjah against NZ, his 6-for in the Adelaide test win and a 142 kmph beauty he hurled at Mark Waugh in Mumbai, in his second ODI, cutting the stylist completely in half, making him look..erm..clumsy, human. He should have been a certainty in both tests and ODIs, but now plays only in the shorter version of the game.



2. Ambati Rayudu - Hailed as the next big batting hope, this youngster has all but fizzled out. A heavy scorer in domestic cricket early on, his form completely deserted him and a couple of ordinary seasons did him no favours. A couple of Challenger Trophies went a begging and his batting form dipped completely. His domestic average of 39.92 does him no justice. This man is immensely talented. His double hundred and hundred in the same match against Andhra Pradesh in his first Ranji season is testimony to that. He was expected to take over the mantle of genius from Sachin Tendulkar, but still languishes in the mire of domestic cricket.



3. Ashish Nehra - Where is Ashish Nehra? His 6-23 against England will always be etched in popular memory. Yet the man behind a few moments of brilliance has completely disappeared off the scene. Dogged with injury and inconsistent form, this is one player who was to be part of India's new found pace bowling plans. Along with Balaji, they are now part of the what could have been plans.



4. VRV Singh - India's fastest bowler he was touted. Given India's current success with the test team in the fast bowling department, his entry into the bowling lineup looks inevitably delayed. He struggles to stay fit, and is inconsistent at most times. Hope we hear more of him in the future.



5. Akash Chopra - A steady opening bat who was the perfect foil for the exuberant Sehwag. Their opening stands in the tour of Australia were crucial in drawing the series. it was one of the most determined opening stands in the history of modern Indian cricket. Chopra's stonewalling allowed the the batting galacticos to come in play fluently. His contribution as a close in catcher should also not be forgotten. However, the establishment at the BCCI seems to have forgotten him. Dropped by Ganguly to accommodate Yuvraj Singh, a bad move, no doubt, he never could fight his way back into the test team. He and S. Ramesh remain India's best opening hopes who fizzled out after a spark.



Players from the past - There have been a few immensely talented players in the past as well who didn't go on to fulfill their potential - Sadanand Vishwanath, Laxman Sivaramakrishnan, Utpal Chatterjee, Rajender Goel, Padmakar Shivalkar, Raman Lamba and many more.



Cheers!

Abhishek.

Maximum City: Bombay lost and found - Book review

Fucking brilliant!!

Cheers!
Abhishek.

The Bong Connection

Anjan Dutta's 'crossover' effort is not entirely crossover, neither does it offer anything entirely new to the viewer. Yes, a decently packaged product, but that's about it. It will please the Bengalis a bit, but might leave most others a bit bemused about what all the fuss was about.

The story moves on two parallel tracks. Andy, an NRI musician, returns to Kolkata in search of some musical inspiration, a muse of sorts. Apu, a software engineer on the other hand is waiting for the first opportunity to leave Kolkata, a city he thinks has permanently stagnated. He leaves for the US and is quite oblivious of some of the resistance from his girlfriend and his family. He harbours NRI dreams of big money, fancy cars and the high life. For me the Andy track is the more interesting one...Kolkata befuddles the young man... its laid back attitude, the work culture, and this richness of its culture. He sees the youth blindly following western trends, without once turning to the rich and vast cultural heritage of Bengal. He visits a pub, the hallowed Someplace Else, and on hearing the band perform Dylan, he comments, 'How come they're all singing English songs, this is Bengal isn't it, why don't they sing a few Bengali ones as well?' He gets increasingly frustrated with it all. To add to that, all is not well with his own family in Kolkata, his cousin beats up his wife, while the elders chose to completely ignore this almost daily ritual. His retired uncle wishes to sell the family house for a lot of money and settle down to a hum drum life, surviving off the interest. The buyer would probably turn it into a hotel...Andy asks, 'Why can't you run a hotel? You abuse the Marwari for ruining the Bengali and then sell him your house to just to take the easy way out?' The facade of the Bengali Bhadrolok is shattered. The end sees Andy succeed in his musical endeavors and move back to the US, with an offer to score the music of Mira Nair's 'Namsake'no less!

Apu,on the other hand has a more difficult time of it. When he has spare time from bouts of vomiting (as a result of an old Bengali affliction of not being able to hold much liquor) and nodding his head, he works, befriends a Bengali-American girl and an illegal homesick Bangladeshi taxi driver. He has his fun times, falling in love with the Bengali American and drinking (and vomiting again) with his taxi driver friend. However, he is unable to completely come to terms with the life in the land where his dreams are supposed to come true. He is shocked at discovering that his flatmate and coworker is gay. But then stands up for him when he is fired by their homophobic boss. His own frustrations, coupled with his deep rooted Indian grounding, sees him head home to Kolkata, not defeated, but disillusioned. This track is entirely unremarkable, the only highlight being a Bengali party he attends, where every Bengali stereotype is poked fun at. Is Netaji still alive or is he dead? Does Jyoti Babu still drink Blue label? Rabindrasangeet or Nazrulgeeti? How were the pujas this year? This year the hilsa harvest hasn't been good! Its all good fun.

In essence, similar to most 'crossover' NRI-returning-to- India', ABCD-type movies. A light, mildly refreshing little film, with good music (Neel Dutt), average to bad dialogues (more suited for reading) and decent direction. However, the film belongs to the husband-wife duo of Shayan Munshi and Peeya RaiChoudhury. Shayan as Andy is believable and is surely Munshi's best performance to date. Peeya is great as well, both of them having visibly worked really hard on their American accents. Parambrata Chatterjee as Apu is adequate. The supporting cohort of Mamata Shankar, Victor Bannerjee and June Maliya are good. Raima Sen is sincere as usual and turns in a decent number as Apu's girlfriend and Andy's love interest. GOd only knows why Soumitra Chatterjee decided to partak in this venture Andy's paralysed grandfather. All he does in the few minutes he gets is blink twice. The actor playing the Bangladeshi taxi driver is spontaneous and one hopes to see more of him.

So there...for those of you curious enough, or game for a quiet chuckle on a lazy Sunday afternoon, a sample of this may not be too bad. It will obviously help if you're a 'Bong'.

3/5

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Wham! Bham! (or is it Bam!?)

Leaving Bricket Wood this week. Will miss the place and the people. Made new friends, dispelled myths, overcame cultural stereotypes and learnt that all that matters in an organisation are people, and more so when they come in with the right attitude..."all in all its nice to be out..." not sure why I have the Stereophonics on my mind all of a sudden. Hope nothing happens to poor old Kelly or Richard. Last time I had "Sgt. Pepper" playing non-stop in my head, George Harrison died. Coincidence for sure. Or do I have the power to kill musicians off just by playing their records in my head in an endless loop? Watch out Himesh. Crazy made up words were the highlight of the day. Someone almost got away with 'distinctify'. Sounded about right. Who cares. I was supposed sort myself out on this 2 month long training thingy. Going back largely the same person. Only a tad more confused. All this psycho-babble has messed me up a bit..."if you could rewind your life, would it change your mind?". Kelly Jones, time to be scared. Why isn't the brain playing "Imagine" or "Hey Joe"? But I don't want to rewind my life. I like it the way it is. Or do I? Ah, thoughts...thoughts. Power to kill, I tell you. You don't think so? You never know, even long shots make it, sometimes.

Bricket Wood in pictures

A pictorial guide to my employer's best kept secret. Bricket Wood is an hour away from London, in the county of Hertfordshire, in the town of St. Alban's. A small, typical English village almost. Its such a pleasure to get away from the big concrete edifices of the city, and this place is as good a getaway as it gets. All around, you find green fields, grazing giant-size cattle, horses and happy people. And the pubs have the most wonderful names. 'The bat and the ball', 'Hare and hounds', 'The Blacksmith's arms', 'The Whiteheart tap' and 'The merry minstrel', just to name a few. Narrow, small streets intertwine themselves all through the town, almost taking you on journey to a time long gone. If not long gone, then simpler for sure.

The bank's training college in Bricket Wood, was actually the estate of the stately Yule family. Before that it was part of a Roman settlement around 40-60 AD. It then grew in importance for the next few hundred years till the black plague caused all the settlers to relocate. The Yule family bought it in 1900 and patronised it as an estate as well as to entertain Lady Yule's film friends and to breed horses. HSBC purchased the property in 1994 and it has been used as the Group training college ever since. The old buildings are still retained in almost their original splendour, with the Hanstead House being the pick of the lot. While many cottages line various parts of the training campus, the Hexagon Bar and the adjoining building exudes the most old world charm, with their dated but exquisite wooden panelling and high ceilings. The campus contains a football ground, a cricket pitch and a Community recreational premises, which the other residents of the area can also use. Another highlight for me is the beautiful lake on the premises, complete with its family of swans. A sight to behold on a bright summer's day. The pictures should tell their own story.


Trivia on the campus -


- The river Thames used to run by the sight, till the glacier 'Anglian' rerouted it.
- Gladys Yule built a pet cemetery on the estate, which still exists.
- Hanstead House's garden has a mulberry bush which is 400 yrs old!
- Hanstead House once had its own private zoo. Bears were a-roaming...
- Nearly 85 films made by the British National Films company were premiered at Hanstead House.
- Sir David Yule was the richest man in the Empire when he died in 1928.
- Reports exist of sightings of the ghost of Lady Gladys Yule!

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Block... Chakka jam

Finally... writer's block has set in... nothing interesting to blog about at all... or nothing I can dress up as interesting because of the inability to actually write it. Shite.. I'm hamming already. Well, to save some grace here I'll just say that for the last 3 weeks I've been in Bricket Wood, north of London, on work stuff. Another month to go. Its kinda boring, but fun at times. Its a lot like coming back to university. Campus, multicultural crowd, drinking binges and lots of work. Good overall I guess, though I do wish London wasn't so bleedin' expensive. Planning a Twenty-20 game here amongst the lads on Wednesday...lets see how that goes. The wife meanwhile is having a darm good time travelling around England and Scotland. Some people have all the luck... oh well.

Cheers!
Abhishek.