A writer in hibernation, online I can wake up any day to claim my rightful place in the written word’s cosmos. Till then, abortion I am content with this blog – which is, as the name suggests, a random expressions of what crosses my mind. I call this blog a one-stop shop for entertainment reading in its various dimensions, providing a little relief from your life’s daily rigmarole. The blog has stories, view points, opinions, travel related entries, general posts, reviews and of course, lots on Bollywood music and Lata Mangeshkar (a voice I am passionate about)!
Archives
I hope your experience at RE is fruitful. To access my previous posts, a good place to start is to visit the Comprehensive Archives Page which gives you the list of posts month-wise as well as the break up category-wise. There is a ‘search form’ available to enable you find the exact post you are looking for.
The comments on the posts are enabled, and it will give me a pleasure to know your views.
Contact
You can contact Random Expressions by using the contact form here
Announcements
You can join the announcement list (as given on the right hand side bar). Rest assured your email will remain confidential and will not be used other than sending out announcements from time to time. I hate spam more than any one could (esp. since I struggle quite a lot with it, both on this site and on my mails)
Donate
If you find the site useful and entertaining, please do make a nominal donation to help up-keep the site in its full beauty and form. You can help by clicking here.
Disclaimer
Comments are unmoderated and hence open to everyone. I take no risk or responsibility for them.
If you find some comment offensive or in bad taste then you may write to me. I will try to remove the same if I have time or feel they are really in bad taste. There is no guarantee for this.
So sit back, relax and enjoy! Happy Reading!
Deepak Jeswal
A writer in hibernation, online I can wake up any day to claim my rightful place in the written word’s cosmos. Till then, abortion I am content with this blog – which is, as the name suggests, a random expressions of what crosses my mind. I call this blog a one-stop shop for entertainment reading in its various dimensions, providing a little relief from your life’s daily rigmarole. The blog has stories, view points, opinions, travel related entries, general posts, reviews and of course, lots on Bollywood music and Lata Mangeshkar (a voice I am passionate about)!
Archives
I hope your experience at RE is fruitful. To access my previous posts, a good place to start is to visit the Comprehensive Archives Page which gives you the list of posts month-wise as well as the break up category-wise. There is a ‘search form’ available to enable you find the exact post you are looking for.
The comments on the posts are enabled, and it will give me a pleasure to know your views.
Contact
You can contact Random Expressions by using the contact form here
Announcements
You can join the announcement list (as given on the right hand side bar). Rest assured your email will remain confidential and will not be used other than sending out announcements from time to time. I hate spam more than any one could (esp. since I struggle quite a lot with it, both on this site and on my mails)
Donate
If you find the site useful and entertaining, please do make a nominal donation to help up-keep the site in its full beauty and form. You can help by clicking here.
Disclaimer
Comments are unmoderated and hence open to everyone. I take no risk or responsibility for them.
If you find some comment offensive or in bad taste then you may write to me. I will try to remove the same if I have time or feel they are really in bad taste. There is no guarantee for this.
So sit back, relax and enjoy! Happy Reading!
Deepak Jeswal
A writer in hibernation, online I can wake up any day to claim my rightful place in the written word’s cosmos. Till then, abortion I am content with this blog – which is, as the name suggests, a random expressions of what crosses my mind. I call this blog a one-stop shop for entertainment reading in its various dimensions, providing a little relief from your life’s daily rigmarole. The blog has stories, view points, opinions, travel related entries, general posts, reviews and of course, lots on Bollywood music and Lata Mangeshkar (a voice I am passionate about)!
Archives
I hope your experience at RE is fruitful. To access my previous posts, a good place to start is to visit the Comprehensive Archives Page which gives you the list of posts month-wise as well as the break up category-wise. There is a ‘search form’ available to enable you find the exact post you are looking for.
The comments on the posts are enabled, and it will give me a pleasure to know your views.
Contact
You can contact Random Expressions by using the contact form here
Announcements
You can join the announcement list (as given on the right hand side bar). Rest assured your email will remain confidential and will not be used other than sending out announcements from time to time. I hate spam more than any one could (esp. since I struggle quite a lot with it, both on this site and on my mails)
Donate
If you find the site useful and entertaining, please do make a nominal donation to help up-keep the site in its full beauty and form. You can help by clicking here.
Disclaimer
Comments are unmoderated and hence open to everyone. I take no risk or responsibility for them.
If you find some comment offensive or in bad taste then you may write to me. I will try to remove the same if I have time or feel they are really in bad taste. There is no guarantee for this.
So sit back, relax and enjoy! Happy Reading!
Deepak Jeswal
Music Review
It’s after listening to the film’s music I realised how much I missed Jatin-Lalit’s music. Sadly, look
this will be their swan song as a team, with both partners splitting up officially – quite a first in music industry; even though Shankar and Jaikishan were composing and interacting with producers separately some five-six years prior to Jaikishan’s untimely death, still they held to “S-J brand” very closely, so much so that Shankar did not allow the hyphen to go even when he was left alone by destiny’s chilling hand!
In mid-nineties JL were there right at the top – with two back-to-back musical bumper hits (DDLJ and Kuch Kuch Hota Hai) and several other hits (Pyar To Hona Hi Tha, Jab Pyar Kisise Hota Hai etc), they were sitting primly at the peak – till differences arose. Their last notable release was Hum Tum, from the same team as Fanaa.
Fanaa is a good farewell gift from the duo.
The most interesting point is to see Sunidhi Chauhan shedding off her ‘item girl’ image, an avatar she
momentarily slipped out of in Sur, but didn’t do much to later follow it up. In Fanaa, she gets to croon two soft numbers, of which ‘Tere haath mein mera haath ho’ is heart-meltingly effusive. To Sunidhi’s credit, she jumps at the opportunity with élan. The song embellished with some Kashmiri music has snippets of verses spoken by lead pair Aamir and Kajol, and Sonu Nigam gives pleasant company.
Her other duet (again with Sonu) Yeh saazish hai boondon ki (Dekho Na) is charming, sculpted with care and romance just like Hum Tum’s much appreciated title song.
It was ‘Chanda chamke’ that made me miss JL the most! The song is so typically JL that I really wish they would bury their differences and come together again. This song is based on alliterative tongue-twisters we all loved during our childhood. Singers are Babul Supriyo, Mahalaxmi and Master Akhay, with Aamir and Kajol again doing honors with a few words in between. Excellent interludes make it a lovable song.
Mahalaxmi’s solo ‘Des Rangila’, a patriotic song, is probably the only weakest link, yet in the reflective luminesce of other songs it shines.
My most favorite and undoubtedly the album’s best track is Shaan-Kailash Kher’s Chaand sifarish karta jo hamari. It’s a unique composition – the introduction is sort of ‘Balle balle on a Sunday’ riff(Bunty Aur Bubli) meets AR Rahman’s qawaali beats from Bombay (Kahne hi kya), to which is snitched just a sliver of Junoon’s electric guitar signature rhythm, and yet the song doesn’t look like some tattered hand-me down; primarily due to the excellent whistling theme music that takes over, and a tune which takes off on a wonderfully lip-friendly plane. The rhythm is awesome; and Shaan is perfectly in sync with the romantic mood! Even if you don’t plan to buy the album, don’t ever miss this song any which way! For this song itself, I would have given the below mentioned rating, but then the score has enough merit to claim its rightful share in music lover’s mind.
You can listen to songs online here.
Overall: A Good Buy!
A writer in hibernation, online I can wake up any day to claim my rightful place in the written word’s cosmos. Till then, abortion I am content with this blog – which is, as the name suggests, a random expressions of what crosses my mind. I call this blog a one-stop shop for entertainment reading in its various dimensions, providing a little relief from your life’s daily rigmarole. The blog has stories, view points, opinions, travel related entries, general posts, reviews and of course, lots on Bollywood music and Lata Mangeshkar (a voice I am passionate about)!
Archives
I hope your experience at RE is fruitful. To access my previous posts, a good place to start is to visit the Comprehensive Archives Page which gives you the list of posts month-wise as well as the break up category-wise. There is a ‘search form’ available to enable you find the exact post you are looking for.
The comments on the posts are enabled, and it will give me a pleasure to know your views.
Contact
You can contact Random Expressions by using the contact form here
Announcements
You can join the announcement list (as given on the right hand side bar). Rest assured your email will remain confidential and will not be used other than sending out announcements from time to time. I hate spam more than any one could (esp. since I struggle quite a lot with it, both on this site and on my mails)
Donate
If you find the site useful and entertaining, please do make a nominal donation to help up-keep the site in its full beauty and form. You can help by clicking here.
Disclaimer
Comments are unmoderated and hence open to everyone. I take no risk or responsibility for them.
If you find some comment offensive or in bad taste then you may write to me. I will try to remove the same if I have time or feel they are really in bad taste. There is no guarantee for this.
So sit back, relax and enjoy! Happy Reading!
Deepak Jeswal
A writer in hibernation, online I can wake up any day to claim my rightful place in the written word’s cosmos. Till then, abortion I am content with this blog – which is, as the name suggests, a random expressions of what crosses my mind. I call this blog a one-stop shop for entertainment reading in its various dimensions, providing a little relief from your life’s daily rigmarole. The blog has stories, view points, opinions, travel related entries, general posts, reviews and of course, lots on Bollywood music and Lata Mangeshkar (a voice I am passionate about)!
Archives
I hope your experience at RE is fruitful. To access my previous posts, a good place to start is to visit the Comprehensive Archives Page which gives you the list of posts month-wise as well as the break up category-wise. There is a ‘search form’ available to enable you find the exact post you are looking for.
The comments on the posts are enabled, and it will give me a pleasure to know your views.
Contact
You can contact Random Expressions by using the contact form here
Announcements
You can join the announcement list (as given on the right hand side bar). Rest assured your email will remain confidential and will not be used other than sending out announcements from time to time. I hate spam more than any one could (esp. since I struggle quite a lot with it, both on this site and on my mails)
Donate
If you find the site useful and entertaining, please do make a nominal donation to help up-keep the site in its full beauty and form. You can help by clicking here.
Disclaimer
Comments are unmoderated and hence open to everyone. I take no risk or responsibility for them.
If you find some comment offensive or in bad taste then you may write to me. I will try to remove the same if I have time or feel they are really in bad taste. There is no guarantee for this.
So sit back, relax and enjoy! Happy Reading!
Deepak Jeswal
Music Review
It’s after listening to the film’s music I realised how much I missed Jatin-Lalit’s music. Sadly, look
this will be their swan song as a team, with both partners splitting up officially – quite a first in music industry; even though Shankar and Jaikishan were composing and interacting with producers separately some five-six years prior to Jaikishan’s untimely death, still they held to “S-J brand” very closely, so much so that Shankar did not allow the hyphen to go even when he was left alone by destiny’s chilling hand!
In mid-nineties JL were there right at the top – with two back-to-back musical bumper hits (DDLJ and Kuch Kuch Hota Hai) and several other hits (Pyar To Hona Hi Tha, Jab Pyar Kisise Hota Hai etc), they were sitting primly at the peak – till differences arose. Their last notable release was Hum Tum, from the same team as Fanaa.
Fanaa is a good farewell gift from the duo.
The most interesting point is to see Sunidhi Chauhan shedding off her ‘item girl’ image, an avatar she
momentarily slipped out of in Sur, but didn’t do much to later follow it up. In Fanaa, she gets to croon two soft numbers, of which ‘Tere haath mein mera haath ho’ is heart-meltingly effusive. To Sunidhi’s credit, she jumps at the opportunity with élan. The song embellished with some Kashmiri music has snippets of verses spoken by lead pair Aamir and Kajol, and Sonu Nigam gives pleasant company.
Her other duet (again with Sonu) Yeh saazish hai boondon ki (Dekho Na) is charming, sculpted with care and romance just like Hum Tum’s much appreciated title song.
It was ‘Chanda chamke’ that made me miss JL the most! The song is so typically JL that I really wish they would bury their differences and come together again. This song is based on alliterative tongue-twisters we all loved during our childhood. Singers are Babul Supriyo, Mahalaxmi and Master Akhay, with Aamir and Kajol again doing honors with a few words in between. Excellent interludes make it a lovable song.
Mahalaxmi’s solo ‘Des Rangila’, a patriotic song, is probably the only weakest link, yet in the reflective luminesce of other songs it shines.
My most favorite and undoubtedly the album’s best track is Shaan-Kailash Kher’s Chaand sifarish karta jo hamari. It’s a unique composition – the introduction is sort of ‘Balle balle on a Sunday’ riff(Bunty Aur Bubli) meets AR Rahman’s qawaali beats from Bombay (Kahne hi kya), to which is snitched just a sliver of Junoon’s electric guitar signature rhythm, and yet the song doesn’t look like some tattered hand-me down; primarily due to the excellent whistling theme music that takes over, and a tune which takes off on a wonderfully lip-friendly plane. The rhythm is awesome; and Shaan is perfectly in sync with the romantic mood! Even if you don’t plan to buy the album, don’t ever miss this song any which way! For this song itself, I would have given the below mentioned rating, but then the score has enough merit to claim its rightful share in music lover’s mind.
You can listen to songs online here.
Overall: A Good Buy!
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
A writer in hibernation, online I can wake up any day to claim my rightful place in the written word’s cosmos. Till then, abortion I am content with this blog – which is, as the name suggests, a random expressions of what crosses my mind. I call this blog a one-stop shop for entertainment reading in its various dimensions, providing a little relief from your life’s daily rigmarole. The blog has stories, view points, opinions, travel related entries, general posts, reviews and of course, lots on Bollywood music and Lata Mangeshkar (a voice I am passionate about)!
Archives
I hope your experience at RE is fruitful. To access my previous posts, a good place to start is to visit the Comprehensive Archives Page which gives you the list of posts month-wise as well as the break up category-wise. There is a ‘search form’ available to enable you find the exact post you are looking for.
The comments on the posts are enabled, and it will give me a pleasure to know your views.
Contact
You can contact Random Expressions by using the contact form here
Announcements
You can join the announcement list (as given on the right hand side bar). Rest assured your email will remain confidential and will not be used other than sending out announcements from time to time. I hate spam more than any one could (esp. since I struggle quite a lot with it, both on this site and on my mails)
Donate
If you find the site useful and entertaining, please do make a nominal donation to help up-keep the site in its full beauty and form. You can help by clicking here.
Disclaimer
Comments are unmoderated and hence open to everyone. I take no risk or responsibility for them.
If you find some comment offensive or in bad taste then you may write to me. I will try to remove the same if I have time or feel they are really in bad taste. There is no guarantee for this.
So sit back, relax and enjoy! Happy Reading!
Deepak Jeswal
A writer in hibernation, online I can wake up any day to claim my rightful place in the written word’s cosmos. Till then, abortion I am content with this blog – which is, as the name suggests, a random expressions of what crosses my mind. I call this blog a one-stop shop for entertainment reading in its various dimensions, providing a little relief from your life’s daily rigmarole. The blog has stories, view points, opinions, travel related entries, general posts, reviews and of course, lots on Bollywood music and Lata Mangeshkar (a voice I am passionate about)!
Archives
I hope your experience at RE is fruitful. To access my previous posts, a good place to start is to visit the Comprehensive Archives Page which gives you the list of posts month-wise as well as the break up category-wise. There is a ‘search form’ available to enable you find the exact post you are looking for.
The comments on the posts are enabled, and it will give me a pleasure to know your views.
Contact
You can contact Random Expressions by using the contact form here
Announcements
You can join the announcement list (as given on the right hand side bar). Rest assured your email will remain confidential and will not be used other than sending out announcements from time to time. I hate spam more than any one could (esp. since I struggle quite a lot with it, both on this site and on my mails)
Donate
If you find the site useful and entertaining, please do make a nominal donation to help up-keep the site in its full beauty and form. You can help by clicking here.
Disclaimer
Comments are unmoderated and hence open to everyone. I take no risk or responsibility for them.
If you find some comment offensive or in bad taste then you may write to me. I will try to remove the same if I have time or feel they are really in bad taste. There is no guarantee for this.
So sit back, relax and enjoy! Happy Reading!
Deepak Jeswal
Music Review
It’s after listening to the film’s music I realised how much I missed Jatin-Lalit’s music. Sadly, look
this will be their swan song as a team, with both partners splitting up officially – quite a first in music industry; even though Shankar and Jaikishan were composing and interacting with producers separately some five-six years prior to Jaikishan’s untimely death, still they held to “S-J brand” very closely, so much so that Shankar did not allow the hyphen to go even when he was left alone by destiny’s chilling hand!
In mid-nineties JL were there right at the top – with two back-to-back musical bumper hits (DDLJ and Kuch Kuch Hota Hai) and several other hits (Pyar To Hona Hi Tha, Jab Pyar Kisise Hota Hai etc), they were sitting primly at the peak – till differences arose. Their last notable release was Hum Tum, from the same team as Fanaa.
Fanaa is a good farewell gift from the duo.
The most interesting point is to see Sunidhi Chauhan shedding off her ‘item girl’ image, an avatar she
momentarily slipped out of in Sur, but didn’t do much to later follow it up. In Fanaa, she gets to croon two soft numbers, of which ‘Tere haath mein mera haath ho’ is heart-meltingly effusive. To Sunidhi’s credit, she jumps at the opportunity with élan. The song embellished with some Kashmiri music has snippets of verses spoken by lead pair Aamir and Kajol, and Sonu Nigam gives pleasant company.
Her other duet (again with Sonu) Yeh saazish hai boondon ki (Dekho Na) is charming, sculpted with care and romance just like Hum Tum’s much appreciated title song.
It was ‘Chanda chamke’ that made me miss JL the most! The song is so typically JL that I really wish they would bury their differences and come together again. This song is based on alliterative tongue-twisters we all loved during our childhood. Singers are Babul Supriyo, Mahalaxmi and Master Akhay, with Aamir and Kajol again doing honors with a few words in between. Excellent interludes make it a lovable song.
Mahalaxmi’s solo ‘Des Rangila’, a patriotic song, is probably the only weakest link, yet in the reflective luminesce of other songs it shines.
My most favorite and undoubtedly the album’s best track is Shaan-Kailash Kher’s Chaand sifarish karta jo hamari. It’s a unique composition – the introduction is sort of ‘Balle balle on a Sunday’ riff(Bunty Aur Bubli) meets AR Rahman’s qawaali beats from Bombay (Kahne hi kya), to which is snitched just a sliver of Junoon’s electric guitar signature rhythm, and yet the song doesn’t look like some tattered hand-me down; primarily due to the excellent whistling theme music that takes over, and a tune which takes off on a wonderfully lip-friendly plane. The rhythm is awesome; and Shaan is perfectly in sync with the romantic mood! Even if you don’t plan to buy the album, don’t ever miss this song any which way! For this song itself, I would have given the below mentioned rating, but then the score has enough merit to claim its rightful share in music lover’s mind.
You can listen to songs online here.
Overall: A Good Buy!
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
Bahut bechain, eczema
bahut betaab hai hum;
Bahut bekaraar, surgeon
bahut talabgaar hai hum
Aaj ki raat neend nahi aayegi
Aaj ki raat karwaton mein guzar jaayegi,
Silwaton mein subah gin lenge murjhaaye hue khwaab,
Aaj ki raat to masalne mein guzar jaayegi
Hamari tishnagi ka koie dariya nahi
Hamari mushqilon ka koie zaria nahi
Subah roshni ki barsaat hogi magar,
Aaj ki raat to kale sehre mein jaayegi
Kyun bechain kyun betaab hai hum
Kyun bekaraar kyun talabgaar hai hum
Ik hasrat hai dil mein
Ik chaah zahan ki
Paak ke jaise ho duaayen
Khaalikh par usme gunaahon si
Dil ke daayaron ko baandh diya
Armaanon ki rawaani ko rok diya
Khwashiyon ko humne dafn kiya
Bas jee rah ik zindagi si
Bejaan ruh ki dhadkan si
Is liye bechain, is liye betaab hai hum
Is liye talabgaar, is liye bekaraar hai hum
A writer in hibernation, online I can wake up any day to claim my rightful place in the written word’s cosmos. Till then, abortion I am content with this blog – which is, as the name suggests, a random expressions of what crosses my mind. I call this blog a one-stop shop for entertainment reading in its various dimensions, providing a little relief from your life’s daily rigmarole. The blog has stories, view points, opinions, travel related entries, general posts, reviews and of course, lots on Bollywood music and Lata Mangeshkar (a voice I am passionate about)!
Archives
I hope your experience at RE is fruitful. To access my previous posts, a good place to start is to visit the Comprehensive Archives Page which gives you the list of posts month-wise as well as the break up category-wise. There is a ‘search form’ available to enable you find the exact post you are looking for.
The comments on the posts are enabled, and it will give me a pleasure to know your views.
Contact
You can contact Random Expressions by using the contact form here
Announcements
You can join the announcement list (as given on the right hand side bar). Rest assured your email will remain confidential and will not be used other than sending out announcements from time to time. I hate spam more than any one could (esp. since I struggle quite a lot with it, both on this site and on my mails)
Donate
If you find the site useful and entertaining, please do make a nominal donation to help up-keep the site in its full beauty and form. You can help by clicking here.
Disclaimer
Comments are unmoderated and hence open to everyone. I take no risk or responsibility for them.
If you find some comment offensive or in bad taste then you may write to me. I will try to remove the same if I have time or feel they are really in bad taste. There is no guarantee for this.
So sit back, relax and enjoy! Happy Reading!
Deepak Jeswal
A writer in hibernation, online I can wake up any day to claim my rightful place in the written word’s cosmos. Till then, abortion I am content with this blog – which is, as the name suggests, a random expressions of what crosses my mind. I call this blog a one-stop shop for entertainment reading in its various dimensions, providing a little relief from your life’s daily rigmarole. The blog has stories, view points, opinions, travel related entries, general posts, reviews and of course, lots on Bollywood music and Lata Mangeshkar (a voice I am passionate about)!
Archives
I hope your experience at RE is fruitful. To access my previous posts, a good place to start is to visit the Comprehensive Archives Page which gives you the list of posts month-wise as well as the break up category-wise. There is a ‘search form’ available to enable you find the exact post you are looking for.
The comments on the posts are enabled, and it will give me a pleasure to know your views.
Contact
You can contact Random Expressions by using the contact form here
Announcements
You can join the announcement list (as given on the right hand side bar). Rest assured your email will remain confidential and will not be used other than sending out announcements from time to time. I hate spam more than any one could (esp. since I struggle quite a lot with it, both on this site and on my mails)
Donate
If you find the site useful and entertaining, please do make a nominal donation to help up-keep the site in its full beauty and form. You can help by clicking here.
Disclaimer
Comments are unmoderated and hence open to everyone. I take no risk or responsibility for them.
If you find some comment offensive or in bad taste then you may write to me. I will try to remove the same if I have time or feel they are really in bad taste. There is no guarantee for this.
So sit back, relax and enjoy! Happy Reading!
Deepak Jeswal
Music Review
It’s after listening to the film’s music I realised how much I missed Jatin-Lalit’s music. Sadly, look
this will be their swan song as a team, with both partners splitting up officially – quite a first in music industry; even though Shankar and Jaikishan were composing and interacting with producers separately some five-six years prior to Jaikishan’s untimely death, still they held to “S-J brand” very closely, so much so that Shankar did not allow the hyphen to go even when he was left alone by destiny’s chilling hand!
In mid-nineties JL were there right at the top – with two back-to-back musical bumper hits (DDLJ and Kuch Kuch Hota Hai) and several other hits (Pyar To Hona Hi Tha, Jab Pyar Kisise Hota Hai etc), they were sitting primly at the peak – till differences arose. Their last notable release was Hum Tum, from the same team as Fanaa.
Fanaa is a good farewell gift from the duo.
The most interesting point is to see Sunidhi Chauhan shedding off her ‘item girl’ image, an avatar she
momentarily slipped out of in Sur, but didn’t do much to later follow it up. In Fanaa, she gets to croon two soft numbers, of which ‘Tere haath mein mera haath ho’ is heart-meltingly effusive. To Sunidhi’s credit, she jumps at the opportunity with élan. The song embellished with some Kashmiri music has snippets of verses spoken by lead pair Aamir and Kajol, and Sonu Nigam gives pleasant company.
Her other duet (again with Sonu) Yeh saazish hai boondon ki (Dekho Na) is charming, sculpted with care and romance just like Hum Tum’s much appreciated title song.
It was ‘Chanda chamke’ that made me miss JL the most! The song is so typically JL that I really wish they would bury their differences and come together again. This song is based on alliterative tongue-twisters we all loved during our childhood. Singers are Babul Supriyo, Mahalaxmi and Master Akhay, with Aamir and Kajol again doing honors with a few words in between. Excellent interludes make it a lovable song.
Mahalaxmi’s solo ‘Des Rangila’, a patriotic song, is probably the only weakest link, yet in the reflective luminesce of other songs it shines.
My most favorite and undoubtedly the album’s best track is Shaan-Kailash Kher’s Chaand sifarish karta jo hamari. It’s a unique composition – the introduction is sort of ‘Balle balle on a Sunday’ riff(Bunty Aur Bubli) meets AR Rahman’s qawaali beats from Bombay (Kahne hi kya), to which is snitched just a sliver of Junoon’s electric guitar signature rhythm, and yet the song doesn’t look like some tattered hand-me down; primarily due to the excellent whistling theme music that takes over, and a tune which takes off on a wonderfully lip-friendly plane. The rhythm is awesome; and Shaan is perfectly in sync with the romantic mood! Even if you don’t plan to buy the album, don’t ever miss this song any which way! For this song itself, I would have given the below mentioned rating, but then the score has enough merit to claim its rightful share in music lover’s mind.
You can listen to songs online here.
Overall: A Good Buy!
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
Bahut bechain, eczema
bahut betaab hai hum;
Bahut bekaraar, surgeon
bahut talabgaar hai hum
Aaj ki raat neend nahi aayegi
Aaj ki raat karwaton mein guzar jaayegi,
Silwaton mein subah gin lenge murjhaaye hue khwaab,
Aaj ki raat to masalne mein guzar jaayegi
Hamari tishnagi ka koie dariya nahi
Hamari mushqilon ka koie zaria nahi
Subah roshni ki barsaat hogi magar,
Aaj ki raat to kale sehre mein jaayegi
Kyun bechain kyun betaab hai hum
Kyun bekaraar kyun talabgaar hai hum
Ik hasrat hai dil mein
Ik chaah zahan ki
Paak ke jaise ho duaayen
Khaalikh par usme gunaahon si
Dil ke daayaron ko baandh diya
Armaanon ki rawaani ko rok diya
Khwashiyon ko humne dafn kiya
Bas jee rah ik zindagi si
Bejaan ruh ki dhadkan si
Is liye bechain, is liye betaab hai hum
Is liye talabgaar, is liye bekaraar hai hum
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
Bahut bechain, eczema
bahut betaab hai hum;
Bahut bekaraar, surgeon
bahut talabgaar hai hum
Aaj ki raat neend nahi aayegi
Aaj ki raat karwaton mein guzar jaayegi,
Silwaton mein subah gin lenge murjhaaye hue khwaab,
Aaj ki raat to masalne mein guzar jaayegi
Hamari tishnagi ka koie dariya nahi
Hamari mushqilon ka koie zaria nahi
Subah roshni ki barsaat hogi magar,
Aaj ki raat to kale sehre mein jaayegi
Kyun bechain kyun betaab hai hum
Kyun bekaraar kyun talabgaar hai hum
Ik hasrat hai dil mein
Ik chaah zahan ki
Paak ke jaise ho duaayen
Khaalikh par usme gunaahon si
Dil ke daayaron ko baandh diya
Armaanon ki rawaani ko rok diya
Khwashiyon ko humne dafn kiya
Bas jee rah ik zindagi si
Bejaan ruh ki dhadkan si
Is liye bechain, is liye betaab hai hum
Is liye talabgaar, is liye bekaraar hai hum
Haan karliya, order
jee karliya humne jurm-e-ulfat
Aankh roti rahi, haa roti rahi, par hans gayi kismat
Kal talak mai bhi mehfilon mein gaata tha
Phoolon se gulshan mera bhi saja karta tha
Aaj veeran ho gayi meri chaahat
Aankh roti rahi , haai roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Aaj koi sapna aankhon mein sajta nahi
Koie bhi rang dil ko bhaata nahi
Na jaan paya taqdeer ki taaqat
Aaankh roti rahi, haa roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Kal ho na ho iska nahi aitbaar
Kal ka ab mujhe nahi intezaar
Kahi se mil jaaye mujhko bhi raahat
Aaankh roti rahi , haa roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
A writer in hibernation, online I can wake up any day to claim my rightful place in the written word’s cosmos. Till then, abortion I am content with this blog – which is, as the name suggests, a random expressions of what crosses my mind. I call this blog a one-stop shop for entertainment reading in its various dimensions, providing a little relief from your life’s daily rigmarole. The blog has stories, view points, opinions, travel related entries, general posts, reviews and of course, lots on Bollywood music and Lata Mangeshkar (a voice I am passionate about)!
Archives
I hope your experience at RE is fruitful. To access my previous posts, a good place to start is to visit the Comprehensive Archives Page which gives you the list of posts month-wise as well as the break up category-wise. There is a ‘search form’ available to enable you find the exact post you are looking for.
The comments on the posts are enabled, and it will give me a pleasure to know your views.
Contact
You can contact Random Expressions by using the contact form here
Announcements
You can join the announcement list (as given on the right hand side bar). Rest assured your email will remain confidential and will not be used other than sending out announcements from time to time. I hate spam more than any one could (esp. since I struggle quite a lot with it, both on this site and on my mails)
Donate
If you find the site useful and entertaining, please do make a nominal donation to help up-keep the site in its full beauty and form. You can help by clicking here.
Disclaimer
Comments are unmoderated and hence open to everyone. I take no risk or responsibility for them.
If you find some comment offensive or in bad taste then you may write to me. I will try to remove the same if I have time or feel they are really in bad taste. There is no guarantee for this.
So sit back, relax and enjoy! Happy Reading!
Deepak Jeswal
A writer in hibernation, online I can wake up any day to claim my rightful place in the written word’s cosmos. Till then, abortion I am content with this blog – which is, as the name suggests, a random expressions of what crosses my mind. I call this blog a one-stop shop for entertainment reading in its various dimensions, providing a little relief from your life’s daily rigmarole. The blog has stories, view points, opinions, travel related entries, general posts, reviews and of course, lots on Bollywood music and Lata Mangeshkar (a voice I am passionate about)!
Archives
I hope your experience at RE is fruitful. To access my previous posts, a good place to start is to visit the Comprehensive Archives Page which gives you the list of posts month-wise as well as the break up category-wise. There is a ‘search form’ available to enable you find the exact post you are looking for.
The comments on the posts are enabled, and it will give me a pleasure to know your views.
Contact
You can contact Random Expressions by using the contact form here
Announcements
You can join the announcement list (as given on the right hand side bar). Rest assured your email will remain confidential and will not be used other than sending out announcements from time to time. I hate spam more than any one could (esp. since I struggle quite a lot with it, both on this site and on my mails)
Donate
If you find the site useful and entertaining, please do make a nominal donation to help up-keep the site in its full beauty and form. You can help by clicking here.
Disclaimer
Comments are unmoderated and hence open to everyone. I take no risk or responsibility for them.
If you find some comment offensive or in bad taste then you may write to me. I will try to remove the same if I have time or feel they are really in bad taste. There is no guarantee for this.
So sit back, relax and enjoy! Happy Reading!
Deepak Jeswal
Music Review
It’s after listening to the film’s music I realised how much I missed Jatin-Lalit’s music. Sadly, look
this will be their swan song as a team, with both partners splitting up officially – quite a first in music industry; even though Shankar and Jaikishan were composing and interacting with producers separately some five-six years prior to Jaikishan’s untimely death, still they held to “S-J brand” very closely, so much so that Shankar did not allow the hyphen to go even when he was left alone by destiny’s chilling hand!
In mid-nineties JL were there right at the top – with two back-to-back musical bumper hits (DDLJ and Kuch Kuch Hota Hai) and several other hits (Pyar To Hona Hi Tha, Jab Pyar Kisise Hota Hai etc), they were sitting primly at the peak – till differences arose. Their last notable release was Hum Tum, from the same team as Fanaa.
Fanaa is a good farewell gift from the duo.
The most interesting point is to see Sunidhi Chauhan shedding off her ‘item girl’ image, an avatar she
momentarily slipped out of in Sur, but didn’t do much to later follow it up. In Fanaa, she gets to croon two soft numbers, of which ‘Tere haath mein mera haath ho’ is heart-meltingly effusive. To Sunidhi’s credit, she jumps at the opportunity with élan. The song embellished with some Kashmiri music has snippets of verses spoken by lead pair Aamir and Kajol, and Sonu Nigam gives pleasant company.
Her other duet (again with Sonu) Yeh saazish hai boondon ki (Dekho Na) is charming, sculpted with care and romance just like Hum Tum’s much appreciated title song.
It was ‘Chanda chamke’ that made me miss JL the most! The song is so typically JL that I really wish they would bury their differences and come together again. This song is based on alliterative tongue-twisters we all loved during our childhood. Singers are Babul Supriyo, Mahalaxmi and Master Akhay, with Aamir and Kajol again doing honors with a few words in between. Excellent interludes make it a lovable song.
Mahalaxmi’s solo ‘Des Rangila’, a patriotic song, is probably the only weakest link, yet in the reflective luminesce of other songs it shines.
My most favorite and undoubtedly the album’s best track is Shaan-Kailash Kher’s Chaand sifarish karta jo hamari. It’s a unique composition – the introduction is sort of ‘Balle balle on a Sunday’ riff(Bunty Aur Bubli) meets AR Rahman’s qawaali beats from Bombay (Kahne hi kya), to which is snitched just a sliver of Junoon’s electric guitar signature rhythm, and yet the song doesn’t look like some tattered hand-me down; primarily due to the excellent whistling theme music that takes over, and a tune which takes off on a wonderfully lip-friendly plane. The rhythm is awesome; and Shaan is perfectly in sync with the romantic mood! Even if you don’t plan to buy the album, don’t ever miss this song any which way! For this song itself, I would have given the below mentioned rating, but then the score has enough merit to claim its rightful share in music lover’s mind.
You can listen to songs online here.
Overall: A Good Buy!
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
Bahut bechain, eczema
bahut betaab hai hum;
Bahut bekaraar, surgeon
bahut talabgaar hai hum
Aaj ki raat neend nahi aayegi
Aaj ki raat karwaton mein guzar jaayegi,
Silwaton mein subah gin lenge murjhaaye hue khwaab,
Aaj ki raat to masalne mein guzar jaayegi
Hamari tishnagi ka koie dariya nahi
Hamari mushqilon ka koie zaria nahi
Subah roshni ki barsaat hogi magar,
Aaj ki raat to kale sehre mein jaayegi
Kyun bechain kyun betaab hai hum
Kyun bekaraar kyun talabgaar hai hum
Ik hasrat hai dil mein
Ik chaah zahan ki
Paak ke jaise ho duaayen
Khaalikh par usme gunaahon si
Dil ke daayaron ko baandh diya
Armaanon ki rawaani ko rok diya
Khwashiyon ko humne dafn kiya
Bas jee rah ik zindagi si
Bejaan ruh ki dhadkan si
Is liye bechain, is liye betaab hai hum
Is liye talabgaar, is liye bekaraar hai hum
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
Bahut bechain, eczema
bahut betaab hai hum;
Bahut bekaraar, surgeon
bahut talabgaar hai hum
Aaj ki raat neend nahi aayegi
Aaj ki raat karwaton mein guzar jaayegi,
Silwaton mein subah gin lenge murjhaaye hue khwaab,
Aaj ki raat to masalne mein guzar jaayegi
Hamari tishnagi ka koie dariya nahi
Hamari mushqilon ka koie zaria nahi
Subah roshni ki barsaat hogi magar,
Aaj ki raat to kale sehre mein jaayegi
Kyun bechain kyun betaab hai hum
Kyun bekaraar kyun talabgaar hai hum
Ik hasrat hai dil mein
Ik chaah zahan ki
Paak ke jaise ho duaayen
Khaalikh par usme gunaahon si
Dil ke daayaron ko baandh diya
Armaanon ki rawaani ko rok diya
Khwashiyon ko humne dafn kiya
Bas jee rah ik zindagi si
Bejaan ruh ki dhadkan si
Is liye bechain, is liye betaab hai hum
Is liye talabgaar, is liye bekaraar hai hum
Haan karliya, order
jee karliya humne jurm-e-ulfat
Aankh roti rahi, haa roti rahi, par hans gayi kismat
Kal talak mai bhi mehfilon mein gaata tha
Phoolon se gulshan mera bhi saja karta tha
Aaj veeran ho gayi meri chaahat
Aankh roti rahi , haai roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Aaj koi sapna aankhon mein sajta nahi
Koie bhi rang dil ko bhaata nahi
Na jaan paya taqdeer ki taaqat
Aaankh roti rahi, haa roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Kal ho na ho iska nahi aitbaar
Kal ka ab mujhe nahi intezaar
Kahi se mil jaaye mujhko bhi raahat
Aaankh roti rahi , haa roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
Bahut bechain, eczema
bahut betaab hai hum;
Bahut bekaraar, surgeon
bahut talabgaar hai hum
Aaj ki raat neend nahi aayegi
Aaj ki raat karwaton mein guzar jaayegi,
Silwaton mein subah gin lenge murjhaaye hue khwaab,
Aaj ki raat to masalne mein guzar jaayegi
Hamari tishnagi ka koie dariya nahi
Hamari mushqilon ka koie zaria nahi
Subah roshni ki barsaat hogi magar,
Aaj ki raat to kale sehre mein jaayegi
Kyun bechain kyun betaab hai hum
Kyun bekaraar kyun talabgaar hai hum
Ik hasrat hai dil mein
Ik chaah zahan ki
Paak ke jaise ho duaayen
Khaalikh par usme gunaahon si
Dil ke daayaron ko baandh diya
Armaanon ki rawaani ko rok diya
Khwashiyon ko humne dafn kiya
Bas jee rah ik zindagi si
Bejaan ruh ki dhadkan si
Is liye bechain, is liye betaab hai hum
Is liye talabgaar, is liye bekaraar hai hum
Haan karliya, order
jee karliya humne jurm-e-ulfat
Aankh roti rahi, haa roti rahi, par hans gayi kismat
Kal talak mai bhi mehfilon mein gaata tha
Phoolon se gulshan mera bhi saja karta tha
Aaj veeran ho gayi meri chaahat
Aankh roti rahi , haai roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Aaj koi sapna aankhon mein sajta nahi
Koie bhi rang dil ko bhaata nahi
Na jaan paya taqdeer ki taaqat
Aaankh roti rahi, haa roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Kal ho na ho iska nahi aitbaar
Kal ka ab mujhe nahi intezaar
Kahi se mil jaaye mujhko bhi raahat
Aaankh roti rahi , haa roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Do kadam chalo to zara
Thaam ke haath mera
Bas yehi ab hai dua
Raho sang mere sada
Apni tanhaiyaiyon se
Apni hi parchchayon se, medical
Darta mai kitna raha
Chup main bahut raha
Mere geeton mein de diye, decease
Naye bol bas tumne,
Phir se mai jee utha
Phir se mai gaane laga
Bas yehi hai ab dua
Raho sang mere sada
Kitni masoom hai
Kitni gumsum hai
Teri ankhon mein
Itne kyun gam hai
Baant lun kuch mai bhi
Halka ho man tera bhi
Yeh dosti yaar nibhana
Ruswa ise na karna
Bas yehi hai ab dua
Raho sang mere sada
A writer in hibernation, online I can wake up any day to claim my rightful place in the written word’s cosmos. Till then, abortion I am content with this blog – which is, as the name suggests, a random expressions of what crosses my mind. I call this blog a one-stop shop for entertainment reading in its various dimensions, providing a little relief from your life’s daily rigmarole. The blog has stories, view points, opinions, travel related entries, general posts, reviews and of course, lots on Bollywood music and Lata Mangeshkar (a voice I am passionate about)!
Archives
I hope your experience at RE is fruitful. To access my previous posts, a good place to start is to visit the Comprehensive Archives Page which gives you the list of posts month-wise as well as the break up category-wise. There is a ‘search form’ available to enable you find the exact post you are looking for.
The comments on the posts are enabled, and it will give me a pleasure to know your views.
Contact
You can contact Random Expressions by using the contact form here
Announcements
You can join the announcement list (as given on the right hand side bar). Rest assured your email will remain confidential and will not be used other than sending out announcements from time to time. I hate spam more than any one could (esp. since I struggle quite a lot with it, both on this site and on my mails)
Donate
If you find the site useful and entertaining, please do make a nominal donation to help up-keep the site in its full beauty and form. You can help by clicking here.
Disclaimer
Comments are unmoderated and hence open to everyone. I take no risk or responsibility for them.
If you find some comment offensive or in bad taste then you may write to me. I will try to remove the same if I have time or feel they are really in bad taste. There is no guarantee for this.
So sit back, relax and enjoy! Happy Reading!
Deepak Jeswal
A writer in hibernation, online I can wake up any day to claim my rightful place in the written word’s cosmos. Till then, abortion I am content with this blog – which is, as the name suggests, a random expressions of what crosses my mind. I call this blog a one-stop shop for entertainment reading in its various dimensions, providing a little relief from your life’s daily rigmarole. The blog has stories, view points, opinions, travel related entries, general posts, reviews and of course, lots on Bollywood music and Lata Mangeshkar (a voice I am passionate about)!
Archives
I hope your experience at RE is fruitful. To access my previous posts, a good place to start is to visit the Comprehensive Archives Page which gives you the list of posts month-wise as well as the break up category-wise. There is a ‘search form’ available to enable you find the exact post you are looking for.
The comments on the posts are enabled, and it will give me a pleasure to know your views.
Contact
You can contact Random Expressions by using the contact form here
Announcements
You can join the announcement list (as given on the right hand side bar). Rest assured your email will remain confidential and will not be used other than sending out announcements from time to time. I hate spam more than any one could (esp. since I struggle quite a lot with it, both on this site and on my mails)
Donate
If you find the site useful and entertaining, please do make a nominal donation to help up-keep the site in its full beauty and form. You can help by clicking here.
Disclaimer
Comments are unmoderated and hence open to everyone. I take no risk or responsibility for them.
If you find some comment offensive or in bad taste then you may write to me. I will try to remove the same if I have time or feel they are really in bad taste. There is no guarantee for this.
So sit back, relax and enjoy! Happy Reading!
Deepak Jeswal
Music Review
It’s after listening to the film’s music I realised how much I missed Jatin-Lalit’s music. Sadly, look
this will be their swan song as a team, with both partners splitting up officially – quite a first in music industry; even though Shankar and Jaikishan were composing and interacting with producers separately some five-six years prior to Jaikishan’s untimely death, still they held to “S-J brand” very closely, so much so that Shankar did not allow the hyphen to go even when he was left alone by destiny’s chilling hand!
In mid-nineties JL were there right at the top – with two back-to-back musical bumper hits (DDLJ and Kuch Kuch Hota Hai) and several other hits (Pyar To Hona Hi Tha, Jab Pyar Kisise Hota Hai etc), they were sitting primly at the peak – till differences arose. Their last notable release was Hum Tum, from the same team as Fanaa.
Fanaa is a good farewell gift from the duo.
The most interesting point is to see Sunidhi Chauhan shedding off her ‘item girl’ image, an avatar she
momentarily slipped out of in Sur, but didn’t do much to later follow it up. In Fanaa, she gets to croon two soft numbers, of which ‘Tere haath mein mera haath ho’ is heart-meltingly effusive. To Sunidhi’s credit, she jumps at the opportunity with élan. The song embellished with some Kashmiri music has snippets of verses spoken by lead pair Aamir and Kajol, and Sonu Nigam gives pleasant company.
Her other duet (again with Sonu) Yeh saazish hai boondon ki (Dekho Na) is charming, sculpted with care and romance just like Hum Tum’s much appreciated title song.
It was ‘Chanda chamke’ that made me miss JL the most! The song is so typically JL that I really wish they would bury their differences and come together again. This song is based on alliterative tongue-twisters we all loved during our childhood. Singers are Babul Supriyo, Mahalaxmi and Master Akhay, with Aamir and Kajol again doing honors with a few words in between. Excellent interludes make it a lovable song.
Mahalaxmi’s solo ‘Des Rangila’, a patriotic song, is probably the only weakest link, yet in the reflective luminesce of other songs it shines.
My most favorite and undoubtedly the album’s best track is Shaan-Kailash Kher’s Chaand sifarish karta jo hamari. It’s a unique composition – the introduction is sort of ‘Balle balle on a Sunday’ riff(Bunty Aur Bubli) meets AR Rahman’s qawaali beats from Bombay (Kahne hi kya), to which is snitched just a sliver of Junoon’s electric guitar signature rhythm, and yet the song doesn’t look like some tattered hand-me down; primarily due to the excellent whistling theme music that takes over, and a tune which takes off on a wonderfully lip-friendly plane. The rhythm is awesome; and Shaan is perfectly in sync with the romantic mood! Even if you don’t plan to buy the album, don’t ever miss this song any which way! For this song itself, I would have given the below mentioned rating, but then the score has enough merit to claim its rightful share in music lover’s mind.
You can listen to songs online here.
Overall: A Good Buy!
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
Bahut bechain, eczema
bahut betaab hai hum;
Bahut bekaraar, surgeon
bahut talabgaar hai hum
Aaj ki raat neend nahi aayegi
Aaj ki raat karwaton mein guzar jaayegi,
Silwaton mein subah gin lenge murjhaaye hue khwaab,
Aaj ki raat to masalne mein guzar jaayegi
Hamari tishnagi ka koie dariya nahi
Hamari mushqilon ka koie zaria nahi
Subah roshni ki barsaat hogi magar,
Aaj ki raat to kale sehre mein jaayegi
Kyun bechain kyun betaab hai hum
Kyun bekaraar kyun talabgaar hai hum
Ik hasrat hai dil mein
Ik chaah zahan ki
Paak ke jaise ho duaayen
Khaalikh par usme gunaahon si
Dil ke daayaron ko baandh diya
Armaanon ki rawaani ko rok diya
Khwashiyon ko humne dafn kiya
Bas jee rah ik zindagi si
Bejaan ruh ki dhadkan si
Is liye bechain, is liye betaab hai hum
Is liye talabgaar, is liye bekaraar hai hum
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
Bahut bechain, eczema
bahut betaab hai hum;
Bahut bekaraar, surgeon
bahut talabgaar hai hum
Aaj ki raat neend nahi aayegi
Aaj ki raat karwaton mein guzar jaayegi,
Silwaton mein subah gin lenge murjhaaye hue khwaab,
Aaj ki raat to masalne mein guzar jaayegi
Hamari tishnagi ka koie dariya nahi
Hamari mushqilon ka koie zaria nahi
Subah roshni ki barsaat hogi magar,
Aaj ki raat to kale sehre mein jaayegi
Kyun bechain kyun betaab hai hum
Kyun bekaraar kyun talabgaar hai hum
Ik hasrat hai dil mein
Ik chaah zahan ki
Paak ke jaise ho duaayen
Khaalikh par usme gunaahon si
Dil ke daayaron ko baandh diya
Armaanon ki rawaani ko rok diya
Khwashiyon ko humne dafn kiya
Bas jee rah ik zindagi si
Bejaan ruh ki dhadkan si
Is liye bechain, is liye betaab hai hum
Is liye talabgaar, is liye bekaraar hai hum
Haan karliya, order
jee karliya humne jurm-e-ulfat
Aankh roti rahi, haa roti rahi, par hans gayi kismat
Kal talak mai bhi mehfilon mein gaata tha
Phoolon se gulshan mera bhi saja karta tha
Aaj veeran ho gayi meri chaahat
Aankh roti rahi , haai roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Aaj koi sapna aankhon mein sajta nahi
Koie bhi rang dil ko bhaata nahi
Na jaan paya taqdeer ki taaqat
Aaankh roti rahi, haa roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Kal ho na ho iska nahi aitbaar
Kal ka ab mujhe nahi intezaar
Kahi se mil jaaye mujhko bhi raahat
Aaankh roti rahi , haa roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
Bahut bechain, eczema
bahut betaab hai hum;
Bahut bekaraar, surgeon
bahut talabgaar hai hum
Aaj ki raat neend nahi aayegi
Aaj ki raat karwaton mein guzar jaayegi,
Silwaton mein subah gin lenge murjhaaye hue khwaab,
Aaj ki raat to masalne mein guzar jaayegi
Hamari tishnagi ka koie dariya nahi
Hamari mushqilon ka koie zaria nahi
Subah roshni ki barsaat hogi magar,
Aaj ki raat to kale sehre mein jaayegi
Kyun bechain kyun betaab hai hum
Kyun bekaraar kyun talabgaar hai hum
Ik hasrat hai dil mein
Ik chaah zahan ki
Paak ke jaise ho duaayen
Khaalikh par usme gunaahon si
Dil ke daayaron ko baandh diya
Armaanon ki rawaani ko rok diya
Khwashiyon ko humne dafn kiya
Bas jee rah ik zindagi si
Bejaan ruh ki dhadkan si
Is liye bechain, is liye betaab hai hum
Is liye talabgaar, is liye bekaraar hai hum
Haan karliya, order
jee karliya humne jurm-e-ulfat
Aankh roti rahi, haa roti rahi, par hans gayi kismat
Kal talak mai bhi mehfilon mein gaata tha
Phoolon se gulshan mera bhi saja karta tha
Aaj veeran ho gayi meri chaahat
Aankh roti rahi , haai roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Aaj koi sapna aankhon mein sajta nahi
Koie bhi rang dil ko bhaata nahi
Na jaan paya taqdeer ki taaqat
Aaankh roti rahi, haa roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Kal ho na ho iska nahi aitbaar
Kal ka ab mujhe nahi intezaar
Kahi se mil jaaye mujhko bhi raahat
Aaankh roti rahi , haa roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Do kadam chalo to zara
Thaam ke haath mera
Bas yehi ab hai dua
Raho sang mere sada
Apni tanhaiyaiyon se
Apni hi parchchayon se, medical
Darta mai kitna raha
Chup main bahut raha
Mere geeton mein de diye, decease
Naye bol bas tumne,
Phir se mai jee utha
Phir se mai gaane laga
Bas yehi hai ab dua
Raho sang mere sada
Kitni masoom hai
Kitni gumsum hai
Teri ankhon mein
Itne kyun gam hai
Baant lun kuch mai bhi
Halka ho man tera bhi
Yeh dosti yaar nibhana
Ruswa ise na karna
Bas yehi hai ab dua
Raho sang mere sada
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
Bahut bechain, eczema
bahut betaab hai hum;
Bahut bekaraar, surgeon
bahut talabgaar hai hum
Aaj ki raat neend nahi aayegi
Aaj ki raat karwaton mein guzar jaayegi,
Silwaton mein subah gin lenge murjhaaye hue khwaab,
Aaj ki raat to masalne mein guzar jaayegi
Hamari tishnagi ka koie dariya nahi
Hamari mushqilon ka koie zaria nahi
Subah roshni ki barsaat hogi magar,
Aaj ki raat to kale sehre mein jaayegi
Kyun bechain kyun betaab hai hum
Kyun bekaraar kyun talabgaar hai hum
Ik hasrat hai dil mein
Ik chaah zahan ki
Paak ke jaise ho duaayen
Khaalikh par usme gunaahon si
Dil ke daayaron ko baandh diya
Armaanon ki rawaani ko rok diya
Khwashiyon ko humne dafn kiya
Bas jee rah ik zindagi si
Bejaan ruh ki dhadkan si
Is liye bechain, is liye betaab hai hum
Is liye talabgaar, is liye bekaraar hai hum
Haan karliya, order
jee karliya humne jurm-e-ulfat
Aankh roti rahi, haa roti rahi, par hans gayi kismat
Kal talak mai bhi mehfilon mein gaata tha
Phoolon se gulshan mera bhi saja karta tha
Aaj veeran ho gayi meri chaahat
Aankh roti rahi , haai roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Aaj koi sapna aankhon mein sajta nahi
Koie bhi rang dil ko bhaata nahi
Na jaan paya taqdeer ki taaqat
Aaankh roti rahi, haa roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Kal ho na ho iska nahi aitbaar
Kal ka ab mujhe nahi intezaar
Kahi se mil jaaye mujhko bhi raahat
Aaankh roti rahi , haa roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Do kadam chalo to zara
Thaam ke haath mera
Bas yehi ab hai dua
Raho sang mere sada
Apni tanhaiyaiyon se
Apni hi parchchayon se, medical
Darta mai kitna raha
Chup main bahut raha
Mere geeton mein de diye, decease
Naye bol bas tumne,
Phir se mai jee utha
Phir se mai gaane laga
Bas yehi hai ab dua
Raho sang mere sada
Kitni masoom hai
Kitni gumsum hai
Teri ankhon mein
Itne kyun gam hai
Baant lun kuch mai bhi
Halka ho man tera bhi
Yeh dosti yaar nibhana
Ruswa ise na karna
Bas yehi hai ab dua
Raho sang mere sada
It’s been nearly a year and a half in Nepal but I haven’t ever had a haircut here. Now, buy more about
don’t be unduly shocked. For those who have seen me recently would vouchsafe that I do not carry kale lambe ghane reshmi tresses on my head – in fact, advice I don’t even flaunt hair long enough to match Hritik’s Mowgli inspired Krishh style (nor do I have the body to go alongwith it, but that’s a different story).
The reason for not trying Nepalese barbers is that, usually, I make once-a-month trip to Delhi, and get the needful done there, in comfortable and familiar surroundings. But during January’s trip I barely stayed home, hence did not get time at all. True, I had few hours in Mumbai, but then, I am confident Priyangini wouldn’t really have relished the idea of having a meet at a barber’s shop!
Thus, by first week February I was looking quite unruly. Also, long hair irritates – whether on my head, or someone else’s. I firmly believe a man looks best with short cropped hair (and inversely, a girl’s beauty is enhanced by her crowning glory). So before the matter got out of hand, I decided to do something about it.
Realisation hit me that I hadn’t seen many barbers here. There was a small cubby hole shop down the lane, which had on display a faded and torn Salman Khan poster from his Saajan days, and had kept on the dull-green mica counter, an archaic glass-and-long-winding-steel-water- spray- an item that even my Delhi’s neighborhood ‘naai’ had upgraded to a more fancy plastic ones; it’s original use is to water plants, I reckon!
No way was I going there, I resolved with a slight shudder.
On his last visit, my boss had pointed out to a corner shop in front of Radisson, asking about haircut rates here; at that time I had no clue. The shop belongs to the hotel, though it is not in the main premises. So, off I went there – twice! Both times it was closed. But today, thankfully the awful shutter was up and in I walked, praying that let it not be exorbitantly expensive. The counter man smiled and refused to take me in saying the shop was closed. At six pm!
My next destination was Hotel Annapurna – they have a shopping arcade adjacent to the main building. I recalled seeing some ‘barber’ signage there. Sure, it was there, and it was open – though the personnel gave same answer – ‘closing time’. I plonked myself on the sofa, gave a sweet smile and requested him to adjust me in today. Thankfully, he agreed.
And there began my perils!
I have nothing against garrulous barbers, but it’s just that I am not given to small talk. But this was something I hadn’t imagined.
He started off pointing at my graying hair. Probably, he would next ask me to dye my hair- a temptation which my Delhi barber still secretly hopes I would succumb to someday. Everytime I visit him, he picks a few hair strands, and drops them in disdain as if they are a filthy rag, and shake his head sorrowfully, “Tch tch tch, Bahut safed ho gaye hainâ€; his tone makes you feel as if it is Earth’s biggest calamity; and then, brightening up, he will go on to inform that current hair colors are even good for the hair. My response, as ever, is a soft smile but a firm no! ‘At least henna?’ he ventures hopefully. ‘We have lots of good herbal hennas.’ Hennas are always herbal, I wish to retort sometimes. But most likely, I slip into the comfortable chair and close off my eyes. That ends the discussion, and the rest goes off peacefully.
Anyways I am digressing. So, this one talked about bad diet, stomach ailment and all. Perplexed, I waited patiently for the catch to be sprung on me, while his hand moved dexterously on my mane. And then it came! The moot point: – there is a lovely organic fruit supplement that can cure anything. He was member of the company’s direct marketing team.
I maintained a stoic smile, but inwardly let out a loud groan. I am very wary of direct marketers – friends, who after the obligatory hellos, start off with virtues of ‘this awesome never-sold, never-found product’ (then why did you find it, my mind would scream); or eager acquaintances who thrust Tupperware catellogues under your nose as you struggle to sip your Coke with a straight face – these are people who I strike off my phone book the first.
I recall I had this friendly client – and during the negotiations his wife nearly kept my purchase of Tupperware as a ransom for the deal to go through. Thankfully, her husband was sensible, and moreover her greed for the new car prevailed over her salesmanship-spirit!
At another time, a friend’s friend had conspiratorially called me for a ‘striking business deal’. I agreed to check it out and ended up at Japan Life’s orientation meet at Kalkaji, Delhi. Japan Life sold (or probably, still sells) a unique magnetic mattress that guaranteed obliteration of any and every disease – and it was for ‘just Rs 70,000’! The deal was you buy that mattress, make three more members and the money shall start rolling in. Cool! After an impressive presentation, there were casual meets between various ‘uplines’ and ‘downlines’ – it all seemed so easy. Just a few more like you and you have cheques coming your way every month. You are your own boss, no office, no fixed routines -they lured.
Two girls, in low-waist jeans, talked excitedly – one piped about the next car she had booked – a grey Santro, the other vetoed it with a long squeaky drawl ‘Chhee, buy a yellow one!’ I nearly fainted but this one went on to mention an upcoming holiday in Mauritius.
With naivety, I heard their conversation; my salivating mind lapped up each word greedily. Yes, this was my calling – this was what I was always meant for. Easy money – luxurious holidays, swanky cars, trendy night-clubs and without any serious work, or best of all: – no slimy idiotic boss to report to! For sure, I was sold on to the idea. The only obstacle – I didn’t have the initial Rs 70,000! And my dad categorically refused to cough up his own for, what he felt, ‘an outrageously stupid idea’!
That was the end of that story.
Reluctantly my mind dissolved to the present. The burden on my head was lesser, but the one on my ear was still the same. It’s not a drug, it’s organic, it doesn’t have side effects, takes care of your liver and kidneys as well etc etc. One bottle was for NPR 1900, but of course there is a ten-percent discount if you buy immediately. There always is!
I looked at my reflection – my smile was still frozen from the time he had started off! I tried to sound interested, letting out a few ‘hmms’ at regular intervals. I always find such situations very sticky where some one is trying to sell an idea/deal/product enthusiastically, and I have the least interest for it!
However, in all this, hiis work was good and I was satisfied with the end-result.
As soon as he was finished, I sprang from the leather chair and paid the money. Till then he had only talked about the goodness of this American-Japanese joint product, reaching Nepal via Malaysia! But as he took the money he finally fired his final salvo, ‘So should I pack one for you?’
I mumbled something about being here only so will pick it up some other day and hurried out of the shop. No more here; I vowed to myself that next time it will be in Delhi only – even if it means getting the hair hennaed! At least it’s better and cheaper than being sold off some horrendously expensive tonic!
A writer in hibernation, online I can wake up any day to claim my rightful place in the written word’s cosmos. Till then, abortion I am content with this blog – which is, as the name suggests, a random expressions of what crosses my mind. I call this blog a one-stop shop for entertainment reading in its various dimensions, providing a little relief from your life’s daily rigmarole. The blog has stories, view points, opinions, travel related entries, general posts, reviews and of course, lots on Bollywood music and Lata Mangeshkar (a voice I am passionate about)!
Archives
I hope your experience at RE is fruitful. To access my previous posts, a good place to start is to visit the Comprehensive Archives Page which gives you the list of posts month-wise as well as the break up category-wise. There is a ‘search form’ available to enable you find the exact post you are looking for.
The comments on the posts are enabled, and it will give me a pleasure to know your views.
Contact
You can contact Random Expressions by using the contact form here
Announcements
You can join the announcement list (as given on the right hand side bar). Rest assured your email will remain confidential and will not be used other than sending out announcements from time to time. I hate spam more than any one could (esp. since I struggle quite a lot with it, both on this site and on my mails)
Donate
If you find the site useful and entertaining, please do make a nominal donation to help up-keep the site in its full beauty and form. You can help by clicking here.
Disclaimer
Comments are unmoderated and hence open to everyone. I take no risk or responsibility for them.
If you find some comment offensive or in bad taste then you may write to me. I will try to remove the same if I have time or feel they are really in bad taste. There is no guarantee for this.
So sit back, relax and enjoy! Happy Reading!
Deepak Jeswal
A writer in hibernation, online I can wake up any day to claim my rightful place in the written word’s cosmos. Till then, abortion I am content with this blog – which is, as the name suggests, a random expressions of what crosses my mind. I call this blog a one-stop shop for entertainment reading in its various dimensions, providing a little relief from your life’s daily rigmarole. The blog has stories, view points, opinions, travel related entries, general posts, reviews and of course, lots on Bollywood music and Lata Mangeshkar (a voice I am passionate about)!
Archives
I hope your experience at RE is fruitful. To access my previous posts, a good place to start is to visit the Comprehensive Archives Page which gives you the list of posts month-wise as well as the break up category-wise. There is a ‘search form’ available to enable you find the exact post you are looking for.
The comments on the posts are enabled, and it will give me a pleasure to know your views.
Contact
You can contact Random Expressions by using the contact form here
Announcements
You can join the announcement list (as given on the right hand side bar). Rest assured your email will remain confidential and will not be used other than sending out announcements from time to time. I hate spam more than any one could (esp. since I struggle quite a lot with it, both on this site and on my mails)
Donate
If you find the site useful and entertaining, please do make a nominal donation to help up-keep the site in its full beauty and form. You can help by clicking here.
Disclaimer
Comments are unmoderated and hence open to everyone. I take no risk or responsibility for them.
If you find some comment offensive or in bad taste then you may write to me. I will try to remove the same if I have time or feel they are really in bad taste. There is no guarantee for this.
So sit back, relax and enjoy! Happy Reading!
Deepak Jeswal
Music Review
It’s after listening to the film’s music I realised how much I missed Jatin-Lalit’s music. Sadly, look
this will be their swan song as a team, with both partners splitting up officially – quite a first in music industry; even though Shankar and Jaikishan were composing and interacting with producers separately some five-six years prior to Jaikishan’s untimely death, still they held to “S-J brand” very closely, so much so that Shankar did not allow the hyphen to go even when he was left alone by destiny’s chilling hand!
In mid-nineties JL were there right at the top – with two back-to-back musical bumper hits (DDLJ and Kuch Kuch Hota Hai) and several other hits (Pyar To Hona Hi Tha, Jab Pyar Kisise Hota Hai etc), they were sitting primly at the peak – till differences arose. Their last notable release was Hum Tum, from the same team as Fanaa.
Fanaa is a good farewell gift from the duo.
The most interesting point is to see Sunidhi Chauhan shedding off her ‘item girl’ image, an avatar she
momentarily slipped out of in Sur, but didn’t do much to later follow it up. In Fanaa, she gets to croon two soft numbers, of which ‘Tere haath mein mera haath ho’ is heart-meltingly effusive. To Sunidhi’s credit, she jumps at the opportunity with élan. The song embellished with some Kashmiri music has snippets of verses spoken by lead pair Aamir and Kajol, and Sonu Nigam gives pleasant company.
Her other duet (again with Sonu) Yeh saazish hai boondon ki (Dekho Na) is charming, sculpted with care and romance just like Hum Tum’s much appreciated title song.
It was ‘Chanda chamke’ that made me miss JL the most! The song is so typically JL that I really wish they would bury their differences and come together again. This song is based on alliterative tongue-twisters we all loved during our childhood. Singers are Babul Supriyo, Mahalaxmi and Master Akhay, with Aamir and Kajol again doing honors with a few words in between. Excellent interludes make it a lovable song.
Mahalaxmi’s solo ‘Des Rangila’, a patriotic song, is probably the only weakest link, yet in the reflective luminesce of other songs it shines.
My most favorite and undoubtedly the album’s best track is Shaan-Kailash Kher’s Chaand sifarish karta jo hamari. It’s a unique composition – the introduction is sort of ‘Balle balle on a Sunday’ riff(Bunty Aur Bubli) meets AR Rahman’s qawaali beats from Bombay (Kahne hi kya), to which is snitched just a sliver of Junoon’s electric guitar signature rhythm, and yet the song doesn’t look like some tattered hand-me down; primarily due to the excellent whistling theme music that takes over, and a tune which takes off on a wonderfully lip-friendly plane. The rhythm is awesome; and Shaan is perfectly in sync with the romantic mood! Even if you don’t plan to buy the album, don’t ever miss this song any which way! For this song itself, I would have given the below mentioned rating, but then the score has enough merit to claim its rightful share in music lover’s mind.
You can listen to songs online here.
Overall: A Good Buy!
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
Bahut bechain, eczema
bahut betaab hai hum;
Bahut bekaraar, surgeon
bahut talabgaar hai hum
Aaj ki raat neend nahi aayegi
Aaj ki raat karwaton mein guzar jaayegi,
Silwaton mein subah gin lenge murjhaaye hue khwaab,
Aaj ki raat to masalne mein guzar jaayegi
Hamari tishnagi ka koie dariya nahi
Hamari mushqilon ka koie zaria nahi
Subah roshni ki barsaat hogi magar,
Aaj ki raat to kale sehre mein jaayegi
Kyun bechain kyun betaab hai hum
Kyun bekaraar kyun talabgaar hai hum
Ik hasrat hai dil mein
Ik chaah zahan ki
Paak ke jaise ho duaayen
Khaalikh par usme gunaahon si
Dil ke daayaron ko baandh diya
Armaanon ki rawaani ko rok diya
Khwashiyon ko humne dafn kiya
Bas jee rah ik zindagi si
Bejaan ruh ki dhadkan si
Is liye bechain, is liye betaab hai hum
Is liye talabgaar, is liye bekaraar hai hum
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
Bahut bechain, eczema
bahut betaab hai hum;
Bahut bekaraar, surgeon
bahut talabgaar hai hum
Aaj ki raat neend nahi aayegi
Aaj ki raat karwaton mein guzar jaayegi,
Silwaton mein subah gin lenge murjhaaye hue khwaab,
Aaj ki raat to masalne mein guzar jaayegi
Hamari tishnagi ka koie dariya nahi
Hamari mushqilon ka koie zaria nahi
Subah roshni ki barsaat hogi magar,
Aaj ki raat to kale sehre mein jaayegi
Kyun bechain kyun betaab hai hum
Kyun bekaraar kyun talabgaar hai hum
Ik hasrat hai dil mein
Ik chaah zahan ki
Paak ke jaise ho duaayen
Khaalikh par usme gunaahon si
Dil ke daayaron ko baandh diya
Armaanon ki rawaani ko rok diya
Khwashiyon ko humne dafn kiya
Bas jee rah ik zindagi si
Bejaan ruh ki dhadkan si
Is liye bechain, is liye betaab hai hum
Is liye talabgaar, is liye bekaraar hai hum
Haan karliya, order
jee karliya humne jurm-e-ulfat
Aankh roti rahi, haa roti rahi, par hans gayi kismat
Kal talak mai bhi mehfilon mein gaata tha
Phoolon se gulshan mera bhi saja karta tha
Aaj veeran ho gayi meri chaahat
Aankh roti rahi , haai roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Aaj koi sapna aankhon mein sajta nahi
Koie bhi rang dil ko bhaata nahi
Na jaan paya taqdeer ki taaqat
Aaankh roti rahi, haa roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Kal ho na ho iska nahi aitbaar
Kal ka ab mujhe nahi intezaar
Kahi se mil jaaye mujhko bhi raahat
Aaankh roti rahi , haa roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
Bahut bechain, eczema
bahut betaab hai hum;
Bahut bekaraar, surgeon
bahut talabgaar hai hum
Aaj ki raat neend nahi aayegi
Aaj ki raat karwaton mein guzar jaayegi,
Silwaton mein subah gin lenge murjhaaye hue khwaab,
Aaj ki raat to masalne mein guzar jaayegi
Hamari tishnagi ka koie dariya nahi
Hamari mushqilon ka koie zaria nahi
Subah roshni ki barsaat hogi magar,
Aaj ki raat to kale sehre mein jaayegi
Kyun bechain kyun betaab hai hum
Kyun bekaraar kyun talabgaar hai hum
Ik hasrat hai dil mein
Ik chaah zahan ki
Paak ke jaise ho duaayen
Khaalikh par usme gunaahon si
Dil ke daayaron ko baandh diya
Armaanon ki rawaani ko rok diya
Khwashiyon ko humne dafn kiya
Bas jee rah ik zindagi si
Bejaan ruh ki dhadkan si
Is liye bechain, is liye betaab hai hum
Is liye talabgaar, is liye bekaraar hai hum
Haan karliya, order
jee karliya humne jurm-e-ulfat
Aankh roti rahi, haa roti rahi, par hans gayi kismat
Kal talak mai bhi mehfilon mein gaata tha
Phoolon se gulshan mera bhi saja karta tha
Aaj veeran ho gayi meri chaahat
Aankh roti rahi , haai roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Aaj koi sapna aankhon mein sajta nahi
Koie bhi rang dil ko bhaata nahi
Na jaan paya taqdeer ki taaqat
Aaankh roti rahi, haa roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Kal ho na ho iska nahi aitbaar
Kal ka ab mujhe nahi intezaar
Kahi se mil jaaye mujhko bhi raahat
Aaankh roti rahi , haa roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Do kadam chalo to zara
Thaam ke haath mera
Bas yehi ab hai dua
Raho sang mere sada
Apni tanhaiyaiyon se
Apni hi parchchayon se, medical
Darta mai kitna raha
Chup main bahut raha
Mere geeton mein de diye, decease
Naye bol bas tumne,
Phir se mai jee utha
Phir se mai gaane laga
Bas yehi hai ab dua
Raho sang mere sada
Kitni masoom hai
Kitni gumsum hai
Teri ankhon mein
Itne kyun gam hai
Baant lun kuch mai bhi
Halka ho man tera bhi
Yeh dosti yaar nibhana
Ruswa ise na karna
Bas yehi hai ab dua
Raho sang mere sada
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
Bahut bechain, eczema
bahut betaab hai hum;
Bahut bekaraar, surgeon
bahut talabgaar hai hum
Aaj ki raat neend nahi aayegi
Aaj ki raat karwaton mein guzar jaayegi,
Silwaton mein subah gin lenge murjhaaye hue khwaab,
Aaj ki raat to masalne mein guzar jaayegi
Hamari tishnagi ka koie dariya nahi
Hamari mushqilon ka koie zaria nahi
Subah roshni ki barsaat hogi magar,
Aaj ki raat to kale sehre mein jaayegi
Kyun bechain kyun betaab hai hum
Kyun bekaraar kyun talabgaar hai hum
Ik hasrat hai dil mein
Ik chaah zahan ki
Paak ke jaise ho duaayen
Khaalikh par usme gunaahon si
Dil ke daayaron ko baandh diya
Armaanon ki rawaani ko rok diya
Khwashiyon ko humne dafn kiya
Bas jee rah ik zindagi si
Bejaan ruh ki dhadkan si
Is liye bechain, is liye betaab hai hum
Is liye talabgaar, is liye bekaraar hai hum
Haan karliya, order
jee karliya humne jurm-e-ulfat
Aankh roti rahi, haa roti rahi, par hans gayi kismat
Kal talak mai bhi mehfilon mein gaata tha
Phoolon se gulshan mera bhi saja karta tha
Aaj veeran ho gayi meri chaahat
Aankh roti rahi , haai roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Aaj koi sapna aankhon mein sajta nahi
Koie bhi rang dil ko bhaata nahi
Na jaan paya taqdeer ki taaqat
Aaankh roti rahi, haa roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Kal ho na ho iska nahi aitbaar
Kal ka ab mujhe nahi intezaar
Kahi se mil jaaye mujhko bhi raahat
Aaankh roti rahi , haa roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Do kadam chalo to zara
Thaam ke haath mera
Bas yehi ab hai dua
Raho sang mere sada
Apni tanhaiyaiyon se
Apni hi parchchayon se, medical
Darta mai kitna raha
Chup main bahut raha
Mere geeton mein de diye, decease
Naye bol bas tumne,
Phir se mai jee utha
Phir se mai gaane laga
Bas yehi hai ab dua
Raho sang mere sada
Kitni masoom hai
Kitni gumsum hai
Teri ankhon mein
Itne kyun gam hai
Baant lun kuch mai bhi
Halka ho man tera bhi
Yeh dosti yaar nibhana
Ruswa ise na karna
Bas yehi hai ab dua
Raho sang mere sada
It’s been nearly a year and a half in Nepal but I haven’t ever had a haircut here. Now, buy more about
don’t be unduly shocked. For those who have seen me recently would vouchsafe that I do not carry kale lambe ghane reshmi tresses on my head – in fact, advice I don’t even flaunt hair long enough to match Hritik’s Mowgli inspired Krishh style (nor do I have the body to go alongwith it, but that’s a different story).
The reason for not trying Nepalese barbers is that, usually, I make once-a-month trip to Delhi, and get the needful done there, in comfortable and familiar surroundings. But during January’s trip I barely stayed home, hence did not get time at all. True, I had few hours in Mumbai, but then, I am confident Priyangini wouldn’t really have relished the idea of having a meet at a barber’s shop!
Thus, by first week February I was looking quite unruly. Also, long hair irritates – whether on my head, or someone else’s. I firmly believe a man looks best with short cropped hair (and inversely, a girl’s beauty is enhanced by her crowning glory). So before the matter got out of hand, I decided to do something about it.
Realisation hit me that I hadn’t seen many barbers here. There was a small cubby hole shop down the lane, which had on display a faded and torn Salman Khan poster from his Saajan days, and had kept on the dull-green mica counter, an archaic glass-and-long-winding-steel-water- spray- an item that even my Delhi’s neighborhood ‘naai’ had upgraded to a more fancy plastic ones; it’s original use is to water plants, I reckon!
No way was I going there, I resolved with a slight shudder.
On his last visit, my boss had pointed out to a corner shop in front of Radisson, asking about haircut rates here; at that time I had no clue. The shop belongs to the hotel, though it is not in the main premises. So, off I went there – twice! Both times it was closed. But today, thankfully the awful shutter was up and in I walked, praying that let it not be exorbitantly expensive. The counter man smiled and refused to take me in saying the shop was closed. At six pm!
My next destination was Hotel Annapurna – they have a shopping arcade adjacent to the main building. I recalled seeing some ‘barber’ signage there. Sure, it was there, and it was open – though the personnel gave same answer – ‘closing time’. I plonked myself on the sofa, gave a sweet smile and requested him to adjust me in today. Thankfully, he agreed.
And there began my perils!
I have nothing against garrulous barbers, but it’s just that I am not given to small talk. But this was something I hadn’t imagined.
He started off pointing at my graying hair. Probably, he would next ask me to dye my hair- a temptation which my Delhi barber still secretly hopes I would succumb to someday. Everytime I visit him, he picks a few hair strands, and drops them in disdain as if they are a filthy rag, and shake his head sorrowfully, “Tch tch tch, Bahut safed ho gaye hainâ€; his tone makes you feel as if it is Earth’s biggest calamity; and then, brightening up, he will go on to inform that current hair colors are even good for the hair. My response, as ever, is a soft smile but a firm no! ‘At least henna?’ he ventures hopefully. ‘We have lots of good herbal hennas.’ Hennas are always herbal, I wish to retort sometimes. But most likely, I slip into the comfortable chair and close off my eyes. That ends the discussion, and the rest goes off peacefully.
Anyways I am digressing. So, this one talked about bad diet, stomach ailment and all. Perplexed, I waited patiently for the catch to be sprung on me, while his hand moved dexterously on my mane. And then it came! The moot point: – there is a lovely organic fruit supplement that can cure anything. He was member of the company’s direct marketing team.
I maintained a stoic smile, but inwardly let out a loud groan. I am very wary of direct marketers – friends, who after the obligatory hellos, start off with virtues of ‘this awesome never-sold, never-found product’ (then why did you find it, my mind would scream); or eager acquaintances who thrust Tupperware catellogues under your nose as you struggle to sip your Coke with a straight face – these are people who I strike off my phone book the first.
I recall I had this friendly client – and during the negotiations his wife nearly kept my purchase of Tupperware as a ransom for the deal to go through. Thankfully, her husband was sensible, and moreover her greed for the new car prevailed over her salesmanship-spirit!
At another time, a friend’s friend had conspiratorially called me for a ‘striking business deal’. I agreed to check it out and ended up at Japan Life’s orientation meet at Kalkaji, Delhi. Japan Life sold (or probably, still sells) a unique magnetic mattress that guaranteed obliteration of any and every disease – and it was for ‘just Rs 70,000’! The deal was you buy that mattress, make three more members and the money shall start rolling in. Cool! After an impressive presentation, there were casual meets between various ‘uplines’ and ‘downlines’ – it all seemed so easy. Just a few more like you and you have cheques coming your way every month. You are your own boss, no office, no fixed routines -they lured.
Two girls, in low-waist jeans, talked excitedly – one piped about the next car she had booked – a grey Santro, the other vetoed it with a long squeaky drawl ‘Chhee, buy a yellow one!’ I nearly fainted but this one went on to mention an upcoming holiday in Mauritius.
With naivety, I heard their conversation; my salivating mind lapped up each word greedily. Yes, this was my calling – this was what I was always meant for. Easy money – luxurious holidays, swanky cars, trendy night-clubs and without any serious work, or best of all: – no slimy idiotic boss to report to! For sure, I was sold on to the idea. The only obstacle – I didn’t have the initial Rs 70,000! And my dad categorically refused to cough up his own for, what he felt, ‘an outrageously stupid idea’!
That was the end of that story.
Reluctantly my mind dissolved to the present. The burden on my head was lesser, but the one on my ear was still the same. It’s not a drug, it’s organic, it doesn’t have side effects, takes care of your liver and kidneys as well etc etc. One bottle was for NPR 1900, but of course there is a ten-percent discount if you buy immediately. There always is!
I looked at my reflection – my smile was still frozen from the time he had started off! I tried to sound interested, letting out a few ‘hmms’ at regular intervals. I always find such situations very sticky where some one is trying to sell an idea/deal/product enthusiastically, and I have the least interest for it!
However, in all this, hiis work was good and I was satisfied with the end-result.
As soon as he was finished, I sprang from the leather chair and paid the money. Till then he had only talked about the goodness of this American-Japanese joint product, reaching Nepal via Malaysia! But as he took the money he finally fired his final salvo, ‘So should I pack one for you?’
I mumbled something about being here only so will pick it up some other day and hurried out of the shop. No more here; I vowed to myself that next time it will be in Delhi only – even if it means getting the hair hennaed! At least it’s better and cheaper than being sold off some horrendously expensive tonic!
I haven’t really written much poetry. But in the following pages, healing you can find some Hindi stuff; would classify them more as ‘songs’ than poems!
Enjoy!
Bahut bechain, eczema
bahut betaab hai hum;
Bahut bekaraar, surgeon
bahut talabgaar hai hum
Aaj ki raat neend nahi aayegi
Aaj ki raat karwaton mein guzar jaayegi,
Silwaton mein subah gin lenge murjhaaye hue khwaab,
Aaj ki raat to masalne mein guzar jaayegi
Hamari tishnagi ka koie dariya nahi
Hamari mushqilon ka koie zaria nahi
Subah roshni ki barsaat hogi magar,
Aaj ki raat to kale sehre mein jaayegi
Kyun bechain kyun betaab hai hum
Kyun bekaraar kyun talabgaar hai hum
Ik hasrat hai dil mein
Ik chaah zahan ki
Paak ke jaise ho duaayen
Khaalikh par usme gunaahon si
Dil ke daayaron ko baandh diya
Armaanon ki rawaani ko rok diya
Khwashiyon ko humne dafn kiya
Bas jee rah ik zindagi si
Bejaan ruh ki dhadkan si
Is liye bechain, is liye betaab hai hum
Is liye talabgaar, is liye bekaraar hai hum
Haan karliya, order
jee karliya humne jurm-e-ulfat
Aankh roti rahi, haa roti rahi, par hans gayi kismat
Kal talak mai bhi mehfilon mein gaata tha
Phoolon se gulshan mera bhi saja karta tha
Aaj veeran ho gayi meri chaahat
Aankh roti rahi , haai roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Aaj koi sapna aankhon mein sajta nahi
Koie bhi rang dil ko bhaata nahi
Na jaan paya taqdeer ki taaqat
Aaankh roti rahi, haa roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Kal ho na ho iska nahi aitbaar
Kal ka ab mujhe nahi intezaar
Kahi se mil jaaye mujhko bhi raahat
Aaankh roti rahi , haa roti rahi par hans gayi kismat
Do kadam chalo to zara
Thaam ke haath mera
Bas yehi ab hai dua
Raho sang mere sada
Apni tanhaiyaiyon se
Apni hi parchchayon se, medical
Darta mai kitna raha
Chup main bahut raha
Mere geeton mein de diye, decease
Naye bol bas tumne,
Phir se mai jee utha
Phir se mai gaane laga
Bas yehi hai ab dua
Raho sang mere sada
Kitni masoom hai
Kitni gumsum hai
Teri ankhon mein
Itne kyun gam hai
Baant lun kuch mai bhi
Halka ho man tera bhi
Yeh dosti yaar nibhana
Ruswa ise na karna
Bas yehi hai ab dua
Raho sang mere sada
It’s been nearly a year and a half in Nepal but I haven’t ever had a haircut here. Now, buy more about
don’t be unduly shocked. For those who have seen me recently would vouchsafe that I do not carry kale lambe ghane reshmi tresses on my head – in fact, advice I don’t even flaunt hair long enough to match Hritik’s Mowgli inspired Krishh style (nor do I have the body to go alongwith it, but that’s a different story).
The reason for not trying Nepalese barbers is that, usually, I make once-a-month trip to Delhi, and get the needful done there, in comfortable and familiar surroundings. But during January’s trip I barely stayed home, hence did not get time at all. True, I had few hours in Mumbai, but then, I am confident Priyangini wouldn’t really have relished the idea of having a meet at a barber’s shop!
Thus, by first week February I was looking quite unruly. Also, long hair irritates – whether on my head, or someone else’s. I firmly believe a man looks best with short cropped hair (and inversely, a girl’s beauty is enhanced by her crowning glory). So before the matter got out of hand, I decided to do something about it.
Realisation hit me that I hadn’t seen many barbers here. There was a small cubby hole shop down the lane, which had on display a faded and torn Salman Khan poster from his Saajan days, and had kept on the dull-green mica counter, an archaic glass-and-long-winding-steel-water- spray- an item that even my Delhi’s neighborhood ‘naai’ had upgraded to a more fancy plastic ones; it’s original use is to water plants, I reckon!
No way was I going there, I resolved with a slight shudder.
On his last visit, my boss had pointed out to a corner shop in front of Radisson, asking about haircut rates here; at that time I had no clue. The shop belongs to the hotel, though it is not in the main premises. So, off I went there – twice! Both times it was closed. But today, thankfully the awful shutter was up and in I walked, praying that let it not be exorbitantly expensive. The counter man smiled and refused to take me in saying the shop was closed. At six pm!
My next destination was Hotel Annapurna – they have a shopping arcade adjacent to the main building. I recalled seeing some ‘barber’ signage there. Sure, it was there, and it was open – though the personnel gave same answer – ‘closing time’. I plonked myself on the sofa, gave a sweet smile and requested him to adjust me in today. Thankfully, he agreed.
And there began my perils!
I have nothing against garrulous barbers, but it’s just that I am not given to small talk. But this was something I hadn’t imagined.
He started off pointing at my graying hair. Probably, he would next ask me to dye my hair- a temptation which my Delhi barber still secretly hopes I would succumb to someday. Everytime I visit him, he picks a few hair strands, and drops them in disdain as if they are a filthy rag, and shake his head sorrowfully, “Tch tch tch, Bahut safed ho gaye hainâ€; his tone makes you feel as if it is Earth’s biggest calamity; and then, brightening up, he will go on to inform that current hair colors are even good for the hair. My response, as ever, is a soft smile but a firm no! ‘At least henna?’ he ventures hopefully. ‘We have lots of good herbal hennas.’ Hennas are always herbal, I wish to retort sometimes. But most likely, I slip into the comfortable chair and close off my eyes. That ends the discussion, and the rest goes off peacefully.
Anyways I am digressing. So, this one talked about bad diet, stomach ailment and all. Perplexed, I waited patiently for the catch to be sprung on me, while his hand moved dexterously on my mane. And then it came! The moot point: – there is a lovely organic fruit supplement that can cure anything. He was member of the company’s direct marketing team.
I maintained a stoic smile, but inwardly let out a loud groan. I am very wary of direct marketers – friends, who after the obligatory hellos, start off with virtues of ‘this awesome never-sold, never-found product’ (then why did you find it, my mind would scream); or eager acquaintances who thrust Tupperware catellogues under your nose as you struggle to sip your Coke with a straight face – these are people who I strike off my phone book the first.
I recall I had this friendly client – and during the negotiations his wife nearly kept my purchase of Tupperware as a ransom for the deal to go through. Thankfully, her husband was sensible, and moreover her greed for the new car prevailed over her salesmanship-spirit!
At another time, a friend’s friend had conspiratorially called me for a ‘striking business deal’. I agreed to check it out and ended up at Japan Life’s orientation meet at Kalkaji, Delhi. Japan Life sold (or probably, still sells) a unique magnetic mattress that guaranteed obliteration of any and every disease – and it was for ‘just Rs 70,000’! The deal was you buy that mattress, make three more members and the money shall start rolling in. Cool! After an impressive presentation, there were casual meets between various ‘uplines’ and ‘downlines’ – it all seemed so easy. Just a few more like you and you have cheques coming your way every month. You are your own boss, no office, no fixed routines -they lured.
Two girls, in low-waist jeans, talked excitedly – one piped about the next car she had booked – a grey Santro, the other vetoed it with a long squeaky drawl ‘Chhee, buy a yellow one!’ I nearly fainted but this one went on to mention an upcoming holiday in Mauritius.
With naivety, I heard their conversation; my salivating mind lapped up each word greedily. Yes, this was my calling – this was what I was always meant for. Easy money – luxurious holidays, swanky cars, trendy night-clubs and without any serious work, or best of all: – no slimy idiotic boss to report to! For sure, I was sold on to the idea. The only obstacle – I didn’t have the initial Rs 70,000! And my dad categorically refused to cough up his own for, what he felt, ‘an outrageously stupid idea’!
That was the end of that story.
Reluctantly my mind dissolved to the present. The burden on my head was lesser, but the one on my ear was still the same. It’s not a drug, it’s organic, it doesn’t have side effects, takes care of your liver and kidneys as well etc etc. One bottle was for NPR 1900, but of course there is a ten-percent discount if you buy immediately. There always is!
I looked at my reflection – my smile was still frozen from the time he had started off! I tried to sound interested, letting out a few ‘hmms’ at regular intervals. I always find such situations very sticky where some one is trying to sell an idea/deal/product enthusiastically, and I have the least interest for it!
However, in all this, hiis work was good and I was satisfied with the end-result.
As soon as he was finished, I sprang from the leather chair and paid the money. Till then he had only talked about the goodness of this American-Japanese joint product, reaching Nepal via Malaysia! But as he took the money he finally fired his final salvo, ‘So should I pack one for you?’
I mumbled something about being here only so will pick it up some other day and hurried out of the shop. No more here; I vowed to myself that next time it will be in Delhi only – even if it means getting the hair hennaed! At least it’s better and cheaper than being sold off some horrendously expensive tonic!
Kisse Karen shikayet
Kisse Karen shikwa
Duniya mein kaun hai apna
Hai raaste to kitne
Par manzil ek nahin
Jahan dam toote wo manzil hai kahan
Kisse kare shikayat……
Kaanto ki dukano par
Bikte nahi phool, story
Par chukane hai karz phoolon ke yahan
Kisse kare shikayat…..
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
Powered by Zoundry
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
Powered by Zoundry
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
Powered by Zoundry
I admit I am not too well versed in Kalpana Lajmi’s cinema, this web
and haven’t watched any of her films barring the refreshingly honest Ek Pal. My association with her is restricted to Lata Mangeshkar’s extremely eloquent ‘Dil Hoom Hoom Kare’ from Rudaali. Hence, sick
I approached Chingaari with an open mind, and to say it left me cold is a major understatement.
Chingaari is one of those B-and-C-grade films masquerading as an art film. It is a puerile and pathetic piece of cinema that has neither the content nor flow to captivate audiences. It seems Lajmi’s intention was to shock and sensationalise the audience without any care for aesthetics or form.
The story is set in a typical North Indian village, Rangpur which has a designated red light area called Lal Batti (how unimaginative!). The gullible villagers are firmly held in tight clutches of the evil head-priest Bhuvan Panda (Mithun Chakraborty), who abuses his authority for own selfish motives. He keeps them involved in meaningless religious mumbo-jumbos instigating fear in their heart to retain his superiority over them. He uses illogical rites like making a naked virgin girl sit on his lap, while he places himself over a corpse, in order to exorcise the dead man’s evil spirit! Even though he berates prostitutes, resorting to physical and verbal abuse even if they so much as touch the Goddess’ idol inadvertently, still he has no qualms in spending the nights at their place – practicing wild, kinky and sadist sex!
One such prostitute is Basanti (Sushmita Sen), who lives with her daughter Titli, and ekes out her living in that deplorable condition.
In this murky environment enters the fresh, educated and young postman Chandan Mishra (Anuj Sawhney). Like any villager postman, he not only delivers letters, but reads them out and writes for them, and in a sense he becomes a confidante, friend and mentor to them. An unstated, muted and sublime love develops between Chadan and Basanti, cemented by his affection for the latter’s fatherless daughter! He also instigates revolt against Bhuvan Panda.
No doubt the love story between the postman and the prostitute (incidentally, the film’s original title as well) is good, and could have been a classy saga of romance, sacrifice and valor. Unfortunately, Lajmi seems to have seen too many Neha Dhupia flicks of late, hence it ends up being a loud, crass and disgusting melodrama.
The narrative moves in jerks and fits, and the screenplay is shoddy. There is no continuum in the movement, and several unwanted scenes are repetitive or too lengthy for comfort; the running time is also inordinately long; looks as if the editor just did not know his job. Sequences where the prostitutes are interacting are gross. Sushmita’s introduction scene where she instigates two colleagues fighting over a customer and urges them to use words like ‘randi’ and ‘chinaal’ is horrible.
The dialogues are crappy, peppered liberally with obscenities and profanities and are written only to evoke shock value. The climax is hilarious – Sushmita goes to the village temple with her hair flying wild, drums beating and picks up a trishul and kills Bhuvan Panda – it’s straight from those forgettable mid-eighties dacoit/revenge dramas that had infested Bollywood that time!
Production value is shoddy and camera work is tacky. The music (by Adesh Srivastava) is nothing to write home (or anywhere) about.
Sushmita Sen gives a relatively good performance, though she appears too urban to pass off as a rustic prostitute convincingly. Anuj Sawhney is adequate. But Mithun Chakraborty is too tired and haggard! Ila Arun, as the red light area’s head-madame, is ok.
The film does nothing to sensitize against the prostitute’s plight; nor does it help to lay spotlight on interior
India’s woeful condition. In the end, it’s not even good cinema. This chingaari fizzles out without lighting any fire. I hope Lajmi drops the ‘neice of Guru Dutt’ tag for the time being till she returns with a more meaningful and involving film!
Overall: Avoid
Side Notes
While on prostitutes, I read the following somewhere: during the shoot of Kalyug abroad, Deepal Shaw was mistaken for a whore by another one from the tribe there! Despite liking Shaw in that film, my overall impression of her is that – to put it very bluntly – she looks like a slut! Her music videos are largely responsible for giving that image. In the write-up that I read, Shaw narrated this incident with obvious glee. I don’t know about her, but if I were in her place, I would have taken serious offence and not publicize this fact and, more importantly, do some serious introspection!
Secondly, who is that goddamn singer who has screeched ‘Aa darr ke marr’ from Darna Zaroori Hai! It’s the most irritating, grating and awful voice I have heard in recent times. If the brief given to her was to sound sexy and scary at the same time, she has got it widely wrong! Why does Ram Gopal Verma waste money and time in recording songs which no one is going to buy? Stardust (April 2006) carries a piece on Verma’s deteriorating position in the industry. Though Stardust in itself is a gossip magazine, but still some facts are true and cannot be ignored – his films (except Sarkar) have all flopped, his proteges are deserting him and his financers are distancing themselves.
Hope Darna Zaroori Hai bails him out. I liked the first part (Darna Marna Hai) and am eagerly awaiting the release of the second one now!
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
Powered by Zoundry
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
Powered by Zoundry
I admit I am not too well versed in Kalpana Lajmi’s cinema, this web
and haven’t watched any of her films barring the refreshingly honest Ek Pal. My association with her is restricted to Lata Mangeshkar’s extremely eloquent ‘Dil Hoom Hoom Kare’ from Rudaali. Hence, sick
I approached Chingaari with an open mind, and to say it left me cold is a major understatement.
Chingaari is one of those B-and-C-grade films masquerading as an art film. It is a puerile and pathetic piece of cinema that has neither the content nor flow to captivate audiences. It seems Lajmi’s intention was to shock and sensationalise the audience without any care for aesthetics or form.
The story is set in a typical North Indian village, Rangpur which has a designated red light area called Lal Batti (how unimaginative!). The gullible villagers are firmly held in tight clutches of the evil head-priest Bhuvan Panda (Mithun Chakraborty), who abuses his authority for own selfish motives. He keeps them involved in meaningless religious mumbo-jumbos instigating fear in their heart to retain his superiority over them. He uses illogical rites like making a naked virgin girl sit on his lap, while he places himself over a corpse, in order to exorcise the dead man’s evil spirit! Even though he berates prostitutes, resorting to physical and verbal abuse even if they so much as touch the Goddess’ idol inadvertently, still he has no qualms in spending the nights at their place – practicing wild, kinky and sadist sex!
One such prostitute is Basanti (Sushmita Sen), who lives with her daughter Titli, and ekes out her living in that deplorable condition.
In this murky environment enters the fresh, educated and young postman Chandan Mishra (Anuj Sawhney). Like any villager postman, he not only delivers letters, but reads them out and writes for them, and in a sense he becomes a confidante, friend and mentor to them. An unstated, muted and sublime love develops between Chadan and Basanti, cemented by his affection for the latter’s fatherless daughter! He also instigates revolt against Bhuvan Panda.
No doubt the love story between the postman and the prostitute (incidentally, the film’s original title as well) is good, and could have been a classy saga of romance, sacrifice and valor. Unfortunately, Lajmi seems to have seen too many Neha Dhupia flicks of late, hence it ends up being a loud, crass and disgusting melodrama.
The narrative moves in jerks and fits, and the screenplay is shoddy. There is no continuum in the movement, and several unwanted scenes are repetitive or too lengthy for comfort; the running time is also inordinately long; looks as if the editor just did not know his job. Sequences where the prostitutes are interacting are gross. Sushmita’s introduction scene where she instigates two colleagues fighting over a customer and urges them to use words like ‘randi’ and ‘chinaal’ is horrible.
The dialogues are crappy, peppered liberally with obscenities and profanities and are written only to evoke shock value. The climax is hilarious – Sushmita goes to the village temple with her hair flying wild, drums beating and picks up a trishul and kills Bhuvan Panda – it’s straight from those forgettable mid-eighties dacoit/revenge dramas that had infested Bollywood that time!
Production value is shoddy and camera work is tacky. The music (by Adesh Srivastava) is nothing to write home (or anywhere) about.
Sushmita Sen gives a relatively good performance, though she appears too urban to pass off as a rustic prostitute convincingly. Anuj Sawhney is adequate. But Mithun Chakraborty is too tired and haggard! Ila Arun, as the red light area’s head-madame, is ok.
The film does nothing to sensitize against the prostitute’s plight; nor does it help to lay spotlight on interior
India’s woeful condition. In the end, it’s not even good cinema. This chingaari fizzles out without lighting any fire. I hope Lajmi drops the ‘neice of Guru Dutt’ tag for the time being till she returns with a more meaningful and involving film!
Overall: Avoid
Side Notes
While on prostitutes, I read the following somewhere: during the shoot of Kalyug abroad, Deepal Shaw was mistaken for a whore by another one from the tribe there! Despite liking Shaw in that film, my overall impression of her is that – to put it very bluntly – she looks like a slut! Her music videos are largely responsible for giving that image. In the write-up that I read, Shaw narrated this incident with obvious glee. I don’t know about her, but if I were in her place, I would have taken serious offence and not publicize this fact and, more importantly, do some serious introspection!
Secondly, who is that goddamn singer who has screeched ‘Aa darr ke marr’ from Darna Zaroori Hai! It’s the most irritating, grating and awful voice I have heard in recent times. If the brief given to her was to sound sexy and scary at the same time, she has got it widely wrong! Why does Ram Gopal Verma waste money and time in recording songs which no one is going to buy? Stardust (April 2006) carries a piece on Verma’s deteriorating position in the industry. Though Stardust in itself is a gossip magazine, but still some facts are true and cannot be ignored – his films (except Sarkar) have all flopped, his proteges are deserting him and his financers are distancing themselves.
Hope Darna Zaroori Hai bails him out. I liked the first part (Darna Marna Hai) and am eagerly awaiting the release of the second one now!
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
Powered by Zoundry
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
Powered by Zoundry
I admit I am not too well versed in Kalpana Lajmi’s cinema, this web
and haven’t watched any of her films barring the refreshingly honest Ek Pal. My association with her is restricted to Lata Mangeshkar’s extremely eloquent ‘Dil Hoom Hoom Kare’ from Rudaali. Hence, sick
I approached Chingaari with an open mind, and to say it left me cold is a major understatement.
Chingaari is one of those B-and-C-grade films masquerading as an art film. It is a puerile and pathetic piece of cinema that has neither the content nor flow to captivate audiences. It seems Lajmi’s intention was to shock and sensationalise the audience without any care for aesthetics or form.
The story is set in a typical North Indian village, Rangpur which has a designated red light area called Lal Batti (how unimaginative!). The gullible villagers are firmly held in tight clutches of the evil head-priest Bhuvan Panda (Mithun Chakraborty), who abuses his authority for own selfish motives. He keeps them involved in meaningless religious mumbo-jumbos instigating fear in their heart to retain his superiority over them. He uses illogical rites like making a naked virgin girl sit on his lap, while he places himself over a corpse, in order to exorcise the dead man’s evil spirit! Even though he berates prostitutes, resorting to physical and verbal abuse even if they so much as touch the Goddess’ idol inadvertently, still he has no qualms in spending the nights at their place – practicing wild, kinky and sadist sex!
One such prostitute is Basanti (Sushmita Sen), who lives with her daughter Titli, and ekes out her living in that deplorable condition.
In this murky environment enters the fresh, educated and young postman Chandan Mishra (Anuj Sawhney). Like any villager postman, he not only delivers letters, but reads them out and writes for them, and in a sense he becomes a confidante, friend and mentor to them. An unstated, muted and sublime love develops between Chadan and Basanti, cemented by his affection for the latter’s fatherless daughter! He also instigates revolt against Bhuvan Panda.
No doubt the love story between the postman and the prostitute (incidentally, the film’s original title as well) is good, and could have been a classy saga of romance, sacrifice and valor. Unfortunately, Lajmi seems to have seen too many Neha Dhupia flicks of late, hence it ends up being a loud, crass and disgusting melodrama.
The narrative moves in jerks and fits, and the screenplay is shoddy. There is no continuum in the movement, and several unwanted scenes are repetitive or too lengthy for comfort; the running time is also inordinately long; looks as if the editor just did not know his job. Sequences where the prostitutes are interacting are gross. Sushmita’s introduction scene where she instigates two colleagues fighting over a customer and urges them to use words like ‘randi’ and ‘chinaal’ is horrible.
The dialogues are crappy, peppered liberally with obscenities and profanities and are written only to evoke shock value. The climax is hilarious – Sushmita goes to the village temple with her hair flying wild, drums beating and picks up a trishul and kills Bhuvan Panda – it’s straight from those forgettable mid-eighties dacoit/revenge dramas that had infested Bollywood that time!
Production value is shoddy and camera work is tacky. The music (by Adesh Srivastava) is nothing to write home (or anywhere) about.
Sushmita Sen gives a relatively good performance, though she appears too urban to pass off as a rustic prostitute convincingly. Anuj Sawhney is adequate. But Mithun Chakraborty is too tired and haggard! Ila Arun, as the red light area’s head-madame, is ok.
The film does nothing to sensitize against the prostitute’s plight; nor does it help to lay spotlight on interior
India’s woeful condition. In the end, it’s not even good cinema. This chingaari fizzles out without lighting any fire. I hope Lajmi drops the ‘neice of Guru Dutt’ tag for the time being till she returns with a more meaningful and involving film!
Overall: Avoid
Side Notes
While on prostitutes, I read the following somewhere: during the shoot of Kalyug abroad, Deepal Shaw was mistaken for a whore by another one from the tribe there! Despite liking Shaw in that film, my overall impression of her is that – to put it very bluntly – she looks like a slut! Her music videos are largely responsible for giving that image. In the write-up that I read, Shaw narrated this incident with obvious glee. I don’t know about her, but if I were in her place, I would have taken serious offence and not publicize this fact and, more importantly, do some serious introspection!
Secondly, who is that goddamn singer who has screeched ‘Aa darr ke marr’ from Darna Zaroori Hai! It’s the most irritating, grating and awful voice I have heard in recent times. If the brief given to her was to sound sexy and scary at the same time, she has got it widely wrong! Why does Ram Gopal Verma waste money and time in recording songs which no one is going to buy? Stardust (April 2006) carries a piece on Verma’s deteriorating position in the industry. Though Stardust in itself is a gossip magazine, but still some facts are true and cannot be ignored – his films (except Sarkar) have all flopped, his proteges are deserting him and his financers are distancing themselves.
Hope Darna Zaroori Hai bails him out. I liked the first part (Darna Marna Hai) and am eagerly awaiting the release of the second one now!
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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I admit I am not too well versed in Kalpana Lajmi’s cinema, this web
and haven’t watched any of her films barring the refreshingly honest Ek Pal. My association with her is restricted to Lata Mangeshkar’s extremely eloquent ‘Dil Hoom Hoom Kare’ from Rudaali. Hence, sick
I approached Chingaari with an open mind, and to say it left me cold is a major understatement.
Chingaari is one of those B-and-C-grade films masquerading as an art film. It is a puerile and pathetic piece of cinema that has neither the content nor flow to captivate audiences. It seems Lajmi’s intention was to shock and sensationalise the audience without any care for aesthetics or form.
The story is set in a typical North Indian village, Rangpur which has a designated red light area called Lal Batti (how unimaginative!). The gullible villagers are firmly held in tight clutches of the evil head-priest Bhuvan Panda (Mithun Chakraborty), who abuses his authority for own selfish motives. He keeps them involved in meaningless religious mumbo-jumbos instigating fear in their heart to retain his superiority over them. He uses illogical rites like making a naked virgin girl sit on his lap, while he places himself over a corpse, in order to exorcise the dead man’s evil spirit! Even though he berates prostitutes, resorting to physical and verbal abuse even if they so much as touch the Goddess’ idol inadvertently, still he has no qualms in spending the nights at their place – practicing wild, kinky and sadist sex!
One such prostitute is Basanti (Sushmita Sen), who lives with her daughter Titli, and ekes out her living in that deplorable condition.
In this murky environment enters the fresh, educated and young postman Chandan Mishra (Anuj Sawhney). Like any villager postman, he not only delivers letters, but reads them out and writes for them, and in a sense he becomes a confidante, friend and mentor to them. An unstated, muted and sublime love develops between Chadan and Basanti, cemented by his affection for the latter’s fatherless daughter! He also instigates revolt against Bhuvan Panda.
No doubt the love story between the postman and the prostitute (incidentally, the film’s original title as well) is good, and could have been a classy saga of romance, sacrifice and valor. Unfortunately, Lajmi seems to have seen too many Neha Dhupia flicks of late, hence it ends up being a loud, crass and disgusting melodrama.
The narrative moves in jerks and fits, and the screenplay is shoddy. There is no continuum in the movement, and several unwanted scenes are repetitive or too lengthy for comfort; the running time is also inordinately long; looks as if the editor just did not know his job. Sequences where the prostitutes are interacting are gross. Sushmita’s introduction scene where she instigates two colleagues fighting over a customer and urges them to use words like ‘randi’ and ‘chinaal’ is horrible.
The dialogues are crappy, peppered liberally with obscenities and profanities and are written only to evoke shock value. The climax is hilarious – Sushmita goes to the village temple with her hair flying wild, drums beating and picks up a trishul and kills Bhuvan Panda – it’s straight from those forgettable mid-eighties dacoit/revenge dramas that had infested Bollywood that time!
Production value is shoddy and camera work is tacky. The music (by Adesh Srivastava) is nothing to write home (or anywhere) about.
Sushmita Sen gives a relatively good performance, though she appears too urban to pass off as a rustic prostitute convincingly. Anuj Sawhney is adequate. But Mithun Chakraborty is too tired and haggard! Ila Arun, as the red light area’s head-madame, is ok.
The film does nothing to sensitize against the prostitute’s plight; nor does it help to lay spotlight on interior
India’s woeful condition. In the end, it’s not even good cinema. This chingaari fizzles out without lighting any fire. I hope Lajmi drops the ‘neice of Guru Dutt’ tag for the time being till she returns with a more meaningful and involving film!
Overall: Avoid
Side Notes
While on prostitutes, I read the following somewhere: during the shoot of Kalyug abroad, Deepal Shaw was mistaken for a whore by another one from the tribe there! Despite liking Shaw in that film, my overall impression of her is that – to put it very bluntly – she looks like a slut! Her music videos are largely responsible for giving that image. In the write-up that I read, Shaw narrated this incident with obvious glee. I don’t know about her, but if I were in her place, I would have taken serious offence and not publicize this fact and, more importantly, do some serious introspection!
Secondly, who is that goddamn singer who has screeched ‘Aa darr ke marr’ from Darna Zaroori Hai! It’s the most irritating, grating and awful voice I have heard in recent times. If the brief given to her was to sound sexy and scary at the same time, she has got it widely wrong! Why does Ram Gopal Verma waste money and time in recording songs which no one is going to buy? Stardust (April 2006) carries a piece on Verma’s deteriorating position in the industry. Though Stardust in itself is a gossip magazine, but still some facts are true and cannot be ignored – his films (except Sarkar) have all flopped, his proteges are deserting him and his financers are distancing themselves.
Hope Darna Zaroori Hai bails him out. I liked the first part (Darna Marna Hai) and am eagerly awaiting the release of the second one now!
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
This review was written the same day I saw the film, dermatologist
which was on 4th February. But seeing the overwhelmingly positive reactions for the film didn’t have heart to publish it. Till the time I told Anubha about its existence. She reprimanded me for not putting it up and reminded me that on my blog I had complete right to write whatever I felt. True, help
perhaps I have been playing to the gallery quite a lot, visit this
and taking ‘the popular’ tag a bit too seriously than warranted. Thanks Anubha for the reality check!
Blame it on the huge expectation – but fact is I found Rang De Basanti just about ok, a different film, but just about that. Somehow it couldn’t involve me into its narration. There were too many incoherent details which left me cold – some were minor quibbles regarding Delhi’s depiction: why the hell did Sonia (Soha Ali) take Sue via Red Fort if they were going to University from Delhi Airport? There is a much shorter and convenient route! And then, that was clearly not anywhere close to Delhi University for sure! It was India Habitat Center passed off as DU!
Even though Rakeysh Mehra struggles to deploy a conventional story telling format, he is unable to fully discard the now-standard jump-cuts and fast-track editing styles; at few crucial points these neo-modern techniques crop up horrifyingly. The post-interval lathi charge scene is one prime example. Instead of gripping the audience in a tight-fist and knocking a solid punch, he shows a collage alternating between slow-motion and hazy movements with a dull song in the background. The entire sequence’s steam, whose build-up begins with Ajay Rathod’s death, dissipates away like a pressure cooker rudely taken off the burner!
The transformation of youth doesn’t come around neatly. I kept thinking of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s Swades, and how he had handled Mohan Bhargav’s transition smoothly! Here, it is erratic and abrupt. Also, in Swades the awakening is not linked to personal tragedy, making it more sublime. Here it seems more like those eighties personal vendetta film wearing a neo-modern cloak!
The story is interesting – but the climax is very shoddy: it takes away the entire thrust of the film’s message. Here, I am not talking about the defence minister’s too-easy-to-be-true murder, which can be accorded to the director’s creative license. But it’s the death of all protagonists which I could not digest. Does the maker want to tell the youth that if they have to do something for the country they will necessarily be killed? And does it really make the nation rise in protest? Except for a few shots of some students talking to NDTV, which sounded like a storm in a teacup and extremely unconvincing, the film-maker remains stunningly silent on their action’s impact. To me, their sacrifice looked futile. Plus, where did the Commandos come from? And why?
Agreed that Rakeysh Mehra wanted to draw a parallel to Bhagat Singh et al, but shouldn’t the climax have moved away to show the difference of the eras and of the youth, then and now! I feel an intelligent comparison need not be hundred percent overlapping – though the rising could be compared but the end needed much brain which was definitely not put to use. A mature writer draws parallel, brings them to a crossroad, but from there takes it to a separate and higher denouement. And this is where the film fails, and the reason why it couldn’t touch me at all.
Another fact which irked me was Sue’s character – did Mehra really have to use a foreigner to awaken youth-conscience and youth conscious? Is this some surreptitious handshake with old British ideology that ‘it is always white man’s burden’ to take care of Indians? Sorry, Mehra – an upright Indian NGO worker could have made the point more clear and driven home the fact more scathingly – and if Mehra feels that such people don’t exist, sorry he needs to open his wider!
On the plus side – the film gives ample space to every character though it could have incorporated a bit on Soha Ali and Sharman Joshi’s background/home as well.
Performance-wise the film is a topper – Soha Ali is a huge revelation especially after her wooden acting in Dil Maange More. She slips into her character’s skin effortlessly. Sharman Joshi, Kunal Kapoor and Atul Kulkarni live their part with aplomb. Siddharth, who gets maximum footage amongst the supporting cast, is a delight to watch, especially his voice modulation was impeccable (not sure if he has done the dubbing himself!). Alice Patten, with her cute night-class Hindi, is sweet and understated. Madhavan shines in his guest appearance.
But the mother of all performances is given by veteran Waheeda Rahman in her brief but strong role as Ajay’s mother. In one scene, after her son’s death, she is shown walking towards the door – her back is towards the camera, yet her entire body language, the minor tremor, the slight limp as she walks shows a seasoned actor at work! It’s a one small shot, where she is not even facing the camera – yet, she literally walks away with all accolades!
There are some smaller but solid parts – Om Puri, Kirron Kher and Anupam Kher who do their bit fabulously.
AR Rahman’s music is good in parts, though his background score was lacking – the odd sound during Jallianwala Bagh sequence was probably meant to stir hearts, but it shook the ears more! Lata Mangeshkar’s Lukka Chhupi Bahut Hui brings a lump, and that entire sequence is very well handled (though a personal grouse will remain for editing a bulk of Lataji’s portion). Of the other songs, Mohe mohe tu rang de basanti, Paathshaala and Tu bin bataye are ok. In ‘Mohe mohe’ Mehra picks up a few leaves from Yash Chopra’s films and shows flowing mustard fields and pulsating Punjab in satiated sway – given a choice, I’d prefer the tranquil pace of ‘Aisa des hai mera’ from Veer Zaara!
I understand the film is doing very well, and I have only read praise for it – perhaps, I am getting old to enjoy these ‘youthful’ films, but once again I would leave by mentioning Swades – the patriotism, the inner journey presented in that film was far superior to RDB’s graffiti-like cocktail!
Overall: Above average
Also check out: Saba's brilliant review of the same film
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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I admit I am not too well versed in Kalpana Lajmi’s cinema, this web
and haven’t watched any of her films barring the refreshingly honest Ek Pal. My association with her is restricted to Lata Mangeshkar’s extremely eloquent ‘Dil Hoom Hoom Kare’ from Rudaali. Hence, sick
I approached Chingaari with an open mind, and to say it left me cold is a major understatement.
Chingaari is one of those B-and-C-grade films masquerading as an art film. It is a puerile and pathetic piece of cinema that has neither the content nor flow to captivate audiences. It seems Lajmi’s intention was to shock and sensationalise the audience without any care for aesthetics or form.
The story is set in a typical North Indian village, Rangpur which has a designated red light area called Lal Batti (how unimaginative!). The gullible villagers are firmly held in tight clutches of the evil head-priest Bhuvan Panda (Mithun Chakraborty), who abuses his authority for own selfish motives. He keeps them involved in meaningless religious mumbo-jumbos instigating fear in their heart to retain his superiority over them. He uses illogical rites like making a naked virgin girl sit on his lap, while he places himself over a corpse, in order to exorcise the dead man’s evil spirit! Even though he berates prostitutes, resorting to physical and verbal abuse even if they so much as touch the Goddess’ idol inadvertently, still he has no qualms in spending the nights at their place – practicing wild, kinky and sadist sex!
One such prostitute is Basanti (Sushmita Sen), who lives with her daughter Titli, and ekes out her living in that deplorable condition.
In this murky environment enters the fresh, educated and young postman Chandan Mishra (Anuj Sawhney). Like any villager postman, he not only delivers letters, but reads them out and writes for them, and in a sense he becomes a confidante, friend and mentor to them. An unstated, muted and sublime love develops between Chadan and Basanti, cemented by his affection for the latter’s fatherless daughter! He also instigates revolt against Bhuvan Panda.
No doubt the love story between the postman and the prostitute (incidentally, the film’s original title as well) is good, and could have been a classy saga of romance, sacrifice and valor. Unfortunately, Lajmi seems to have seen too many Neha Dhupia flicks of late, hence it ends up being a loud, crass and disgusting melodrama.
The narrative moves in jerks and fits, and the screenplay is shoddy. There is no continuum in the movement, and several unwanted scenes are repetitive or too lengthy for comfort; the running time is also inordinately long; looks as if the editor just did not know his job. Sequences where the prostitutes are interacting are gross. Sushmita’s introduction scene where she instigates two colleagues fighting over a customer and urges them to use words like ‘randi’ and ‘chinaal’ is horrible.
The dialogues are crappy, peppered liberally with obscenities and profanities and are written only to evoke shock value. The climax is hilarious – Sushmita goes to the village temple with her hair flying wild, drums beating and picks up a trishul and kills Bhuvan Panda – it’s straight from those forgettable mid-eighties dacoit/revenge dramas that had infested Bollywood that time!
Production value is shoddy and camera work is tacky. The music (by Adesh Srivastava) is nothing to write home (or anywhere) about.
Sushmita Sen gives a relatively good performance, though she appears too urban to pass off as a rustic prostitute convincingly. Anuj Sawhney is adequate. But Mithun Chakraborty is too tired and haggard! Ila Arun, as the red light area’s head-madame, is ok.
The film does nothing to sensitize against the prostitute’s plight; nor does it help to lay spotlight on interior
India’s woeful condition. In the end, it’s not even good cinema. This chingaari fizzles out without lighting any fire. I hope Lajmi drops the ‘neice of Guru Dutt’ tag for the time being till she returns with a more meaningful and involving film!
Overall: Avoid
Side Notes
While on prostitutes, I read the following somewhere: during the shoot of Kalyug abroad, Deepal Shaw was mistaken for a whore by another one from the tribe there! Despite liking Shaw in that film, my overall impression of her is that – to put it very bluntly – she looks like a slut! Her music videos are largely responsible for giving that image. In the write-up that I read, Shaw narrated this incident with obvious glee. I don’t know about her, but if I were in her place, I would have taken serious offence and not publicize this fact and, more importantly, do some serious introspection!
Secondly, who is that goddamn singer who has screeched ‘Aa darr ke marr’ from Darna Zaroori Hai! It’s the most irritating, grating and awful voice I have heard in recent times. If the brief given to her was to sound sexy and scary at the same time, she has got it widely wrong! Why does Ram Gopal Verma waste money and time in recording songs which no one is going to buy? Stardust (April 2006) carries a piece on Verma’s deteriorating position in the industry. Though Stardust in itself is a gossip magazine, but still some facts are true and cannot be ignored – his films (except Sarkar) have all flopped, his proteges are deserting him and his financers are distancing themselves.
Hope Darna Zaroori Hai bails him out. I liked the first part (Darna Marna Hai) and am eagerly awaiting the release of the second one now!
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
This review was written the same day I saw the film, dermatologist
which was on 4th February. But seeing the overwhelmingly positive reactions for the film didn’t have heart to publish it. Till the time I told Anubha about its existence. She reprimanded me for not putting it up and reminded me that on my blog I had complete right to write whatever I felt. True, help
perhaps I have been playing to the gallery quite a lot, visit this
and taking ‘the popular’ tag a bit too seriously than warranted. Thanks Anubha for the reality check!
Blame it on the huge expectation – but fact is I found Rang De Basanti just about ok, a different film, but just about that. Somehow it couldn’t involve me into its narration. There were too many incoherent details which left me cold – some were minor quibbles regarding Delhi’s depiction: why the hell did Sonia (Soha Ali) take Sue via Red Fort if they were going to University from Delhi Airport? There is a much shorter and convenient route! And then, that was clearly not anywhere close to Delhi University for sure! It was India Habitat Center passed off as DU!
Even though Rakeysh Mehra struggles to deploy a conventional story telling format, he is unable to fully discard the now-standard jump-cuts and fast-track editing styles; at few crucial points these neo-modern techniques crop up horrifyingly. The post-interval lathi charge scene is one prime example. Instead of gripping the audience in a tight-fist and knocking a solid punch, he shows a collage alternating between slow-motion and hazy movements with a dull song in the background. The entire sequence’s steam, whose build-up begins with Ajay Rathod’s death, dissipates away like a pressure cooker rudely taken off the burner!
The transformation of youth doesn’t come around neatly. I kept thinking of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s Swades, and how he had handled Mohan Bhargav’s transition smoothly! Here, it is erratic and abrupt. Also, in Swades the awakening is not linked to personal tragedy, making it more sublime. Here it seems more like those eighties personal vendetta film wearing a neo-modern cloak!
The story is interesting – but the climax is very shoddy: it takes away the entire thrust of the film’s message. Here, I am not talking about the defence minister’s too-easy-to-be-true murder, which can be accorded to the director’s creative license. But it’s the death of all protagonists which I could not digest. Does the maker want to tell the youth that if they have to do something for the country they will necessarily be killed? And does it really make the nation rise in protest? Except for a few shots of some students talking to NDTV, which sounded like a storm in a teacup and extremely unconvincing, the film-maker remains stunningly silent on their action’s impact. To me, their sacrifice looked futile. Plus, where did the Commandos come from? And why?
Agreed that Rakeysh Mehra wanted to draw a parallel to Bhagat Singh et al, but shouldn’t the climax have moved away to show the difference of the eras and of the youth, then and now! I feel an intelligent comparison need not be hundred percent overlapping – though the rising could be compared but the end needed much brain which was definitely not put to use. A mature writer draws parallel, brings them to a crossroad, but from there takes it to a separate and higher denouement. And this is where the film fails, and the reason why it couldn’t touch me at all.
Another fact which irked me was Sue’s character – did Mehra really have to use a foreigner to awaken youth-conscience and youth conscious? Is this some surreptitious handshake with old British ideology that ‘it is always white man’s burden’ to take care of Indians? Sorry, Mehra – an upright Indian NGO worker could have made the point more clear and driven home the fact more scathingly – and if Mehra feels that such people don’t exist, sorry he needs to open his wider!
On the plus side – the film gives ample space to every character though it could have incorporated a bit on Soha Ali and Sharman Joshi’s background/home as well.
Performance-wise the film is a topper – Soha Ali is a huge revelation especially after her wooden acting in Dil Maange More. She slips into her character’s skin effortlessly. Sharman Joshi, Kunal Kapoor and Atul Kulkarni live their part with aplomb. Siddharth, who gets maximum footage amongst the supporting cast, is a delight to watch, especially his voice modulation was impeccable (not sure if he has done the dubbing himself!). Alice Patten, with her cute night-class Hindi, is sweet and understated. Madhavan shines in his guest appearance.
But the mother of all performances is given by veteran Waheeda Rahman in her brief but strong role as Ajay’s mother. In one scene, after her son’s death, she is shown walking towards the door – her back is towards the camera, yet her entire body language, the minor tremor, the slight limp as she walks shows a seasoned actor at work! It’s a one small shot, where she is not even facing the camera – yet, she literally walks away with all accolades!
There are some smaller but solid parts – Om Puri, Kirron Kher and Anupam Kher who do their bit fabulously.
AR Rahman’s music is good in parts, though his background score was lacking – the odd sound during Jallianwala Bagh sequence was probably meant to stir hearts, but it shook the ears more! Lata Mangeshkar’s Lukka Chhupi Bahut Hui brings a lump, and that entire sequence is very well handled (though a personal grouse will remain for editing a bulk of Lataji’s portion). Of the other songs, Mohe mohe tu rang de basanti, Paathshaala and Tu bin bataye are ok. In ‘Mohe mohe’ Mehra picks up a few leaves from Yash Chopra’s films and shows flowing mustard fields and pulsating Punjab in satiated sway – given a choice, I’d prefer the tranquil pace of ‘Aisa des hai mera’ from Veer Zaara!
I understand the film is doing very well, and I have only read praise for it – perhaps, I am getting old to enjoy these ‘youthful’ films, but once again I would leave by mentioning Swades – the patriotism, the inner journey presented in that film was far superior to RDB’s graffiti-like cocktail!
Overall: Above average
Also check out: Saba's brilliant review of the same film
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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I admit I am not too well versed in Kalpana Lajmi’s cinema, this web
and haven’t watched any of her films barring the refreshingly honest Ek Pal. My association with her is restricted to Lata Mangeshkar’s extremely eloquent ‘Dil Hoom Hoom Kare’ from Rudaali. Hence, sick
I approached Chingaari with an open mind, and to say it left me cold is a major understatement.
Chingaari is one of those B-and-C-grade films masquerading as an art film. It is a puerile and pathetic piece of cinema that has neither the content nor flow to captivate audiences. It seems Lajmi’s intention was to shock and sensationalise the audience without any care for aesthetics or form.
The story is set in a typical North Indian village, Rangpur which has a designated red light area called Lal Batti (how unimaginative!). The gullible villagers are firmly held in tight clutches of the evil head-priest Bhuvan Panda (Mithun Chakraborty), who abuses his authority for own selfish motives. He keeps them involved in meaningless religious mumbo-jumbos instigating fear in their heart to retain his superiority over them. He uses illogical rites like making a naked virgin girl sit on his lap, while he places himself over a corpse, in order to exorcise the dead man’s evil spirit! Even though he berates prostitutes, resorting to physical and verbal abuse even if they so much as touch the Goddess’ idol inadvertently, still he has no qualms in spending the nights at their place – practicing wild, kinky and sadist sex!
One such prostitute is Basanti (Sushmita Sen), who lives with her daughter Titli, and ekes out her living in that deplorable condition.
In this murky environment enters the fresh, educated and young postman Chandan Mishra (Anuj Sawhney). Like any villager postman, he not only delivers letters, but reads them out and writes for them, and in a sense he becomes a confidante, friend and mentor to them. An unstated, muted and sublime love develops between Chadan and Basanti, cemented by his affection for the latter’s fatherless daughter! He also instigates revolt against Bhuvan Panda.
No doubt the love story between the postman and the prostitute (incidentally, the film’s original title as well) is good, and could have been a classy saga of romance, sacrifice and valor. Unfortunately, Lajmi seems to have seen too many Neha Dhupia flicks of late, hence it ends up being a loud, crass and disgusting melodrama.
The narrative moves in jerks and fits, and the screenplay is shoddy. There is no continuum in the movement, and several unwanted scenes are repetitive or too lengthy for comfort; the running time is also inordinately long; looks as if the editor just did not know his job. Sequences where the prostitutes are interacting are gross. Sushmita’s introduction scene where she instigates two colleagues fighting over a customer and urges them to use words like ‘randi’ and ‘chinaal’ is horrible.
The dialogues are crappy, peppered liberally with obscenities and profanities and are written only to evoke shock value. The climax is hilarious – Sushmita goes to the village temple with her hair flying wild, drums beating and picks up a trishul and kills Bhuvan Panda – it’s straight from those forgettable mid-eighties dacoit/revenge dramas that had infested Bollywood that time!
Production value is shoddy and camera work is tacky. The music (by Adesh Srivastava) is nothing to write home (or anywhere) about.
Sushmita Sen gives a relatively good performance, though she appears too urban to pass off as a rustic prostitute convincingly. Anuj Sawhney is adequate. But Mithun Chakraborty is too tired and haggard! Ila Arun, as the red light area’s head-madame, is ok.
The film does nothing to sensitize against the prostitute’s plight; nor does it help to lay spotlight on interior
India’s woeful condition. In the end, it’s not even good cinema. This chingaari fizzles out without lighting any fire. I hope Lajmi drops the ‘neice of Guru Dutt’ tag for the time being till she returns with a more meaningful and involving film!
Overall: Avoid
Side Notes
While on prostitutes, I read the following somewhere: during the shoot of Kalyug abroad, Deepal Shaw was mistaken for a whore by another one from the tribe there! Despite liking Shaw in that film, my overall impression of her is that – to put it very bluntly – she looks like a slut! Her music videos are largely responsible for giving that image. In the write-up that I read, Shaw narrated this incident with obvious glee. I don’t know about her, but if I were in her place, I would have taken serious offence and not publicize this fact and, more importantly, do some serious introspection!
Secondly, who is that goddamn singer who has screeched ‘Aa darr ke marr’ from Darna Zaroori Hai! It’s the most irritating, grating and awful voice I have heard in recent times. If the brief given to her was to sound sexy and scary at the same time, she has got it widely wrong! Why does Ram Gopal Verma waste money and time in recording songs which no one is going to buy? Stardust (April 2006) carries a piece on Verma’s deteriorating position in the industry. Though Stardust in itself is a gossip magazine, but still some facts are true and cannot be ignored – his films (except Sarkar) have all flopped, his proteges are deserting him and his financers are distancing themselves.
Hope Darna Zaroori Hai bails him out. I liked the first part (Darna Marna Hai) and am eagerly awaiting the release of the second one now!
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
This review was written the same day I saw the film, dermatologist
which was on 4th February. But seeing the overwhelmingly positive reactions for the film didn’t have heart to publish it. Till the time I told Anubha about its existence. She reprimanded me for not putting it up and reminded me that on my blog I had complete right to write whatever I felt. True, help
perhaps I have been playing to the gallery quite a lot, visit this
and taking ‘the popular’ tag a bit too seriously than warranted. Thanks Anubha for the reality check!
Blame it on the huge expectation – but fact is I found Rang De Basanti just about ok, a different film, but just about that. Somehow it couldn’t involve me into its narration. There were too many incoherent details which left me cold – some were minor quibbles regarding Delhi’s depiction: why the hell did Sonia (Soha Ali) take Sue via Red Fort if they were going to University from Delhi Airport? There is a much shorter and convenient route! And then, that was clearly not anywhere close to Delhi University for sure! It was India Habitat Center passed off as DU!
Even though Rakeysh Mehra struggles to deploy a conventional story telling format, he is unable to fully discard the now-standard jump-cuts and fast-track editing styles; at few crucial points these neo-modern techniques crop up horrifyingly. The post-interval lathi charge scene is one prime example. Instead of gripping the audience in a tight-fist and knocking a solid punch, he shows a collage alternating between slow-motion and hazy movements with a dull song in the background. The entire sequence’s steam, whose build-up begins with Ajay Rathod’s death, dissipates away like a pressure cooker rudely taken off the burner!
The transformation of youth doesn’t come around neatly. I kept thinking of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s Swades, and how he had handled Mohan Bhargav’s transition smoothly! Here, it is erratic and abrupt. Also, in Swades the awakening is not linked to personal tragedy, making it more sublime. Here it seems more like those eighties personal vendetta film wearing a neo-modern cloak!
The story is interesting – but the climax is very shoddy: it takes away the entire thrust of the film’s message. Here, I am not talking about the defence minister’s too-easy-to-be-true murder, which can be accorded to the director’s creative license. But it’s the death of all protagonists which I could not digest. Does the maker want to tell the youth that if they have to do something for the country they will necessarily be killed? And does it really make the nation rise in protest? Except for a few shots of some students talking to NDTV, which sounded like a storm in a teacup and extremely unconvincing, the film-maker remains stunningly silent on their action’s impact. To me, their sacrifice looked futile. Plus, where did the Commandos come from? And why?
Agreed that Rakeysh Mehra wanted to draw a parallel to Bhagat Singh et al, but shouldn’t the climax have moved away to show the difference of the eras and of the youth, then and now! I feel an intelligent comparison need not be hundred percent overlapping – though the rising could be compared but the end needed much brain which was definitely not put to use. A mature writer draws parallel, brings them to a crossroad, but from there takes it to a separate and higher denouement. And this is where the film fails, and the reason why it couldn’t touch me at all.
Another fact which irked me was Sue’s character – did Mehra really have to use a foreigner to awaken youth-conscience and youth conscious? Is this some surreptitious handshake with old British ideology that ‘it is always white man’s burden’ to take care of Indians? Sorry, Mehra – an upright Indian NGO worker could have made the point more clear and driven home the fact more scathingly – and if Mehra feels that such people don’t exist, sorry he needs to open his wider!
On the plus side – the film gives ample space to every character though it could have incorporated a bit on Soha Ali and Sharman Joshi’s background/home as well.
Performance-wise the film is a topper – Soha Ali is a huge revelation especially after her wooden acting in Dil Maange More. She slips into her character’s skin effortlessly. Sharman Joshi, Kunal Kapoor and Atul Kulkarni live their part with aplomb. Siddharth, who gets maximum footage amongst the supporting cast, is a delight to watch, especially his voice modulation was impeccable (not sure if he has done the dubbing himself!). Alice Patten, with her cute night-class Hindi, is sweet and understated. Madhavan shines in his guest appearance.
But the mother of all performances is given by veteran Waheeda Rahman in her brief but strong role as Ajay’s mother. In one scene, after her son’s death, she is shown walking towards the door – her back is towards the camera, yet her entire body language, the minor tremor, the slight limp as she walks shows a seasoned actor at work! It’s a one small shot, where she is not even facing the camera – yet, she literally walks away with all accolades!
There are some smaller but solid parts – Om Puri, Kirron Kher and Anupam Kher who do their bit fabulously.
AR Rahman’s music is good in parts, though his background score was lacking – the odd sound during Jallianwala Bagh sequence was probably meant to stir hearts, but it shook the ears more! Lata Mangeshkar’s Lukka Chhupi Bahut Hui brings a lump, and that entire sequence is very well handled (though a personal grouse will remain for editing a bulk of Lataji’s portion). Of the other songs, Mohe mohe tu rang de basanti, Paathshaala and Tu bin bataye are ok. In ‘Mohe mohe’ Mehra picks up a few leaves from Yash Chopra’s films and shows flowing mustard fields and pulsating Punjab in satiated sway – given a choice, I’d prefer the tranquil pace of ‘Aisa des hai mera’ from Veer Zaara!
I understand the film is doing very well, and I have only read praise for it – perhaps, I am getting old to enjoy these ‘youthful’ films, but once again I would leave by mentioning Swades – the patriotism, the inner journey presented in that film was far superior to RDB’s graffiti-like cocktail!
Overall: Above average
Also check out: Saba's brilliant review of the same film
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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I admit I am not too well versed in Kalpana Lajmi’s cinema, this web
and haven’t watched any of her films barring the refreshingly honest Ek Pal. My association with her is restricted to Lata Mangeshkar’s extremely eloquent ‘Dil Hoom Hoom Kare’ from Rudaali. Hence, sick
I approached Chingaari with an open mind, and to say it left me cold is a major understatement.
Chingaari is one of those B-and-C-grade films masquerading as an art film. It is a puerile and pathetic piece of cinema that has neither the content nor flow to captivate audiences. It seems Lajmi’s intention was to shock and sensationalise the audience without any care for aesthetics or form.
The story is set in a typical North Indian village, Rangpur which has a designated red light area called Lal Batti (how unimaginative!). The gullible villagers are firmly held in tight clutches of the evil head-priest Bhuvan Panda (Mithun Chakraborty), who abuses his authority for own selfish motives. He keeps them involved in meaningless religious mumbo-jumbos instigating fear in their heart to retain his superiority over them. He uses illogical rites like making a naked virgin girl sit on his lap, while he places himself over a corpse, in order to exorcise the dead man’s evil spirit! Even though he berates prostitutes, resorting to physical and verbal abuse even if they so much as touch the Goddess’ idol inadvertently, still he has no qualms in spending the nights at their place – practicing wild, kinky and sadist sex!
One such prostitute is Basanti (Sushmita Sen), who lives with her daughter Titli, and ekes out her living in that deplorable condition.
In this murky environment enters the fresh, educated and young postman Chandan Mishra (Anuj Sawhney). Like any villager postman, he not only delivers letters, but reads them out and writes for them, and in a sense he becomes a confidante, friend and mentor to them. An unstated, muted and sublime love develops between Chadan and Basanti, cemented by his affection for the latter’s fatherless daughter! He also instigates revolt against Bhuvan Panda.
No doubt the love story between the postman and the prostitute (incidentally, the film’s original title as well) is good, and could have been a classy saga of romance, sacrifice and valor. Unfortunately, Lajmi seems to have seen too many Neha Dhupia flicks of late, hence it ends up being a loud, crass and disgusting melodrama.
The narrative moves in jerks and fits, and the screenplay is shoddy. There is no continuum in the movement, and several unwanted scenes are repetitive or too lengthy for comfort; the running time is also inordinately long; looks as if the editor just did not know his job. Sequences where the prostitutes are interacting are gross. Sushmita’s introduction scene where she instigates two colleagues fighting over a customer and urges them to use words like ‘randi’ and ‘chinaal’ is horrible.
The dialogues are crappy, peppered liberally with obscenities and profanities and are written only to evoke shock value. The climax is hilarious – Sushmita goes to the village temple with her hair flying wild, drums beating and picks up a trishul and kills Bhuvan Panda – it’s straight from those forgettable mid-eighties dacoit/revenge dramas that had infested Bollywood that time!
Production value is shoddy and camera work is tacky. The music (by Adesh Srivastava) is nothing to write home (or anywhere) about.
Sushmita Sen gives a relatively good performance, though she appears too urban to pass off as a rustic prostitute convincingly. Anuj Sawhney is adequate. But Mithun Chakraborty is too tired and haggard! Ila Arun, as the red light area’s head-madame, is ok.
The film does nothing to sensitize against the prostitute’s plight; nor does it help to lay spotlight on interior
India’s woeful condition. In the end, it’s not even good cinema. This chingaari fizzles out without lighting any fire. I hope Lajmi drops the ‘neice of Guru Dutt’ tag for the time being till she returns with a more meaningful and involving film!
Overall: Avoid
Side Notes
While on prostitutes, I read the following somewhere: during the shoot of Kalyug abroad, Deepal Shaw was mistaken for a whore by another one from the tribe there! Despite liking Shaw in that film, my overall impression of her is that – to put it very bluntly – she looks like a slut! Her music videos are largely responsible for giving that image. In the write-up that I read, Shaw narrated this incident with obvious glee. I don’t know about her, but if I were in her place, I would have taken serious offence and not publicize this fact and, more importantly, do some serious introspection!
Secondly, who is that goddamn singer who has screeched ‘Aa darr ke marr’ from Darna Zaroori Hai! It’s the most irritating, grating and awful voice I have heard in recent times. If the brief given to her was to sound sexy and scary at the same time, she has got it widely wrong! Why does Ram Gopal Verma waste money and time in recording songs which no one is going to buy? Stardust (April 2006) carries a piece on Verma’s deteriorating position in the industry. Though Stardust in itself is a gossip magazine, but still some facts are true and cannot be ignored – his films (except Sarkar) have all flopped, his proteges are deserting him and his financers are distancing themselves.
Hope Darna Zaroori Hai bails him out. I liked the first part (Darna Marna Hai) and am eagerly awaiting the release of the second one now!
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
This review was written the same day I saw the film, dermatologist
which was on 4th February. But seeing the overwhelmingly positive reactions for the film didn’t have heart to publish it. Till the time I told Anubha about its existence. She reprimanded me for not putting it up and reminded me that on my blog I had complete right to write whatever I felt. True, help
perhaps I have been playing to the gallery quite a lot, visit this
and taking ‘the popular’ tag a bit too seriously than warranted. Thanks Anubha for the reality check!
Blame it on the huge expectation – but fact is I found Rang De Basanti just about ok, a different film, but just about that. Somehow it couldn’t involve me into its narration. There were too many incoherent details which left me cold – some were minor quibbles regarding Delhi’s depiction: why the hell did Sonia (Soha Ali) take Sue via Red Fort if they were going to University from Delhi Airport? There is a much shorter and convenient route! And then, that was clearly not anywhere close to Delhi University for sure! It was India Habitat Center passed off as DU!
Even though Rakeysh Mehra struggles to deploy a conventional story telling format, he is unable to fully discard the now-standard jump-cuts and fast-track editing styles; at few crucial points these neo-modern techniques crop up horrifyingly. The post-interval lathi charge scene is one prime example. Instead of gripping the audience in a tight-fist and knocking a solid punch, he shows a collage alternating between slow-motion and hazy movements with a dull song in the background. The entire sequence’s steam, whose build-up begins with Ajay Rathod’s death, dissipates away like a pressure cooker rudely taken off the burner!
The transformation of youth doesn’t come around neatly. I kept thinking of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s Swades, and how he had handled Mohan Bhargav’s transition smoothly! Here, it is erratic and abrupt. Also, in Swades the awakening is not linked to personal tragedy, making it more sublime. Here it seems more like those eighties personal vendetta film wearing a neo-modern cloak!
The story is interesting – but the climax is very shoddy: it takes away the entire thrust of the film’s message. Here, I am not talking about the defence minister’s too-easy-to-be-true murder, which can be accorded to the director’s creative license. But it’s the death of all protagonists which I could not digest. Does the maker want to tell the youth that if they have to do something for the country they will necessarily be killed? And does it really make the nation rise in protest? Except for a few shots of some students talking to NDTV, which sounded like a storm in a teacup and extremely unconvincing, the film-maker remains stunningly silent on their action’s impact. To me, their sacrifice looked futile. Plus, where did the Commandos come from? And why?
Agreed that Rakeysh Mehra wanted to draw a parallel to Bhagat Singh et al, but shouldn’t the climax have moved away to show the difference of the eras and of the youth, then and now! I feel an intelligent comparison need not be hundred percent overlapping – though the rising could be compared but the end needed much brain which was definitely not put to use. A mature writer draws parallel, brings them to a crossroad, but from there takes it to a separate and higher denouement. And this is where the film fails, and the reason why it couldn’t touch me at all.
Another fact which irked me was Sue’s character – did Mehra really have to use a foreigner to awaken youth-conscience and youth conscious? Is this some surreptitious handshake with old British ideology that ‘it is always white man’s burden’ to take care of Indians? Sorry, Mehra – an upright Indian NGO worker could have made the point more clear and driven home the fact more scathingly – and if Mehra feels that such people don’t exist, sorry he needs to open his wider!
On the plus side – the film gives ample space to every character though it could have incorporated a bit on Soha Ali and Sharman Joshi’s background/home as well.
Performance-wise the film is a topper – Soha Ali is a huge revelation especially after her wooden acting in Dil Maange More. She slips into her character’s skin effortlessly. Sharman Joshi, Kunal Kapoor and Atul Kulkarni live their part with aplomb. Siddharth, who gets maximum footage amongst the supporting cast, is a delight to watch, especially his voice modulation was impeccable (not sure if he has done the dubbing himself!). Alice Patten, with her cute night-class Hindi, is sweet and understated. Madhavan shines in his guest appearance.
But the mother of all performances is given by veteran Waheeda Rahman in her brief but strong role as Ajay’s mother. In one scene, after her son’s death, she is shown walking towards the door – her back is towards the camera, yet her entire body language, the minor tremor, the slight limp as she walks shows a seasoned actor at work! It’s a one small shot, where she is not even facing the camera – yet, she literally walks away with all accolades!
There are some smaller but solid parts – Om Puri, Kirron Kher and Anupam Kher who do their bit fabulously.
AR Rahman’s music is good in parts, though his background score was lacking – the odd sound during Jallianwala Bagh sequence was probably meant to stir hearts, but it shook the ears more! Lata Mangeshkar’s Lukka Chhupi Bahut Hui brings a lump, and that entire sequence is very well handled (though a personal grouse will remain for editing a bulk of Lataji’s portion). Of the other songs, Mohe mohe tu rang de basanti, Paathshaala and Tu bin bataye are ok. In ‘Mohe mohe’ Mehra picks up a few leaves from Yash Chopra’s films and shows flowing mustard fields and pulsating Punjab in satiated sway – given a choice, I’d prefer the tranquil pace of ‘Aisa des hai mera’ from Veer Zaara!
I understand the film is doing very well, and I have only read praise for it – perhaps, I am getting old to enjoy these ‘youthful’ films, but once again I would leave by mentioning Swades – the patriotism, the inner journey presented in that film was far superior to RDB’s graffiti-like cocktail!
Overall: Above average
Also check out: Saba's brilliant review of the same film
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
Powered by Zoundry
I admit I am not too well versed in Kalpana Lajmi’s cinema, this web
and haven’t watched any of her films barring the refreshingly honest Ek Pal. My association with her is restricted to Lata Mangeshkar’s extremely eloquent ‘Dil Hoom Hoom Kare’ from Rudaali. Hence, sick
I approached Chingaari with an open mind, and to say it left me cold is a major understatement.
Chingaari is one of those B-and-C-grade films masquerading as an art film. It is a puerile and pathetic piece of cinema that has neither the content nor flow to captivate audiences. It seems Lajmi’s intention was to shock and sensationalise the audience without any care for aesthetics or form.
The story is set in a typical North Indian village, Rangpur which has a designated red light area called Lal Batti (how unimaginative!). The gullible villagers are firmly held in tight clutches of the evil head-priest Bhuvan Panda (Mithun Chakraborty), who abuses his authority for own selfish motives. He keeps them involved in meaningless religious mumbo-jumbos instigating fear in their heart to retain his superiority over them. He uses illogical rites like making a naked virgin girl sit on his lap, while he places himself over a corpse, in order to exorcise the dead man’s evil spirit! Even though he berates prostitutes, resorting to physical and verbal abuse even if they so much as touch the Goddess’ idol inadvertently, still he has no qualms in spending the nights at their place – practicing wild, kinky and sadist sex!
One such prostitute is Basanti (Sushmita Sen), who lives with her daughter Titli, and ekes out her living in that deplorable condition.
In this murky environment enters the fresh, educated and young postman Chandan Mishra (Anuj Sawhney). Like any villager postman, he not only delivers letters, but reads them out and writes for them, and in a sense he becomes a confidante, friend and mentor to them. An unstated, muted and sublime love develops between Chadan and Basanti, cemented by his affection for the latter’s fatherless daughter! He also instigates revolt against Bhuvan Panda.
No doubt the love story between the postman and the prostitute (incidentally, the film’s original title as well) is good, and could have been a classy saga of romance, sacrifice and valor. Unfortunately, Lajmi seems to have seen too many Neha Dhupia flicks of late, hence it ends up being a loud, crass and disgusting melodrama.
The narrative moves in jerks and fits, and the screenplay is shoddy. There is no continuum in the movement, and several unwanted scenes are repetitive or too lengthy for comfort; the running time is also inordinately long; looks as if the editor just did not know his job. Sequences where the prostitutes are interacting are gross. Sushmita’s introduction scene where she instigates two colleagues fighting over a customer and urges them to use words like ‘randi’ and ‘chinaal’ is horrible.
The dialogues are crappy, peppered liberally with obscenities and profanities and are written only to evoke shock value. The climax is hilarious – Sushmita goes to the village temple with her hair flying wild, drums beating and picks up a trishul and kills Bhuvan Panda – it’s straight from those forgettable mid-eighties dacoit/revenge dramas that had infested Bollywood that time!
Production value is shoddy and camera work is tacky. The music (by Adesh Srivastava) is nothing to write home (or anywhere) about.
Sushmita Sen gives a relatively good performance, though she appears too urban to pass off as a rustic prostitute convincingly. Anuj Sawhney is adequate. But Mithun Chakraborty is too tired and haggard! Ila Arun, as the red light area’s head-madame, is ok.
The film does nothing to sensitize against the prostitute’s plight; nor does it help to lay spotlight on interior
India’s woeful condition. In the end, it’s not even good cinema. This chingaari fizzles out without lighting any fire. I hope Lajmi drops the ‘neice of Guru Dutt’ tag for the time being till she returns with a more meaningful and involving film!
Overall: Avoid
Side Notes
While on prostitutes, I read the following somewhere: during the shoot of Kalyug abroad, Deepal Shaw was mistaken for a whore by another one from the tribe there! Despite liking Shaw in that film, my overall impression of her is that – to put it very bluntly – she looks like a slut! Her music videos are largely responsible for giving that image. In the write-up that I read, Shaw narrated this incident with obvious glee. I don’t know about her, but if I were in her place, I would have taken serious offence and not publicize this fact and, more importantly, do some serious introspection!
Secondly, who is that goddamn singer who has screeched ‘Aa darr ke marr’ from Darna Zaroori Hai! It’s the most irritating, grating and awful voice I have heard in recent times. If the brief given to her was to sound sexy and scary at the same time, she has got it widely wrong! Why does Ram Gopal Verma waste money and time in recording songs which no one is going to buy? Stardust (April 2006) carries a piece on Verma’s deteriorating position in the industry. Though Stardust in itself is a gossip magazine, but still some facts are true and cannot be ignored – his films (except Sarkar) have all flopped, his proteges are deserting him and his financers are distancing themselves.
Hope Darna Zaroori Hai bails him out. I liked the first part (Darna Marna Hai) and am eagerly awaiting the release of the second one now!
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
This review was written the same day I saw the film, dermatologist
which was on 4th February. But seeing the overwhelmingly positive reactions for the film didn’t have heart to publish it. Till the time I told Anubha about its existence. She reprimanded me for not putting it up and reminded me that on my blog I had complete right to write whatever I felt. True, help
perhaps I have been playing to the gallery quite a lot, visit this
and taking ‘the popular’ tag a bit too seriously than warranted. Thanks Anubha for the reality check!
Blame it on the huge expectation – but fact is I found Rang De Basanti just about ok, a different film, but just about that. Somehow it couldn’t involve me into its narration. There were too many incoherent details which left me cold – some were minor quibbles regarding Delhi’s depiction: why the hell did Sonia (Soha Ali) take Sue via Red Fort if they were going to University from Delhi Airport? There is a much shorter and convenient route! And then, that was clearly not anywhere close to Delhi University for sure! It was India Habitat Center passed off as DU!
Even though Rakeysh Mehra struggles to deploy a conventional story telling format, he is unable to fully discard the now-standard jump-cuts and fast-track editing styles; at few crucial points these neo-modern techniques crop up horrifyingly. The post-interval lathi charge scene is one prime example. Instead of gripping the audience in a tight-fist and knocking a solid punch, he shows a collage alternating between slow-motion and hazy movements with a dull song in the background. The entire sequence’s steam, whose build-up begins with Ajay Rathod’s death, dissipates away like a pressure cooker rudely taken off the burner!
The transformation of youth doesn’t come around neatly. I kept thinking of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s Swades, and how he had handled Mohan Bhargav’s transition smoothly! Here, it is erratic and abrupt. Also, in Swades the awakening is not linked to personal tragedy, making it more sublime. Here it seems more like those eighties personal vendetta film wearing a neo-modern cloak!
The story is interesting – but the climax is very shoddy: it takes away the entire thrust of the film’s message. Here, I am not talking about the defence minister’s too-easy-to-be-true murder, which can be accorded to the director’s creative license. But it’s the death of all protagonists which I could not digest. Does the maker want to tell the youth that if they have to do something for the country they will necessarily be killed? And does it really make the nation rise in protest? Except for a few shots of some students talking to NDTV, which sounded like a storm in a teacup and extremely unconvincing, the film-maker remains stunningly silent on their action’s impact. To me, their sacrifice looked futile. Plus, where did the Commandos come from? And why?
Agreed that Rakeysh Mehra wanted to draw a parallel to Bhagat Singh et al, but shouldn’t the climax have moved away to show the difference of the eras and of the youth, then and now! I feel an intelligent comparison need not be hundred percent overlapping – though the rising could be compared but the end needed much brain which was definitely not put to use. A mature writer draws parallel, brings them to a crossroad, but from there takes it to a separate and higher denouement. And this is where the film fails, and the reason why it couldn’t touch me at all.
Another fact which irked me was Sue’s character – did Mehra really have to use a foreigner to awaken youth-conscience and youth conscious? Is this some surreptitious handshake with old British ideology that ‘it is always white man’s burden’ to take care of Indians? Sorry, Mehra – an upright Indian NGO worker could have made the point more clear and driven home the fact more scathingly – and if Mehra feels that such people don’t exist, sorry he needs to open his wider!
On the plus side – the film gives ample space to every character though it could have incorporated a bit on Soha Ali and Sharman Joshi’s background/home as well.
Performance-wise the film is a topper – Soha Ali is a huge revelation especially after her wooden acting in Dil Maange More. She slips into her character’s skin effortlessly. Sharman Joshi, Kunal Kapoor and Atul Kulkarni live their part with aplomb. Siddharth, who gets maximum footage amongst the supporting cast, is a delight to watch, especially his voice modulation was impeccable (not sure if he has done the dubbing himself!). Alice Patten, with her cute night-class Hindi, is sweet and understated. Madhavan shines in his guest appearance.
But the mother of all performances is given by veteran Waheeda Rahman in her brief but strong role as Ajay’s mother. In one scene, after her son’s death, she is shown walking towards the door – her back is towards the camera, yet her entire body language, the minor tremor, the slight limp as she walks shows a seasoned actor at work! It’s a one small shot, where she is not even facing the camera – yet, she literally walks away with all accolades!
There are some smaller but solid parts – Om Puri, Kirron Kher and Anupam Kher who do their bit fabulously.
AR Rahman’s music is good in parts, though his background score was lacking – the odd sound during Jallianwala Bagh sequence was probably meant to stir hearts, but it shook the ears more! Lata Mangeshkar’s Lukka Chhupi Bahut Hui brings a lump, and that entire sequence is very well handled (though a personal grouse will remain for editing a bulk of Lataji’s portion). Of the other songs, Mohe mohe tu rang de basanti, Paathshaala and Tu bin bataye are ok. In ‘Mohe mohe’ Mehra picks up a few leaves from Yash Chopra’s films and shows flowing mustard fields and pulsating Punjab in satiated sway – given a choice, I’d prefer the tranquil pace of ‘Aisa des hai mera’ from Veer Zaara!
I understand the film is doing very well, and I have only read praise for it – perhaps, I am getting old to enjoy these ‘youthful’ films, but once again I would leave by mentioning Swades – the patriotism, the inner journey presented in that film was far superior to RDB’s graffiti-like cocktail!
Overall: Above average
Also check out: Saba's brilliant review of the same film
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
The state of Rajasthan presents a delightful collage of vibrant colors. From the greens of Bharatpur to the pink of Jaipur to the ochre of the deserts, help
this state should be nominated as God’s own palette.
An opportunity to traverse a small slice of this rustic and splendid state presented to me yesterday. Traveling in the sturdy Ford Endeavor, we were three of us, who started the tour from Behror, a small, mid-way village between Delhi and Jaipur. From there on, we broke off civilization and the highway to course our way through ill-constructed and bumpy road towards Alwar, a town famous for its ‘maava’, a milk product.
The rains have finally opened their abundant baggage on the thirsty fields, which sway with fulsome pleasure in their dark greenery. The dotted road that cuts through the greens has not seen a proper renovation in years. Instead, the municipal corporation has fixed it in patches, resembling a beggar’s tattered dress, with black, fresh tar, sewn over the broken areas.
Like teenager’s acne, Alwar suddenly erupts out of the highway (or whatever that patchy road was). Resembling any other small town on important roots, this town also has a string of tyre, automotive spare parts and tractor shops. Shops line up like errant and ill-disciplined school children in an assembly hall, forming an irregular line. They are all small, with tin boards proclaiming their trade and shuttered. Some enterprising brand names have wormed their way in here, obviously, sensing the potential of C-class cities. We bump our way through the entire stretch of the town, passing through a couple of ‘important’ squares, and roundabouts. One such, turning to the left, leads us to the railway station, beyond which is a small outskirts village of Manduska, our object of visit here.
Manduska is much smaller than Alwar, not exactly a typical village, like Tatarpur, which we had crossed just before entering Alwar. Dusty roads, tiny shops, rickshaws, mud and people in penury greet us here.
In Rajasthan, history is there on your face, assertive and dominant. One just cannot ignore it, for the entire landscape is punctuated with forts and castles- some taken care of by the government (or the surviving generations of the royalty), others left to perish with their arcane tales buried between the solid rocks. One can only guess and imagine the purpose of a lone structure standing desolately overlooking the sprawling highway. The mountains few and far between (another of nature’s mysterious surprises of this land) are brown and dusty and dry and bear the burdens of age and barrenness. Again, they are not consistent, with their presence coming in spurts and fits. Brown, ochre and yellow are the most dominant colors of this bucolic terrain.
After Alwar, our journey brought us to many such villages, no need to list all of them- of these the most prominent was Deeg, which again has a fort, and an accompanying lake. Deeg, unfortunately, apart from its past splendor, has a more recent and current story of power, murder and conceit running through its veins. Deeg runs through a part rocky, part sandy arterial narrow road, concealing much more behind those tin-roofed kiosks and shops.
Our last stop on this route is Bharatpur- famous and well identified on the tourist map for its Bird Sanctuary. But before we reached there we had a funny misfortune. Having not taken lunch en route, we were famished by late afternoon. An alluring signboard of a sort of resort beckoned us in its inviting bright brown colors. It was two kilometers from the highway, on a small dirt track, that ended up in a small mud village, with a kind of fort looming ominously over it. The entrance to the fort was through a steep climb; even the otherwise healthy Endeavor heaved through the gradient. The fort was indeed very ominous, made of solid stone, and a huge iron gate. It looked a bit too run down to be a inhabited, thought the signboard had clearly proclaimed it to be a resort. On inspection, and our call, a dour waiter produced itself. Lunch milega, we asked expectantly. His incredulous reply was, sorry; no…you do not have a booking for lunch. With our jaws dropped, we stared at him in dumb incredulity. Booking? For Lunch? Amazing, no!
A peep into the fort confirmed our worst fears…we had pushed our luck a bit too far. The place was in ruins; I doubt any one ever came there. The setting was perfect for a shoot of a horror film.
And now on to Bharatpur…Due to the presence of the sanctuary several hotels have sprung up around it to cater to the tourist who would like to stay there overnight (Otherwise, most prefer to make it a day trip, since its 180 kms from Jaipur and only 58 kms from Agra). As in all such tourist destinations, these hotels come in all sizes and shapes and with exotic names like Bird’s Inn, Crane Crib and Peacock Hotel, etc (obviously keeping in mind the sanctuary).
During our search for a suitable place to spend the night there, we stumble upon the most unbelievable, the most unusual and the most pathetic sights of all times- at least none of us could believe our eyes, and none of us had seen it before this day…on the road to Jaipur, just a few kilometers away from the sanctuary, there is actually an open-air brothel! A few meters are lined up with huts and shanties, on both sides, and girls stand on the roadside inviting customers. The girls are decked up in loud and vulgar dresses (a cheap red color being the most favorite), with heavy red lipstick, chalky powder on the face, and a sweet, alluring but false smile on their lips, waving and calling the passing cars. Worse, this seems to be their acknowledged way of living, for routine life goes on around them as usual- old men are sitting on the cots, sleeping (drunk?) and elderly women are chatting or making dinner, or filling water, or removing lice from another’s hair; in short, remove the girls standing there, it is just another a mini-slum that one can even see in the cities now on small roadsides or alleys. It is open prostitution with a stamp of approval from their immediate society. I pity the plight of the girls born in this society (some do not look any older than thirteen years), sucked into this obscene trade for no fault of theirs, and also getting a sanction for doing so by what seemed to be their own family and relatives. If this is real India, then it certainly is not shining. I believe these girls sell their flesh for as low as five hundred rupees.
As we cross the place, my eye catches hold of an obviously more elderly lady sitting on a cot, but also in that same bright red make up. Age and men have already done their rampage on her. Yet, she invites, with her saree pallu dropped down in a futile attempt to look more sexy…but its her eyes that tell all: desperation (to get a client), hope (to get some money) and prayer (to sleep with a tummy full) all rolled together and pasted on her frustratingly facile façade. Our eyes meet, and she makes one last attempt, before I move forward in the car; I have turn back in my seat to see her; her eyes have drooped in sadness…was that a sigh that escaped her horrifyingly red lips?
(We stayed the night in Bharatpur; the next day we left for Jaipur, stopping midway at a few other villages and towns like Dausa, Sikandara- famous for its fine handiwork on soft stone- and Mahua. This journey was quite similar to the one described above, as the landscape did not change much. The Bharatpur-Jaipur highway is no better, and it was a bumpy ride again. On our way, also saw two Jackie Chan films on the VCD of the Endeavor: Thunderbolt and Spanish Connection. While the former was a bit too much of action for me to digest, the latter was quite interesting and resembled those good old sixties movies of Bollywood- with just the right dose of action, and the requisite dash of comedy and romance. Apart from this, the driver was considerate enough to play some beautiful Lata Mangeshkar numbers).
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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I admit I am not too well versed in Kalpana Lajmi’s cinema, this web
and haven’t watched any of her films barring the refreshingly honest Ek Pal. My association with her is restricted to Lata Mangeshkar’s extremely eloquent ‘Dil Hoom Hoom Kare’ from Rudaali. Hence, sick
I approached Chingaari with an open mind, and to say it left me cold is a major understatement.
Chingaari is one of those B-and-C-grade films masquerading as an art film. It is a puerile and pathetic piece of cinema that has neither the content nor flow to captivate audiences. It seems Lajmi’s intention was to shock and sensationalise the audience without any care for aesthetics or form.
The story is set in a typical North Indian village, Rangpur which has a designated red light area called Lal Batti (how unimaginative!). The gullible villagers are firmly held in tight clutches of the evil head-priest Bhuvan Panda (Mithun Chakraborty), who abuses his authority for own selfish motives. He keeps them involved in meaningless religious mumbo-jumbos instigating fear in their heart to retain his superiority over them. He uses illogical rites like making a naked virgin girl sit on his lap, while he places himself over a corpse, in order to exorcise the dead man’s evil spirit! Even though he berates prostitutes, resorting to physical and verbal abuse even if they so much as touch the Goddess’ idol inadvertently, still he has no qualms in spending the nights at their place – practicing wild, kinky and sadist sex!
One such prostitute is Basanti (Sushmita Sen), who lives with her daughter Titli, and ekes out her living in that deplorable condition.
In this murky environment enters the fresh, educated and young postman Chandan Mishra (Anuj Sawhney). Like any villager postman, he not only delivers letters, but reads them out and writes for them, and in a sense he becomes a confidante, friend and mentor to them. An unstated, muted and sublime love develops between Chadan and Basanti, cemented by his affection for the latter’s fatherless daughter! He also instigates revolt against Bhuvan Panda.
No doubt the love story between the postman and the prostitute (incidentally, the film’s original title as well) is good, and could have been a classy saga of romance, sacrifice and valor. Unfortunately, Lajmi seems to have seen too many Neha Dhupia flicks of late, hence it ends up being a loud, crass and disgusting melodrama.
The narrative moves in jerks and fits, and the screenplay is shoddy. There is no continuum in the movement, and several unwanted scenes are repetitive or too lengthy for comfort; the running time is also inordinately long; looks as if the editor just did not know his job. Sequences where the prostitutes are interacting are gross. Sushmita’s introduction scene where she instigates two colleagues fighting over a customer and urges them to use words like ‘randi’ and ‘chinaal’ is horrible.
The dialogues are crappy, peppered liberally with obscenities and profanities and are written only to evoke shock value. The climax is hilarious – Sushmita goes to the village temple with her hair flying wild, drums beating and picks up a trishul and kills Bhuvan Panda – it’s straight from those forgettable mid-eighties dacoit/revenge dramas that had infested Bollywood that time!
Production value is shoddy and camera work is tacky. The music (by Adesh Srivastava) is nothing to write home (or anywhere) about.
Sushmita Sen gives a relatively good performance, though she appears too urban to pass off as a rustic prostitute convincingly. Anuj Sawhney is adequate. But Mithun Chakraborty is too tired and haggard! Ila Arun, as the red light area’s head-madame, is ok.
The film does nothing to sensitize against the prostitute’s plight; nor does it help to lay spotlight on interior
India’s woeful condition. In the end, it’s not even good cinema. This chingaari fizzles out without lighting any fire. I hope Lajmi drops the ‘neice of Guru Dutt’ tag for the time being till she returns with a more meaningful and involving film!
Overall: Avoid
Side Notes
While on prostitutes, I read the following somewhere: during the shoot of Kalyug abroad, Deepal Shaw was mistaken for a whore by another one from the tribe there! Despite liking Shaw in that film, my overall impression of her is that – to put it very bluntly – she looks like a slut! Her music videos are largely responsible for giving that image. In the write-up that I read, Shaw narrated this incident with obvious glee. I don’t know about her, but if I were in her place, I would have taken serious offence and not publicize this fact and, more importantly, do some serious introspection!
Secondly, who is that goddamn singer who has screeched ‘Aa darr ke marr’ from Darna Zaroori Hai! It’s the most irritating, grating and awful voice I have heard in recent times. If the brief given to her was to sound sexy and scary at the same time, she has got it widely wrong! Why does Ram Gopal Verma waste money and time in recording songs which no one is going to buy? Stardust (April 2006) carries a piece on Verma’s deteriorating position in the industry. Though Stardust in itself is a gossip magazine, but still some facts are true and cannot be ignored – his films (except Sarkar) have all flopped, his proteges are deserting him and his financers are distancing themselves.
Hope Darna Zaroori Hai bails him out. I liked the first part (Darna Marna Hai) and am eagerly awaiting the release of the second one now!
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
This review was written the same day I saw the film, dermatologist
which was on 4th February. But seeing the overwhelmingly positive reactions for the film didn’t have heart to publish it. Till the time I told Anubha about its existence. She reprimanded me for not putting it up and reminded me that on my blog I had complete right to write whatever I felt. True, help
perhaps I have been playing to the gallery quite a lot, visit this
and taking ‘the popular’ tag a bit too seriously than warranted. Thanks Anubha for the reality check!
Blame it on the huge expectation – but fact is I found Rang De Basanti just about ok, a different film, but just about that. Somehow it couldn’t involve me into its narration. There were too many incoherent details which left me cold – some were minor quibbles regarding Delhi’s depiction: why the hell did Sonia (Soha Ali) take Sue via Red Fort if they were going to University from Delhi Airport? There is a much shorter and convenient route! And then, that was clearly not anywhere close to Delhi University for sure! It was India Habitat Center passed off as DU!
Even though Rakeysh Mehra struggles to deploy a conventional story telling format, he is unable to fully discard the now-standard jump-cuts and fast-track editing styles; at few crucial points these neo-modern techniques crop up horrifyingly. The post-interval lathi charge scene is one prime example. Instead of gripping the audience in a tight-fist and knocking a solid punch, he shows a collage alternating between slow-motion and hazy movements with a dull song in the background. The entire sequence’s steam, whose build-up begins with Ajay Rathod’s death, dissipates away like a pressure cooker rudely taken off the burner!
The transformation of youth doesn’t come around neatly. I kept thinking of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s Swades, and how he had handled Mohan Bhargav’s transition smoothly! Here, it is erratic and abrupt. Also, in Swades the awakening is not linked to personal tragedy, making it more sublime. Here it seems more like those eighties personal vendetta film wearing a neo-modern cloak!
The story is interesting – but the climax is very shoddy: it takes away the entire thrust of the film’s message. Here, I am not talking about the defence minister’s too-easy-to-be-true murder, which can be accorded to the director’s creative license. But it’s the death of all protagonists which I could not digest. Does the maker want to tell the youth that if they have to do something for the country they will necessarily be killed? And does it really make the nation rise in protest? Except for a few shots of some students talking to NDTV, which sounded like a storm in a teacup and extremely unconvincing, the film-maker remains stunningly silent on their action’s impact. To me, their sacrifice looked futile. Plus, where did the Commandos come from? And why?
Agreed that Rakeysh Mehra wanted to draw a parallel to Bhagat Singh et al, but shouldn’t the climax have moved away to show the difference of the eras and of the youth, then and now! I feel an intelligent comparison need not be hundred percent overlapping – though the rising could be compared but the end needed much brain which was definitely not put to use. A mature writer draws parallel, brings them to a crossroad, but from there takes it to a separate and higher denouement. And this is where the film fails, and the reason why it couldn’t touch me at all.
Another fact which irked me was Sue’s character – did Mehra really have to use a foreigner to awaken youth-conscience and youth conscious? Is this some surreptitious handshake with old British ideology that ‘it is always white man’s burden’ to take care of Indians? Sorry, Mehra – an upright Indian NGO worker could have made the point more clear and driven home the fact more scathingly – and if Mehra feels that such people don’t exist, sorry he needs to open his wider!
On the plus side – the film gives ample space to every character though it could have incorporated a bit on Soha Ali and Sharman Joshi’s background/home as well.
Performance-wise the film is a topper – Soha Ali is a huge revelation especially after her wooden acting in Dil Maange More. She slips into her character’s skin effortlessly. Sharman Joshi, Kunal Kapoor and Atul Kulkarni live their part with aplomb. Siddharth, who gets maximum footage amongst the supporting cast, is a delight to watch, especially his voice modulation was impeccable (not sure if he has done the dubbing himself!). Alice Patten, with her cute night-class Hindi, is sweet and understated. Madhavan shines in his guest appearance.
But the mother of all performances is given by veteran Waheeda Rahman in her brief but strong role as Ajay’s mother. In one scene, after her son’s death, she is shown walking towards the door – her back is towards the camera, yet her entire body language, the minor tremor, the slight limp as she walks shows a seasoned actor at work! It’s a one small shot, where she is not even facing the camera – yet, she literally walks away with all accolades!
There are some smaller but solid parts – Om Puri, Kirron Kher and Anupam Kher who do their bit fabulously.
AR Rahman’s music is good in parts, though his background score was lacking – the odd sound during Jallianwala Bagh sequence was probably meant to stir hearts, but it shook the ears more! Lata Mangeshkar’s Lukka Chhupi Bahut Hui brings a lump, and that entire sequence is very well handled (though a personal grouse will remain for editing a bulk of Lataji’s portion). Of the other songs, Mohe mohe tu rang de basanti, Paathshaala and Tu bin bataye are ok. In ‘Mohe mohe’ Mehra picks up a few leaves from Yash Chopra’s films and shows flowing mustard fields and pulsating Punjab in satiated sway – given a choice, I’d prefer the tranquil pace of ‘Aisa des hai mera’ from Veer Zaara!
I understand the film is doing very well, and I have only read praise for it – perhaps, I am getting old to enjoy these ‘youthful’ films, but once again I would leave by mentioning Swades – the patriotism, the inner journey presented in that film was far superior to RDB’s graffiti-like cocktail!
Overall: Above average
Also check out: Saba's brilliant review of the same film
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
The state of Rajasthan presents a delightful collage of vibrant colors. From the greens of Bharatpur to the pink of Jaipur to the ochre of the deserts, help
this state should be nominated as God’s own palette.
An opportunity to traverse a small slice of this rustic and splendid state presented to me yesterday. Traveling in the sturdy Ford Endeavor, we were three of us, who started the tour from Behror, a small, mid-way village between Delhi and Jaipur. From there on, we broke off civilization and the highway to course our way through ill-constructed and bumpy road towards Alwar, a town famous for its ‘maava’, a milk product.
The rains have finally opened their abundant baggage on the thirsty fields, which sway with fulsome pleasure in their dark greenery. The dotted road that cuts through the greens has not seen a proper renovation in years. Instead, the municipal corporation has fixed it in patches, resembling a beggar’s tattered dress, with black, fresh tar, sewn over the broken areas.
Like teenager’s acne, Alwar suddenly erupts out of the highway (or whatever that patchy road was). Resembling any other small town on important roots, this town also has a string of tyre, automotive spare parts and tractor shops. Shops line up like errant and ill-disciplined school children in an assembly hall, forming an irregular line. They are all small, with tin boards proclaiming their trade and shuttered. Some enterprising brand names have wormed their way in here, obviously, sensing the potential of C-class cities. We bump our way through the entire stretch of the town, passing through a couple of ‘important’ squares, and roundabouts. One such, turning to the left, leads us to the railway station, beyond which is a small outskirts village of Manduska, our object of visit here.
Manduska is much smaller than Alwar, not exactly a typical village, like Tatarpur, which we had crossed just before entering Alwar. Dusty roads, tiny shops, rickshaws, mud and people in penury greet us here.
In Rajasthan, history is there on your face, assertive and dominant. One just cannot ignore it, for the entire landscape is punctuated with forts and castles- some taken care of by the government (or the surviving generations of the royalty), others left to perish with their arcane tales buried between the solid rocks. One can only guess and imagine the purpose of a lone structure standing desolately overlooking the sprawling highway. The mountains few and far between (another of nature’s mysterious surprises of this land) are brown and dusty and dry and bear the burdens of age and barrenness. Again, they are not consistent, with their presence coming in spurts and fits. Brown, ochre and yellow are the most dominant colors of this bucolic terrain.
After Alwar, our journey brought us to many such villages, no need to list all of them- of these the most prominent was Deeg, which again has a fort, and an accompanying lake. Deeg, unfortunately, apart from its past splendor, has a more recent and current story of power, murder and conceit running through its veins. Deeg runs through a part rocky, part sandy arterial narrow road, concealing much more behind those tin-roofed kiosks and shops.
Our last stop on this route is Bharatpur- famous and well identified on the tourist map for its Bird Sanctuary. But before we reached there we had a funny misfortune. Having not taken lunch en route, we were famished by late afternoon. An alluring signboard of a sort of resort beckoned us in its inviting bright brown colors. It was two kilometers from the highway, on a small dirt track, that ended up in a small mud village, with a kind of fort looming ominously over it. The entrance to the fort was through a steep climb; even the otherwise healthy Endeavor heaved through the gradient. The fort was indeed very ominous, made of solid stone, and a huge iron gate. It looked a bit too run down to be a inhabited, thought the signboard had clearly proclaimed it to be a resort. On inspection, and our call, a dour waiter produced itself. Lunch milega, we asked expectantly. His incredulous reply was, sorry; no…you do not have a booking for lunch. With our jaws dropped, we stared at him in dumb incredulity. Booking? For Lunch? Amazing, no!
A peep into the fort confirmed our worst fears…we had pushed our luck a bit too far. The place was in ruins; I doubt any one ever came there. The setting was perfect for a shoot of a horror film.
And now on to Bharatpur…Due to the presence of the sanctuary several hotels have sprung up around it to cater to the tourist who would like to stay there overnight (Otherwise, most prefer to make it a day trip, since its 180 kms from Jaipur and only 58 kms from Agra). As in all such tourist destinations, these hotels come in all sizes and shapes and with exotic names like Bird’s Inn, Crane Crib and Peacock Hotel, etc (obviously keeping in mind the sanctuary).
During our search for a suitable place to spend the night there, we stumble upon the most unbelievable, the most unusual and the most pathetic sights of all times- at least none of us could believe our eyes, and none of us had seen it before this day…on the road to Jaipur, just a few kilometers away from the sanctuary, there is actually an open-air brothel! A few meters are lined up with huts and shanties, on both sides, and girls stand on the roadside inviting customers. The girls are decked up in loud and vulgar dresses (a cheap red color being the most favorite), with heavy red lipstick, chalky powder on the face, and a sweet, alluring but false smile on their lips, waving and calling the passing cars. Worse, this seems to be their acknowledged way of living, for routine life goes on around them as usual- old men are sitting on the cots, sleeping (drunk?) and elderly women are chatting or making dinner, or filling water, or removing lice from another’s hair; in short, remove the girls standing there, it is just another a mini-slum that one can even see in the cities now on small roadsides or alleys. It is open prostitution with a stamp of approval from their immediate society. I pity the plight of the girls born in this society (some do not look any older than thirteen years), sucked into this obscene trade for no fault of theirs, and also getting a sanction for doing so by what seemed to be their own family and relatives. If this is real India, then it certainly is not shining. I believe these girls sell their flesh for as low as five hundred rupees.
As we cross the place, my eye catches hold of an obviously more elderly lady sitting on a cot, but also in that same bright red make up. Age and men have already done their rampage on her. Yet, she invites, with her saree pallu dropped down in a futile attempt to look more sexy…but its her eyes that tell all: desperation (to get a client), hope (to get some money) and prayer (to sleep with a tummy full) all rolled together and pasted on her frustratingly facile façade. Our eyes meet, and she makes one last attempt, before I move forward in the car; I have turn back in my seat to see her; her eyes have drooped in sadness…was that a sigh that escaped her horrifyingly red lips?
(We stayed the night in Bharatpur; the next day we left for Jaipur, stopping midway at a few other villages and towns like Dausa, Sikandara- famous for its fine handiwork on soft stone- and Mahua. This journey was quite similar to the one described above, as the landscape did not change much. The Bharatpur-Jaipur highway is no better, and it was a bumpy ride again. On our way, also saw two Jackie Chan films on the VCD of the Endeavor: Thunderbolt and Spanish Connection. While the former was a bit too much of action for me to digest, the latter was quite interesting and resembled those good old sixties movies of Bollywood- with just the right dose of action, and the requisite dash of comedy and romance. Apart from this, the driver was considerate enough to play some beautiful Lata Mangeshkar numbers).
I don’t know how far it is true, malady but I speak from my personal experience – separating a man from his moustaches is quite an impossible task. Hrishikesh Mukherjee built an entire comedy revolving around mouches – remember Golmaal? And Utpal Dutt’s indignant stand – munch nahin toh mard nahin! I sport one. But unlike Utpal Dutt in the film, physician I do not twirl any morality into them; but yes, it seems without them I would be not complete.
Love for moustaches is not hereditary. Even if it is, then I am that perfect exception which always exists in every theory. My father does not sport one, neither did my grandfathers (both sides), none of my mamas, and not my chachas. Yet, as far as I recall I always wanted to have one. I am not sure where the influence came from.
Once the down was established, I never had the courage to remove it. Earlier my mother would often jokingly ask me to remove it, at least to see how I look clean-shaven. But the very thought would send a cold shiver down my spine. The only time I shaved it off was way back in college – that entire week I felt I was roaming naked. After that, I have never attempted. Plus, Lamhe released, and I viewed Anil Kapoor’s stiff upper lip in the first half, painfully aware at his obvious discomfort – while viewing the film, I patted my mouche lovingly – no baby, I am not murdering you ever! Few years later, King Uncle came. There was an entire parody based on Anu Aggarwal trying to get Jackie to trim off his weirdly shaped mouche. Even though I don’t have that horrendous shape, still I payed close attention to the song.
Just in case the girls are feeling left out, let me say it’s quite similar to having your long hair chopped off. I remember the pangs my sister went through when she went in for a new, short hair-style. That furthered my resolve – I wouldn’t subject myself to this mental agony!
Years passed, and off and on I did get the arrant urge off and on to do something drastic; but always controlled these wild thoughts. During these years, I would look with envy and awe at people who could regularly experiment with their face. My elder brother-in-law is one such person – he has tried everything: mustaches, clean-shaven, French beard, full beard – in short, the full works! My younger brother-in-law deserted his mouche, and never returned back to it. His reasoning – too much white hair peeping out there!
On my part I just saw them in mute admiration for their guts, secretly hoping some day I will be brave enough. The maximum I did was to trim off the thick eighties South Indian-film-hero-style bushy crop to a sophisticated slim one; sometimes using the scissor to such effect that it is barely visible. But never went full monty over my upper lip! Thankfully, white hairs (which are quite in abundance over the scalp) have not made their detrimental foray into my mouche!
Before coming to Nepal I had thought of doing so. It’s much easier if you go with a new look to a new place; at least, no one will walk up to you and peer into your face as if you are some exotic animal just escaped from the zoo! But, no – I couldn’t bring myself to it!
Today morning, while shaving, I had that animalistic strong urge again to wipe off the face clean. But as ever, in some innate defence mechanism, the heart beat shot up, the hand trembled, the mouth went dry and the razor looked menacingly but couldn’t complete its act. Before this primeval instinct betrayed me, hastily I moved away from the wash-basin.
But yes, someday I am going to do get over this fear. Also, these days clean-shaven look seems to be in-fashion. When I was growing up, it was the other way round. So, I guess I should be up-to-date with times. Will keep you and this blog posted the day I do ‘the act’!
[As of now, done nothing with the mouche- DJ, April ’06]
[re-posted with ecto]
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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I admit I am not too well versed in Kalpana Lajmi’s cinema, this web
and haven’t watched any of her films barring the refreshingly honest Ek Pal. My association with her is restricted to Lata Mangeshkar’s extremely eloquent ‘Dil Hoom Hoom Kare’ from Rudaali. Hence, sick
I approached Chingaari with an open mind, and to say it left me cold is a major understatement.
Chingaari is one of those B-and-C-grade films masquerading as an art film. It is a puerile and pathetic piece of cinema that has neither the content nor flow to captivate audiences. It seems Lajmi’s intention was to shock and sensationalise the audience without any care for aesthetics or form.
The story is set in a typical North Indian village, Rangpur which has a designated red light area called Lal Batti (how unimaginative!). The gullible villagers are firmly held in tight clutches of the evil head-priest Bhuvan Panda (Mithun Chakraborty), who abuses his authority for own selfish motives. He keeps them involved in meaningless religious mumbo-jumbos instigating fear in their heart to retain his superiority over them. He uses illogical rites like making a naked virgin girl sit on his lap, while he places himself over a corpse, in order to exorcise the dead man’s evil spirit! Even though he berates prostitutes, resorting to physical and verbal abuse even if they so much as touch the Goddess’ idol inadvertently, still he has no qualms in spending the nights at their place – practicing wild, kinky and sadist sex!
One such prostitute is Basanti (Sushmita Sen), who lives with her daughter Titli, and ekes out her living in that deplorable condition.
In this murky environment enters the fresh, educated and young postman Chandan Mishra (Anuj Sawhney). Like any villager postman, he not only delivers letters, but reads them out and writes for them, and in a sense he becomes a confidante, friend and mentor to them. An unstated, muted and sublime love develops between Chadan and Basanti, cemented by his affection for the latter’s fatherless daughter! He also instigates revolt against Bhuvan Panda.
No doubt the love story between the postman and the prostitute (incidentally, the film’s original title as well) is good, and could have been a classy saga of romance, sacrifice and valor. Unfortunately, Lajmi seems to have seen too many Neha Dhupia flicks of late, hence it ends up being a loud, crass and disgusting melodrama.
The narrative moves in jerks and fits, and the screenplay is shoddy. There is no continuum in the movement, and several unwanted scenes are repetitive or too lengthy for comfort; the running time is also inordinately long; looks as if the editor just did not know his job. Sequences where the prostitutes are interacting are gross. Sushmita’s introduction scene where she instigates two colleagues fighting over a customer and urges them to use words like ‘randi’ and ‘chinaal’ is horrible.
The dialogues are crappy, peppered liberally with obscenities and profanities and are written only to evoke shock value. The climax is hilarious – Sushmita goes to the village temple with her hair flying wild, drums beating and picks up a trishul and kills Bhuvan Panda – it’s straight from those forgettable mid-eighties dacoit/revenge dramas that had infested Bollywood that time!
Production value is shoddy and camera work is tacky. The music (by Adesh Srivastava) is nothing to write home (or anywhere) about.
Sushmita Sen gives a relatively good performance, though she appears too urban to pass off as a rustic prostitute convincingly. Anuj Sawhney is adequate. But Mithun Chakraborty is too tired and haggard! Ila Arun, as the red light area’s head-madame, is ok.
The film does nothing to sensitize against the prostitute’s plight; nor does it help to lay spotlight on interior
India’s woeful condition. In the end, it’s not even good cinema. This chingaari fizzles out without lighting any fire. I hope Lajmi drops the ‘neice of Guru Dutt’ tag for the time being till she returns with a more meaningful and involving film!
Overall: Avoid
Side Notes
While on prostitutes, I read the following somewhere: during the shoot of Kalyug abroad, Deepal Shaw was mistaken for a whore by another one from the tribe there! Despite liking Shaw in that film, my overall impression of her is that – to put it very bluntly – she looks like a slut! Her music videos are largely responsible for giving that image. In the write-up that I read, Shaw narrated this incident with obvious glee. I don’t know about her, but if I were in her place, I would have taken serious offence and not publicize this fact and, more importantly, do some serious introspection!
Secondly, who is that goddamn singer who has screeched ‘Aa darr ke marr’ from Darna Zaroori Hai! It’s the most irritating, grating and awful voice I have heard in recent times. If the brief given to her was to sound sexy and scary at the same time, she has got it widely wrong! Why does Ram Gopal Verma waste money and time in recording songs which no one is going to buy? Stardust (April 2006) carries a piece on Verma’s deteriorating position in the industry. Though Stardust in itself is a gossip magazine, but still some facts are true and cannot be ignored – his films (except Sarkar) have all flopped, his proteges are deserting him and his financers are distancing themselves.
Hope Darna Zaroori Hai bails him out. I liked the first part (Darna Marna Hai) and am eagerly awaiting the release of the second one now!
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
This review was written the same day I saw the film, dermatologist
which was on 4th February. But seeing the overwhelmingly positive reactions for the film didn’t have heart to publish it. Till the time I told Anubha about its existence. She reprimanded me for not putting it up and reminded me that on my blog I had complete right to write whatever I felt. True, help
perhaps I have been playing to the gallery quite a lot, visit this
and taking ‘the popular’ tag a bit too seriously than warranted. Thanks Anubha for the reality check!
Blame it on the huge expectation – but fact is I found Rang De Basanti just about ok, a different film, but just about that. Somehow it couldn’t involve me into its narration. There were too many incoherent details which left me cold – some were minor quibbles regarding Delhi’s depiction: why the hell did Sonia (Soha Ali) take Sue via Red Fort if they were going to University from Delhi Airport? There is a much shorter and convenient route! And then, that was clearly not anywhere close to Delhi University for sure! It was India Habitat Center passed off as DU!
Even though Rakeysh Mehra struggles to deploy a conventional story telling format, he is unable to fully discard the now-standard jump-cuts and fast-track editing styles; at few crucial points these neo-modern techniques crop up horrifyingly. The post-interval lathi charge scene is one prime example. Instead of gripping the audience in a tight-fist and knocking a solid punch, he shows a collage alternating between slow-motion and hazy movements with a dull song in the background. The entire sequence’s steam, whose build-up begins with Ajay Rathod’s death, dissipates away like a pressure cooker rudely taken off the burner!
The transformation of youth doesn’t come around neatly. I kept thinking of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s Swades, and how he had handled Mohan Bhargav’s transition smoothly! Here, it is erratic and abrupt. Also, in Swades the awakening is not linked to personal tragedy, making it more sublime. Here it seems more like those eighties personal vendetta film wearing a neo-modern cloak!
The story is interesting – but the climax is very shoddy: it takes away the entire thrust of the film’s message. Here, I am not talking about the defence minister’s too-easy-to-be-true murder, which can be accorded to the director’s creative license. But it’s the death of all protagonists which I could not digest. Does the maker want to tell the youth that if they have to do something for the country they will necessarily be killed? And does it really make the nation rise in protest? Except for a few shots of some students talking to NDTV, which sounded like a storm in a teacup and extremely unconvincing, the film-maker remains stunningly silent on their action’s impact. To me, their sacrifice looked futile. Plus, where did the Commandos come from? And why?
Agreed that Rakeysh Mehra wanted to draw a parallel to Bhagat Singh et al, but shouldn’t the climax have moved away to show the difference of the eras and of the youth, then and now! I feel an intelligent comparison need not be hundred percent overlapping – though the rising could be compared but the end needed much brain which was definitely not put to use. A mature writer draws parallel, brings them to a crossroad, but from there takes it to a separate and higher denouement. And this is where the film fails, and the reason why it couldn’t touch me at all.
Another fact which irked me was Sue’s character – did Mehra really have to use a foreigner to awaken youth-conscience and youth conscious? Is this some surreptitious handshake with old British ideology that ‘it is always white man’s burden’ to take care of Indians? Sorry, Mehra – an upright Indian NGO worker could have made the point more clear and driven home the fact more scathingly – and if Mehra feels that such people don’t exist, sorry he needs to open his wider!
On the plus side – the film gives ample space to every character though it could have incorporated a bit on Soha Ali and Sharman Joshi’s background/home as well.
Performance-wise the film is a topper – Soha Ali is a huge revelation especially after her wooden acting in Dil Maange More. She slips into her character’s skin effortlessly. Sharman Joshi, Kunal Kapoor and Atul Kulkarni live their part with aplomb. Siddharth, who gets maximum footage amongst the supporting cast, is a delight to watch, especially his voice modulation was impeccable (not sure if he has done the dubbing himself!). Alice Patten, with her cute night-class Hindi, is sweet and understated. Madhavan shines in his guest appearance.
But the mother of all performances is given by veteran Waheeda Rahman in her brief but strong role as Ajay’s mother. In one scene, after her son’s death, she is shown walking towards the door – her back is towards the camera, yet her entire body language, the minor tremor, the slight limp as she walks shows a seasoned actor at work! It’s a one small shot, where she is not even facing the camera – yet, she literally walks away with all accolades!
There are some smaller but solid parts – Om Puri, Kirron Kher and Anupam Kher who do their bit fabulously.
AR Rahman’s music is good in parts, though his background score was lacking – the odd sound during Jallianwala Bagh sequence was probably meant to stir hearts, but it shook the ears more! Lata Mangeshkar’s Lukka Chhupi Bahut Hui brings a lump, and that entire sequence is very well handled (though a personal grouse will remain for editing a bulk of Lataji’s portion). Of the other songs, Mohe mohe tu rang de basanti, Paathshaala and Tu bin bataye are ok. In ‘Mohe mohe’ Mehra picks up a few leaves from Yash Chopra’s films and shows flowing mustard fields and pulsating Punjab in satiated sway – given a choice, I’d prefer the tranquil pace of ‘Aisa des hai mera’ from Veer Zaara!
I understand the film is doing very well, and I have only read praise for it – perhaps, I am getting old to enjoy these ‘youthful’ films, but once again I would leave by mentioning Swades – the patriotism, the inner journey presented in that film was far superior to RDB’s graffiti-like cocktail!
Overall: Above average
Also check out: Saba's brilliant review of the same film
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
The state of Rajasthan presents a delightful collage of vibrant colors. From the greens of Bharatpur to the pink of Jaipur to the ochre of the deserts, help
this state should be nominated as God’s own palette.
An opportunity to traverse a small slice of this rustic and splendid state presented to me yesterday. Traveling in the sturdy Ford Endeavor, we were three of us, who started the tour from Behror, a small, mid-way village between Delhi and Jaipur. From there on, we broke off civilization and the highway to course our way through ill-constructed and bumpy road towards Alwar, a town famous for its ‘maava’, a milk product.
The rains have finally opened their abundant baggage on the thirsty fields, which sway with fulsome pleasure in their dark greenery. The dotted road that cuts through the greens has not seen a proper renovation in years. Instead, the municipal corporation has fixed it in patches, resembling a beggar’s tattered dress, with black, fresh tar, sewn over the broken areas.
Like teenager’s acne, Alwar suddenly erupts out of the highway (or whatever that patchy road was). Resembling any other small town on important roots, this town also has a string of tyre, automotive spare parts and tractor shops. Shops line up like errant and ill-disciplined school children in an assembly hall, forming an irregular line. They are all small, with tin boards proclaiming their trade and shuttered. Some enterprising brand names have wormed their way in here, obviously, sensing the potential of C-class cities. We bump our way through the entire stretch of the town, passing through a couple of ‘important’ squares, and roundabouts. One such, turning to the left, leads us to the railway station, beyond which is a small outskirts village of Manduska, our object of visit here.
Manduska is much smaller than Alwar, not exactly a typical village, like Tatarpur, which we had crossed just before entering Alwar. Dusty roads, tiny shops, rickshaws, mud and people in penury greet us here.
In Rajasthan, history is there on your face, assertive and dominant. One just cannot ignore it, for the entire landscape is punctuated with forts and castles- some taken care of by the government (or the surviving generations of the royalty), others left to perish with their arcane tales buried between the solid rocks. One can only guess and imagine the purpose of a lone structure standing desolately overlooking the sprawling highway. The mountains few and far between (another of nature’s mysterious surprises of this land) are brown and dusty and dry and bear the burdens of age and barrenness. Again, they are not consistent, with their presence coming in spurts and fits. Brown, ochre and yellow are the most dominant colors of this bucolic terrain.
After Alwar, our journey brought us to many such villages, no need to list all of them- of these the most prominent was Deeg, which again has a fort, and an accompanying lake. Deeg, unfortunately, apart from its past splendor, has a more recent and current story of power, murder and conceit running through its veins. Deeg runs through a part rocky, part sandy arterial narrow road, concealing much more behind those tin-roofed kiosks and shops.
Our last stop on this route is Bharatpur- famous and well identified on the tourist map for its Bird Sanctuary. But before we reached there we had a funny misfortune. Having not taken lunch en route, we were famished by late afternoon. An alluring signboard of a sort of resort beckoned us in its inviting bright brown colors. It was two kilometers from the highway, on a small dirt track, that ended up in a small mud village, with a kind of fort looming ominously over it. The entrance to the fort was through a steep climb; even the otherwise healthy Endeavor heaved through the gradient. The fort was indeed very ominous, made of solid stone, and a huge iron gate. It looked a bit too run down to be a inhabited, thought the signboard had clearly proclaimed it to be a resort. On inspection, and our call, a dour waiter produced itself. Lunch milega, we asked expectantly. His incredulous reply was, sorry; no…you do not have a booking for lunch. With our jaws dropped, we stared at him in dumb incredulity. Booking? For Lunch? Amazing, no!
A peep into the fort confirmed our worst fears…we had pushed our luck a bit too far. The place was in ruins; I doubt any one ever came there. The setting was perfect for a shoot of a horror film.
And now on to Bharatpur…Due to the presence of the sanctuary several hotels have sprung up around it to cater to the tourist who would like to stay there overnight (Otherwise, most prefer to make it a day trip, since its 180 kms from Jaipur and only 58 kms from Agra). As in all such tourist destinations, these hotels come in all sizes and shapes and with exotic names like Bird’s Inn, Crane Crib and Peacock Hotel, etc (obviously keeping in mind the sanctuary).
During our search for a suitable place to spend the night there, we stumble upon the most unbelievable, the most unusual and the most pathetic sights of all times- at least none of us could believe our eyes, and none of us had seen it before this day…on the road to Jaipur, just a few kilometers away from the sanctuary, there is actually an open-air brothel! A few meters are lined up with huts and shanties, on both sides, and girls stand on the roadside inviting customers. The girls are decked up in loud and vulgar dresses (a cheap red color being the most favorite), with heavy red lipstick, chalky powder on the face, and a sweet, alluring but false smile on their lips, waving and calling the passing cars. Worse, this seems to be their acknowledged way of living, for routine life goes on around them as usual- old men are sitting on the cots, sleeping (drunk?) and elderly women are chatting or making dinner, or filling water, or removing lice from another’s hair; in short, remove the girls standing there, it is just another a mini-slum that one can even see in the cities now on small roadsides or alleys. It is open prostitution with a stamp of approval from their immediate society. I pity the plight of the girls born in this society (some do not look any older than thirteen years), sucked into this obscene trade for no fault of theirs, and also getting a sanction for doing so by what seemed to be their own family and relatives. If this is real India, then it certainly is not shining. I believe these girls sell their flesh for as low as five hundred rupees.
As we cross the place, my eye catches hold of an obviously more elderly lady sitting on a cot, but also in that same bright red make up. Age and men have already done their rampage on her. Yet, she invites, with her saree pallu dropped down in a futile attempt to look more sexy…but its her eyes that tell all: desperation (to get a client), hope (to get some money) and prayer (to sleep with a tummy full) all rolled together and pasted on her frustratingly facile façade. Our eyes meet, and she makes one last attempt, before I move forward in the car; I have turn back in my seat to see her; her eyes have drooped in sadness…was that a sigh that escaped her horrifyingly red lips?
(We stayed the night in Bharatpur; the next day we left for Jaipur, stopping midway at a few other villages and towns like Dausa, Sikandara- famous for its fine handiwork on soft stone- and Mahua. This journey was quite similar to the one described above, as the landscape did not change much. The Bharatpur-Jaipur highway is no better, and it was a bumpy ride again. On our way, also saw two Jackie Chan films on the VCD of the Endeavor: Thunderbolt and Spanish Connection. While the former was a bit too much of action for me to digest, the latter was quite interesting and resembled those good old sixties movies of Bollywood- with just the right dose of action, and the requisite dash of comedy and romance. Apart from this, the driver was considerate enough to play some beautiful Lata Mangeshkar numbers).
I don’t know how far it is true, malady but I speak from my personal experience – separating a man from his moustaches is quite an impossible task. Hrishikesh Mukherjee built an entire comedy revolving around mouches – remember Golmaal? And Utpal Dutt’s indignant stand – munch nahin toh mard nahin! I sport one. But unlike Utpal Dutt in the film, physician I do not twirl any morality into them; but yes, it seems without them I would be not complete.
Love for moustaches is not hereditary. Even if it is, then I am that perfect exception which always exists in every theory. My father does not sport one, neither did my grandfathers (both sides), none of my mamas, and not my chachas. Yet, as far as I recall I always wanted to have one. I am not sure where the influence came from.
Once the down was established, I never had the courage to remove it. Earlier my mother would often jokingly ask me to remove it, at least to see how I look clean-shaven. But the very thought would send a cold shiver down my spine. The only time I shaved it off was way back in college – that entire week I felt I was roaming naked. After that, I have never attempted. Plus, Lamhe released, and I viewed Anil Kapoor’s stiff upper lip in the first half, painfully aware at his obvious discomfort – while viewing the film, I patted my mouche lovingly – no baby, I am not murdering you ever! Few years later, King Uncle came. There was an entire parody based on Anu Aggarwal trying to get Jackie to trim off his weirdly shaped mouche. Even though I don’t have that horrendous shape, still I payed close attention to the song.
Just in case the girls are feeling left out, let me say it’s quite similar to having your long hair chopped off. I remember the pangs my sister went through when she went in for a new, short hair-style. That furthered my resolve – I wouldn’t subject myself to this mental agony!
Years passed, and off and on I did get the arrant urge off and on to do something drastic; but always controlled these wild thoughts. During these years, I would look with envy and awe at people who could regularly experiment with their face. My elder brother-in-law is one such person – he has tried everything: mustaches, clean-shaven, French beard, full beard – in short, the full works! My younger brother-in-law deserted his mouche, and never returned back to it. His reasoning – too much white hair peeping out there!
On my part I just saw them in mute admiration for their guts, secretly hoping some day I will be brave enough. The maximum I did was to trim off the thick eighties South Indian-film-hero-style bushy crop to a sophisticated slim one; sometimes using the scissor to such effect that it is barely visible. But never went full monty over my upper lip! Thankfully, white hairs (which are quite in abundance over the scalp) have not made their detrimental foray into my mouche!
Before coming to Nepal I had thought of doing so. It’s much easier if you go with a new look to a new place; at least, no one will walk up to you and peer into your face as if you are some exotic animal just escaped from the zoo! But, no – I couldn’t bring myself to it!
Today morning, while shaving, I had that animalistic strong urge again to wipe off the face clean. But as ever, in some innate defence mechanism, the heart beat shot up, the hand trembled, the mouth went dry and the razor looked menacingly but couldn’t complete its act. Before this primeval instinct betrayed me, hastily I moved away from the wash-basin.
But yes, someday I am going to do get over this fear. Also, these days clean-shaven look seems to be in-fashion. When I was growing up, it was the other way round. So, I guess I should be up-to-date with times. Will keep you and this blog posted the day I do ‘the act’!
[As of now, done nothing with the mouche- DJ, April ’06]
[re-posted with ecto]
Shifting back is a tedious process. While coming here things were easy. Initially, ed there were a series of India-visits and I got all the stuff I required slowly and steadily. Plus, over the months I purchased other useful items here. But going back, means packing them all up in one single go. Thankfully, since the decision was taken I had taken few stuff back last time. However, I realise now that the ‘few’ stuff was precisely that only – few! A large bulk remained, and I am at my wits ends getting them all packed or disposing them off.
Employing a packing agency is almost impossible at this short a notice. In any case, I don’t have that many things which would justify employing one. One more issue is that though the agitation has ceased, there is still a districts-wide blockade by Maoists, so I can never be sure when my goods will reach if I send them through road using a packing agent.
Worse, the nineteen-days agitation/curfews meant that I couldn’t move around to complete pending jobs. Some of them were crucial, and involved monetary refunds – mobile connection , internet connection, gas etc. It all opened up yesterday, and I am buried under an avalanche of things to complete. To add to the troubles, the lap-top will also go very shortly, and I am struggling to get personal files out from there, which include a mammoth 2 GB worth of songs, some of them rare Lata Mangeshkar numbers. Woefully, the CD drive has gone for a toss and I can’t store them on discs. I have to find ways of taking them out, and fast at that! Any good suggestion is most welcome!
If that wasn’t enough, then I suddenly got a call from my organisation to return two days earlier, which catapulted the entire process into a dizzying orbit of confusion.
Today’s horoscope in The Himalayan Times seems uncannily true:
A whirlwind surrounds you. You find that plans change. A new friend could appear on the scene. You could be delighted by what a simple call draws. Socialize, reach out for others. Tonight: Meet a friend!
I don’t know about the last part, since the day has yet to unfold completely. But the first two sentences are bang on. Hell, why didn’t I pay attention to these horoscopes earlier!
Anyways, I shall take leave now. For those visiting from previous Random Expressions, warm welcome; for new readers, welcome aboard! This is not a formal launch as yet. That I will do only when I am back in India.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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I admit I am not too well versed in Kalpana Lajmi’s cinema, this web
and haven’t watched any of her films barring the refreshingly honest Ek Pal. My association with her is restricted to Lata Mangeshkar’s extremely eloquent ‘Dil Hoom Hoom Kare’ from Rudaali. Hence, sick
I approached Chingaari with an open mind, and to say it left me cold is a major understatement.
Chingaari is one of those B-and-C-grade films masquerading as an art film. It is a puerile and pathetic piece of cinema that has neither the content nor flow to captivate audiences. It seems Lajmi’s intention was to shock and sensationalise the audience without any care for aesthetics or form.
The story is set in a typical North Indian village, Rangpur which has a designated red light area called Lal Batti (how unimaginative!). The gullible villagers are firmly held in tight clutches of the evil head-priest Bhuvan Panda (Mithun Chakraborty), who abuses his authority for own selfish motives. He keeps them involved in meaningless religious mumbo-jumbos instigating fear in their heart to retain his superiority over them. He uses illogical rites like making a naked virgin girl sit on his lap, while he places himself over a corpse, in order to exorcise the dead man’s evil spirit! Even though he berates prostitutes, resorting to physical and verbal abuse even if they so much as touch the Goddess’ idol inadvertently, still he has no qualms in spending the nights at their place – practicing wild, kinky and sadist sex!
One such prostitute is Basanti (Sushmita Sen), who lives with her daughter Titli, and ekes out her living in that deplorable condition.
In this murky environment enters the fresh, educated and young postman Chandan Mishra (Anuj Sawhney). Like any villager postman, he not only delivers letters, but reads them out and writes for them, and in a sense he becomes a confidante, friend and mentor to them. An unstated, muted and sublime love develops between Chadan and Basanti, cemented by his affection for the latter’s fatherless daughter! He also instigates revolt against Bhuvan Panda.
No doubt the love story between the postman and the prostitute (incidentally, the film’s original title as well) is good, and could have been a classy saga of romance, sacrifice and valor. Unfortunately, Lajmi seems to have seen too many Neha Dhupia flicks of late, hence it ends up being a loud, crass and disgusting melodrama.
The narrative moves in jerks and fits, and the screenplay is shoddy. There is no continuum in the movement, and several unwanted scenes are repetitive or too lengthy for comfort; the running time is also inordinately long; looks as if the editor just did not know his job. Sequences where the prostitutes are interacting are gross. Sushmita’s introduction scene where she instigates two colleagues fighting over a customer and urges them to use words like ‘randi’ and ‘chinaal’ is horrible.
The dialogues are crappy, peppered liberally with obscenities and profanities and are written only to evoke shock value. The climax is hilarious – Sushmita goes to the village temple with her hair flying wild, drums beating and picks up a trishul and kills Bhuvan Panda – it’s straight from those forgettable mid-eighties dacoit/revenge dramas that had infested Bollywood that time!
Production value is shoddy and camera work is tacky. The music (by Adesh Srivastava) is nothing to write home (or anywhere) about.
Sushmita Sen gives a relatively good performance, though she appears too urban to pass off as a rustic prostitute convincingly. Anuj Sawhney is adequate. But Mithun Chakraborty is too tired and haggard! Ila Arun, as the red light area’s head-madame, is ok.
The film does nothing to sensitize against the prostitute’s plight; nor does it help to lay spotlight on interior
India’s woeful condition. In the end, it’s not even good cinema. This chingaari fizzles out without lighting any fire. I hope Lajmi drops the ‘neice of Guru Dutt’ tag for the time being till she returns with a more meaningful and involving film!
Overall: Avoid
Side Notes
While on prostitutes, I read the following somewhere: during the shoot of Kalyug abroad, Deepal Shaw was mistaken for a whore by another one from the tribe there! Despite liking Shaw in that film, my overall impression of her is that – to put it very bluntly – she looks like a slut! Her music videos are largely responsible for giving that image. In the write-up that I read, Shaw narrated this incident with obvious glee. I don’t know about her, but if I were in her place, I would have taken serious offence and not publicize this fact and, more importantly, do some serious introspection!
Secondly, who is that goddamn singer who has screeched ‘Aa darr ke marr’ from Darna Zaroori Hai! It’s the most irritating, grating and awful voice I have heard in recent times. If the brief given to her was to sound sexy and scary at the same time, she has got it widely wrong! Why does Ram Gopal Verma waste money and time in recording songs which no one is going to buy? Stardust (April 2006) carries a piece on Verma’s deteriorating position in the industry. Though Stardust in itself is a gossip magazine, but still some facts are true and cannot be ignored – his films (except Sarkar) have all flopped, his proteges are deserting him and his financers are distancing themselves.
Hope Darna Zaroori Hai bails him out. I liked the first part (Darna Marna Hai) and am eagerly awaiting the release of the second one now!
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
This review was written the same day I saw the film, dermatologist
which was on 4th February. But seeing the overwhelmingly positive reactions for the film didn’t have heart to publish it. Till the time I told Anubha about its existence. She reprimanded me for not putting it up and reminded me that on my blog I had complete right to write whatever I felt. True, help
perhaps I have been playing to the gallery quite a lot, visit this
and taking ‘the popular’ tag a bit too seriously than warranted. Thanks Anubha for the reality check!
Blame it on the huge expectation – but fact is I found Rang De Basanti just about ok, a different film, but just about that. Somehow it couldn’t involve me into its narration. There were too many incoherent details which left me cold – some were minor quibbles regarding Delhi’s depiction: why the hell did Sonia (Soha Ali) take Sue via Red Fort if they were going to University from Delhi Airport? There is a much shorter and convenient route! And then, that was clearly not anywhere close to Delhi University for sure! It was India Habitat Center passed off as DU!
Even though Rakeysh Mehra struggles to deploy a conventional story telling format, he is unable to fully discard the now-standard jump-cuts and fast-track editing styles; at few crucial points these neo-modern techniques crop up horrifyingly. The post-interval lathi charge scene is one prime example. Instead of gripping the audience in a tight-fist and knocking a solid punch, he shows a collage alternating between slow-motion and hazy movements with a dull song in the background. The entire sequence’s steam, whose build-up begins with Ajay Rathod’s death, dissipates away like a pressure cooker rudely taken off the burner!
The transformation of youth doesn’t come around neatly. I kept thinking of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s Swades, and how he had handled Mohan Bhargav’s transition smoothly! Here, it is erratic and abrupt. Also, in Swades the awakening is not linked to personal tragedy, making it more sublime. Here it seems more like those eighties personal vendetta film wearing a neo-modern cloak!
The story is interesting – but the climax is very shoddy: it takes away the entire thrust of the film’s message. Here, I am not talking about the defence minister’s too-easy-to-be-true murder, which can be accorded to the director’s creative license. But it’s the death of all protagonists which I could not digest. Does the maker want to tell the youth that if they have to do something for the country they will necessarily be killed? And does it really make the nation rise in protest? Except for a few shots of some students talking to NDTV, which sounded like a storm in a teacup and extremely unconvincing, the film-maker remains stunningly silent on their action’s impact. To me, their sacrifice looked futile. Plus, where did the Commandos come from? And why?
Agreed that Rakeysh Mehra wanted to draw a parallel to Bhagat Singh et al, but shouldn’t the climax have moved away to show the difference of the eras and of the youth, then and now! I feel an intelligent comparison need not be hundred percent overlapping – though the rising could be compared but the end needed much brain which was definitely not put to use. A mature writer draws parallel, brings them to a crossroad, but from there takes it to a separate and higher denouement. And this is where the film fails, and the reason why it couldn’t touch me at all.
Another fact which irked me was Sue’s character – did Mehra really have to use a foreigner to awaken youth-conscience and youth conscious? Is this some surreptitious handshake with old British ideology that ‘it is always white man’s burden’ to take care of Indians? Sorry, Mehra – an upright Indian NGO worker could have made the point more clear and driven home the fact more scathingly – and if Mehra feels that such people don’t exist, sorry he needs to open his wider!
On the plus side – the film gives ample space to every character though it could have incorporated a bit on Soha Ali and Sharman Joshi’s background/home as well.
Performance-wise the film is a topper – Soha Ali is a huge revelation especially after her wooden acting in Dil Maange More. She slips into her character’s skin effortlessly. Sharman Joshi, Kunal Kapoor and Atul Kulkarni live their part with aplomb. Siddharth, who gets maximum footage amongst the supporting cast, is a delight to watch, especially his voice modulation was impeccable (not sure if he has done the dubbing himself!). Alice Patten, with her cute night-class Hindi, is sweet and understated. Madhavan shines in his guest appearance.
But the mother of all performances is given by veteran Waheeda Rahman in her brief but strong role as Ajay’s mother. In one scene, after her son’s death, she is shown walking towards the door – her back is towards the camera, yet her entire body language, the minor tremor, the slight limp as she walks shows a seasoned actor at work! It’s a one small shot, where she is not even facing the camera – yet, she literally walks away with all accolades!
There are some smaller but solid parts – Om Puri, Kirron Kher and Anupam Kher who do their bit fabulously.
AR Rahman’s music is good in parts, though his background score was lacking – the odd sound during Jallianwala Bagh sequence was probably meant to stir hearts, but it shook the ears more! Lata Mangeshkar’s Lukka Chhupi Bahut Hui brings a lump, and that entire sequence is very well handled (though a personal grouse will remain for editing a bulk of Lataji’s portion). Of the other songs, Mohe mohe tu rang de basanti, Paathshaala and Tu bin bataye are ok. In ‘Mohe mohe’ Mehra picks up a few leaves from Yash Chopra’s films and shows flowing mustard fields and pulsating Punjab in satiated sway – given a choice, I’d prefer the tranquil pace of ‘Aisa des hai mera’ from Veer Zaara!
I understand the film is doing very well, and I have only read praise for it – perhaps, I am getting old to enjoy these ‘youthful’ films, but once again I would leave by mentioning Swades – the patriotism, the inner journey presented in that film was far superior to RDB’s graffiti-like cocktail!
Overall: Above average
Also check out: Saba's brilliant review of the same film
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
The state of Rajasthan presents a delightful collage of vibrant colors. From the greens of Bharatpur to the pink of Jaipur to the ochre of the deserts, help
this state should be nominated as God’s own palette.
An opportunity to traverse a small slice of this rustic and splendid state presented to me yesterday. Traveling in the sturdy Ford Endeavor, we were three of us, who started the tour from Behror, a small, mid-way village between Delhi and Jaipur. From there on, we broke off civilization and the highway to course our way through ill-constructed and bumpy road towards Alwar, a town famous for its ‘maava’, a milk product.
The rains have finally opened their abundant baggage on the thirsty fields, which sway with fulsome pleasure in their dark greenery. The dotted road that cuts through the greens has not seen a proper renovation in years. Instead, the municipal corporation has fixed it in patches, resembling a beggar’s tattered dress, with black, fresh tar, sewn over the broken areas.
Like teenager’s acne, Alwar suddenly erupts out of the highway (or whatever that patchy road was). Resembling any other small town on important roots, this town also has a string of tyre, automotive spare parts and tractor shops. Shops line up like errant and ill-disciplined school children in an assembly hall, forming an irregular line. They are all small, with tin boards proclaiming their trade and shuttered. Some enterprising brand names have wormed their way in here, obviously, sensing the potential of C-class cities. We bump our way through the entire stretch of the town, passing through a couple of ‘important’ squares, and roundabouts. One such, turning to the left, leads us to the railway station, beyond which is a small outskirts village of Manduska, our object of visit here.
Manduska is much smaller than Alwar, not exactly a typical village, like Tatarpur, which we had crossed just before entering Alwar. Dusty roads, tiny shops, rickshaws, mud and people in penury greet us here.
In Rajasthan, history is there on your face, assertive and dominant. One just cannot ignore it, for the entire landscape is punctuated with forts and castles- some taken care of by the government (or the surviving generations of the royalty), others left to perish with their arcane tales buried between the solid rocks. One can only guess and imagine the purpose of a lone structure standing desolately overlooking the sprawling highway. The mountains few and far between (another of nature’s mysterious surprises of this land) are brown and dusty and dry and bear the burdens of age and barrenness. Again, they are not consistent, with their presence coming in spurts and fits. Brown, ochre and yellow are the most dominant colors of this bucolic terrain.
After Alwar, our journey brought us to many such villages, no need to list all of them- of these the most prominent was Deeg, which again has a fort, and an accompanying lake. Deeg, unfortunately, apart from its past splendor, has a more recent and current story of power, murder and conceit running through its veins. Deeg runs through a part rocky, part sandy arterial narrow road, concealing much more behind those tin-roofed kiosks and shops.
Our last stop on this route is Bharatpur- famous and well identified on the tourist map for its Bird Sanctuary. But before we reached there we had a funny misfortune. Having not taken lunch en route, we were famished by late afternoon. An alluring signboard of a sort of resort beckoned us in its inviting bright brown colors. It was two kilometers from the highway, on a small dirt track, that ended up in a small mud village, with a kind of fort looming ominously over it. The entrance to the fort was through a steep climb; even the otherwise healthy Endeavor heaved through the gradient. The fort was indeed very ominous, made of solid stone, and a huge iron gate. It looked a bit too run down to be a inhabited, thought the signboard had clearly proclaimed it to be a resort. On inspection, and our call, a dour waiter produced itself. Lunch milega, we asked expectantly. His incredulous reply was, sorry; no…you do not have a booking for lunch. With our jaws dropped, we stared at him in dumb incredulity. Booking? For Lunch? Amazing, no!
A peep into the fort confirmed our worst fears…we had pushed our luck a bit too far. The place was in ruins; I doubt any one ever came there. The setting was perfect for a shoot of a horror film.
And now on to Bharatpur…Due to the presence of the sanctuary several hotels have sprung up around it to cater to the tourist who would like to stay there overnight (Otherwise, most prefer to make it a day trip, since its 180 kms from Jaipur and only 58 kms from Agra). As in all such tourist destinations, these hotels come in all sizes and shapes and with exotic names like Bird’s Inn, Crane Crib and Peacock Hotel, etc (obviously keeping in mind the sanctuary).
During our search for a suitable place to spend the night there, we stumble upon the most unbelievable, the most unusual and the most pathetic sights of all times- at least none of us could believe our eyes, and none of us had seen it before this day…on the road to Jaipur, just a few kilometers away from the sanctuary, there is actually an open-air brothel! A few meters are lined up with huts and shanties, on both sides, and girls stand on the roadside inviting customers. The girls are decked up in loud and vulgar dresses (a cheap red color being the most favorite), with heavy red lipstick, chalky powder on the face, and a sweet, alluring but false smile on their lips, waving and calling the passing cars. Worse, this seems to be their acknowledged way of living, for routine life goes on around them as usual- old men are sitting on the cots, sleeping (drunk?) and elderly women are chatting or making dinner, or filling water, or removing lice from another’s hair; in short, remove the girls standing there, it is just another a mini-slum that one can even see in the cities now on small roadsides or alleys. It is open prostitution with a stamp of approval from their immediate society. I pity the plight of the girls born in this society (some do not look any older than thirteen years), sucked into this obscene trade for no fault of theirs, and also getting a sanction for doing so by what seemed to be their own family and relatives. If this is real India, then it certainly is not shining. I believe these girls sell their flesh for as low as five hundred rupees.
As we cross the place, my eye catches hold of an obviously more elderly lady sitting on a cot, but also in that same bright red make up. Age and men have already done their rampage on her. Yet, she invites, with her saree pallu dropped down in a futile attempt to look more sexy…but its her eyes that tell all: desperation (to get a client), hope (to get some money) and prayer (to sleep with a tummy full) all rolled together and pasted on her frustratingly facile façade. Our eyes meet, and she makes one last attempt, before I move forward in the car; I have turn back in my seat to see her; her eyes have drooped in sadness…was that a sigh that escaped her horrifyingly red lips?
(We stayed the night in Bharatpur; the next day we left for Jaipur, stopping midway at a few other villages and towns like Dausa, Sikandara- famous for its fine handiwork on soft stone- and Mahua. This journey was quite similar to the one described above, as the landscape did not change much. The Bharatpur-Jaipur highway is no better, and it was a bumpy ride again. On our way, also saw two Jackie Chan films on the VCD of the Endeavor: Thunderbolt and Spanish Connection. While the former was a bit too much of action for me to digest, the latter was quite interesting and resembled those good old sixties movies of Bollywood- with just the right dose of action, and the requisite dash of comedy and romance. Apart from this, the driver was considerate enough to play some beautiful Lata Mangeshkar numbers).
I don’t know how far it is true, malady but I speak from my personal experience – separating a man from his moustaches is quite an impossible task. Hrishikesh Mukherjee built an entire comedy revolving around mouches – remember Golmaal? And Utpal Dutt’s indignant stand – munch nahin toh mard nahin! I sport one. But unlike Utpal Dutt in the film, physician I do not twirl any morality into them; but yes, it seems without them I would be not complete.
Love for moustaches is not hereditary. Even if it is, then I am that perfect exception which always exists in every theory. My father does not sport one, neither did my grandfathers (both sides), none of my mamas, and not my chachas. Yet, as far as I recall I always wanted to have one. I am not sure where the influence came from.
Once the down was established, I never had the courage to remove it. Earlier my mother would often jokingly ask me to remove it, at least to see how I look clean-shaven. But the very thought would send a cold shiver down my spine. The only time I shaved it off was way back in college – that entire week I felt I was roaming naked. After that, I have never attempted. Plus, Lamhe released, and I viewed Anil Kapoor’s stiff upper lip in the first half, painfully aware at his obvious discomfort – while viewing the film, I patted my mouche lovingly – no baby, I am not murdering you ever! Few years later, King Uncle came. There was an entire parody based on Anu Aggarwal trying to get Jackie to trim off his weirdly shaped mouche. Even though I don’t have that horrendous shape, still I payed close attention to the song.
Just in case the girls are feeling left out, let me say it’s quite similar to having your long hair chopped off. I remember the pangs my sister went through when she went in for a new, short hair-style. That furthered my resolve – I wouldn’t subject myself to this mental agony!
Years passed, and off and on I did get the arrant urge off and on to do something drastic; but always controlled these wild thoughts. During these years, I would look with envy and awe at people who could regularly experiment with their face. My elder brother-in-law is one such person – he has tried everything: mustaches, clean-shaven, French beard, full beard – in short, the full works! My younger brother-in-law deserted his mouche, and never returned back to it. His reasoning – too much white hair peeping out there!
On my part I just saw them in mute admiration for their guts, secretly hoping some day I will be brave enough. The maximum I did was to trim off the thick eighties South Indian-film-hero-style bushy crop to a sophisticated slim one; sometimes using the scissor to such effect that it is barely visible. But never went full monty over my upper lip! Thankfully, white hairs (which are quite in abundance over the scalp) have not made their detrimental foray into my mouche!
Before coming to Nepal I had thought of doing so. It’s much easier if you go with a new look to a new place; at least, no one will walk up to you and peer into your face as if you are some exotic animal just escaped from the zoo! But, no – I couldn’t bring myself to it!
Today morning, while shaving, I had that animalistic strong urge again to wipe off the face clean. But as ever, in some innate defence mechanism, the heart beat shot up, the hand trembled, the mouth went dry and the razor looked menacingly but couldn’t complete its act. Before this primeval instinct betrayed me, hastily I moved away from the wash-basin.
But yes, someday I am going to do get over this fear. Also, these days clean-shaven look seems to be in-fashion. When I was growing up, it was the other way round. So, I guess I should be up-to-date with times. Will keep you and this blog posted the day I do ‘the act’!
[As of now, done nothing with the mouche- DJ, April ’06]
[re-posted with ecto]
Shifting back is a tedious process. While coming here things were easy. Initially, ed there were a series of India-visits and I got all the stuff I required slowly and steadily. Plus, over the months I purchased other useful items here. But going back, means packing them all up in one single go. Thankfully, since the decision was taken I had taken few stuff back last time. However, I realise now that the ‘few’ stuff was precisely that only – few! A large bulk remained, and I am at my wits ends getting them all packed or disposing them off.
Employing a packing agency is almost impossible at this short a notice. In any case, I don’t have that many things which would justify employing one. One more issue is that though the agitation has ceased, there is still a districts-wide blockade by Maoists, so I can never be sure when my goods will reach if I send them through road using a packing agent.
Worse, the nineteen-days agitation/curfews meant that I couldn’t move around to complete pending jobs. Some of them were crucial, and involved monetary refunds – mobile connection , internet connection, gas etc. It all opened up yesterday, and I am buried under an avalanche of things to complete. To add to the troubles, the lap-top will also go very shortly, and I am struggling to get personal files out from there, which include a mammoth 2 GB worth of songs, some of them rare Lata Mangeshkar numbers. Woefully, the CD drive has gone for a toss and I can’t store them on discs. I have to find ways of taking them out, and fast at that! Any good suggestion is most welcome!
If that wasn’t enough, then I suddenly got a call from my organisation to return two days earlier, which catapulted the entire process into a dizzying orbit of confusion.
Today’s horoscope in The Himalayan Times seems uncannily true:
A whirlwind surrounds you. You find that plans change. A new friend could appear on the scene. You could be delighted by what a simple call draws. Socialize, reach out for others. Tonight: Meet a friend!
I don’t know about the last part, since the day has yet to unfold completely. But the first two sentences are bang on. Hell, why didn’t I pay attention to these horoscopes earlier!
Anyways, I shall take leave now. For those visiting from previous Random Expressions, warm welcome; for new readers, welcome aboard! This is not a formal launch as yet. That I will do only when I am back in India.
By the time you read this, cheap I will be flying over mighty Himalayas to reach my homeland. Thanks to the facility on WordPress to change the date/time stamp, plague I have deliberately kept this post dated 28th April 2006 – the day I bade farewell to Nepal. I will not get time in the morning to post anything.
I am quite confused as to how to write this post. The past few days have been hectic, and I haven’t had time to assimilate my thoughts. I had planned to write a comprehensive post covering key aspects of my stay here, but I think that one will have to wait.Â
Right now, emotions are strong, and I will allow myself to immerse in them.
For me, leaving a country/city/home is not new. I have been doing it since I was eleven month’s old, courtesy my father’s transferable job. Yet, everytime there is always a surge of feelings which refuse to be categorized - most are expected ones like sorrow (at leaving a place, a city, a house where time is spent), happiness (at going back to parents) and nervousness (involving packing), but some are uncharacteristic, of which I will mention one : regret! Regret that I could have done something more substantial here, something more concrete and useful! There is a uncanny thought running in my mind that I am leaving something incomplete here! Well, I will leave it at that because try as much as I want to I am unable to put the thoughts into word correctly here; maybe later when I have more time, I will try to unravel this one in detail!
It’s the reactions of the people I was associated with that has caught me by absolute surprise. All along, I had maintained a friendly but distanced and professional relationship with them. Suddenly, I have been inundated by overwhelmingly sweet mails/calls/gifts; and that has left an irrepressible lump in my throat.
Seeing this, somewhere, somehow I feel I have succeeded as a human being.
To end my stay here, like a sumptuous dessert after a fulfilling meal, I had the good chance of meeting a blogger. However, the meet details will have to be wait for now.
Right now, let me just say – Farewell Nepal , and I hope peace reigns here soon; Will miss you terribly, and yes be ready to welcome me if I come here again 🙂
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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I admit I am not too well versed in Kalpana Lajmi’s cinema, this web
and haven’t watched any of her films barring the refreshingly honest Ek Pal. My association with her is restricted to Lata Mangeshkar’s extremely eloquent ‘Dil Hoom Hoom Kare’ from Rudaali. Hence, sick
I approached Chingaari with an open mind, and to say it left me cold is a major understatement.
Chingaari is one of those B-and-C-grade films masquerading as an art film. It is a puerile and pathetic piece of cinema that has neither the content nor flow to captivate audiences. It seems Lajmi’s intention was to shock and sensationalise the audience without any care for aesthetics or form.
The story is set in a typical North Indian village, Rangpur which has a designated red light area called Lal Batti (how unimaginative!). The gullible villagers are firmly held in tight clutches of the evil head-priest Bhuvan Panda (Mithun Chakraborty), who abuses his authority for own selfish motives. He keeps them involved in meaningless religious mumbo-jumbos instigating fear in their heart to retain his superiority over them. He uses illogical rites like making a naked virgin girl sit on his lap, while he places himself over a corpse, in order to exorcise the dead man’s evil spirit! Even though he berates prostitutes, resorting to physical and verbal abuse even if they so much as touch the Goddess’ idol inadvertently, still he has no qualms in spending the nights at their place – practicing wild, kinky and sadist sex!
One such prostitute is Basanti (Sushmita Sen), who lives with her daughter Titli, and ekes out her living in that deplorable condition.
In this murky environment enters the fresh, educated and young postman Chandan Mishra (Anuj Sawhney). Like any villager postman, he not only delivers letters, but reads them out and writes for them, and in a sense he becomes a confidante, friend and mentor to them. An unstated, muted and sublime love develops between Chadan and Basanti, cemented by his affection for the latter’s fatherless daughter! He also instigates revolt against Bhuvan Panda.
No doubt the love story between the postman and the prostitute (incidentally, the film’s original title as well) is good, and could have been a classy saga of romance, sacrifice and valor. Unfortunately, Lajmi seems to have seen too many Neha Dhupia flicks of late, hence it ends up being a loud, crass and disgusting melodrama.
The narrative moves in jerks and fits, and the screenplay is shoddy. There is no continuum in the movement, and several unwanted scenes are repetitive or too lengthy for comfort; the running time is also inordinately long; looks as if the editor just did not know his job. Sequences where the prostitutes are interacting are gross. Sushmita’s introduction scene where she instigates two colleagues fighting over a customer and urges them to use words like ‘randi’ and ‘chinaal’ is horrible.
The dialogues are crappy, peppered liberally with obscenities and profanities and are written only to evoke shock value. The climax is hilarious – Sushmita goes to the village temple with her hair flying wild, drums beating and picks up a trishul and kills Bhuvan Panda – it’s straight from those forgettable mid-eighties dacoit/revenge dramas that had infested Bollywood that time!
Production value is shoddy and camera work is tacky. The music (by Adesh Srivastava) is nothing to write home (or anywhere) about.
Sushmita Sen gives a relatively good performance, though she appears too urban to pass off as a rustic prostitute convincingly. Anuj Sawhney is adequate. But Mithun Chakraborty is too tired and haggard! Ila Arun, as the red light area’s head-madame, is ok.
The film does nothing to sensitize against the prostitute’s plight; nor does it help to lay spotlight on interior
India’s woeful condition. In the end, it’s not even good cinema. This chingaari fizzles out without lighting any fire. I hope Lajmi drops the ‘neice of Guru Dutt’ tag for the time being till she returns with a more meaningful and involving film!
Overall: Avoid
Side Notes
While on prostitutes, I read the following somewhere: during the shoot of Kalyug abroad, Deepal Shaw was mistaken for a whore by another one from the tribe there! Despite liking Shaw in that film, my overall impression of her is that – to put it very bluntly – she looks like a slut! Her music videos are largely responsible for giving that image. In the write-up that I read, Shaw narrated this incident with obvious glee. I don’t know about her, but if I were in her place, I would have taken serious offence and not publicize this fact and, more importantly, do some serious introspection!
Secondly, who is that goddamn singer who has screeched ‘Aa darr ke marr’ from Darna Zaroori Hai! It’s the most irritating, grating and awful voice I have heard in recent times. If the brief given to her was to sound sexy and scary at the same time, she has got it widely wrong! Why does Ram Gopal Verma waste money and time in recording songs which no one is going to buy? Stardust (April 2006) carries a piece on Verma’s deteriorating position in the industry. Though Stardust in itself is a gossip magazine, but still some facts are true and cannot be ignored – his films (except Sarkar) have all flopped, his proteges are deserting him and his financers are distancing themselves.
Hope Darna Zaroori Hai bails him out. I liked the first part (Darna Marna Hai) and am eagerly awaiting the release of the second one now!
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
This review was written the same day I saw the film, dermatologist
which was on 4th February. But seeing the overwhelmingly positive reactions for the film didn’t have heart to publish it. Till the time I told Anubha about its existence. She reprimanded me for not putting it up and reminded me that on my blog I had complete right to write whatever I felt. True, help
perhaps I have been playing to the gallery quite a lot, visit this
and taking ‘the popular’ tag a bit too seriously than warranted. Thanks Anubha for the reality check!
Blame it on the huge expectation – but fact is I found Rang De Basanti just about ok, a different film, but just about that. Somehow it couldn’t involve me into its narration. There were too many incoherent details which left me cold – some were minor quibbles regarding Delhi’s depiction: why the hell did Sonia (Soha Ali) take Sue via Red Fort if they were going to University from Delhi Airport? There is a much shorter and convenient route! And then, that was clearly not anywhere close to Delhi University for sure! It was India Habitat Center passed off as DU!
Even though Rakeysh Mehra struggles to deploy a conventional story telling format, he is unable to fully discard the now-standard jump-cuts and fast-track editing styles; at few crucial points these neo-modern techniques crop up horrifyingly. The post-interval lathi charge scene is one prime example. Instead of gripping the audience in a tight-fist and knocking a solid punch, he shows a collage alternating between slow-motion and hazy movements with a dull song in the background. The entire sequence’s steam, whose build-up begins with Ajay Rathod’s death, dissipates away like a pressure cooker rudely taken off the burner!
The transformation of youth doesn’t come around neatly. I kept thinking of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s Swades, and how he had handled Mohan Bhargav’s transition smoothly! Here, it is erratic and abrupt. Also, in Swades the awakening is not linked to personal tragedy, making it more sublime. Here it seems more like those eighties personal vendetta film wearing a neo-modern cloak!
The story is interesting – but the climax is very shoddy: it takes away the entire thrust of the film’s message. Here, I am not talking about the defence minister’s too-easy-to-be-true murder, which can be accorded to the director’s creative license. But it’s the death of all protagonists which I could not digest. Does the maker want to tell the youth that if they have to do something for the country they will necessarily be killed? And does it really make the nation rise in protest? Except for a few shots of some students talking to NDTV, which sounded like a storm in a teacup and extremely unconvincing, the film-maker remains stunningly silent on their action’s impact. To me, their sacrifice looked futile. Plus, where did the Commandos come from? And why?
Agreed that Rakeysh Mehra wanted to draw a parallel to Bhagat Singh et al, but shouldn’t the climax have moved away to show the difference of the eras and of the youth, then and now! I feel an intelligent comparison need not be hundred percent overlapping – though the rising could be compared but the end needed much brain which was definitely not put to use. A mature writer draws parallel, brings them to a crossroad, but from there takes it to a separate and higher denouement. And this is where the film fails, and the reason why it couldn’t touch me at all.
Another fact which irked me was Sue’s character – did Mehra really have to use a foreigner to awaken youth-conscience and youth conscious? Is this some surreptitious handshake with old British ideology that ‘it is always white man’s burden’ to take care of Indians? Sorry, Mehra – an upright Indian NGO worker could have made the point more clear and driven home the fact more scathingly – and if Mehra feels that such people don’t exist, sorry he needs to open his wider!
On the plus side – the film gives ample space to every character though it could have incorporated a bit on Soha Ali and Sharman Joshi’s background/home as well.
Performance-wise the film is a topper – Soha Ali is a huge revelation especially after her wooden acting in Dil Maange More. She slips into her character’s skin effortlessly. Sharman Joshi, Kunal Kapoor and Atul Kulkarni live their part with aplomb. Siddharth, who gets maximum footage amongst the supporting cast, is a delight to watch, especially his voice modulation was impeccable (not sure if he has done the dubbing himself!). Alice Patten, with her cute night-class Hindi, is sweet and understated. Madhavan shines in his guest appearance.
But the mother of all performances is given by veteran Waheeda Rahman in her brief but strong role as Ajay’s mother. In one scene, after her son’s death, she is shown walking towards the door – her back is towards the camera, yet her entire body language, the minor tremor, the slight limp as she walks shows a seasoned actor at work! It’s a one small shot, where she is not even facing the camera – yet, she literally walks away with all accolades!
There are some smaller but solid parts – Om Puri, Kirron Kher and Anupam Kher who do their bit fabulously.
AR Rahman’s music is good in parts, though his background score was lacking – the odd sound during Jallianwala Bagh sequence was probably meant to stir hearts, but it shook the ears more! Lata Mangeshkar’s Lukka Chhupi Bahut Hui brings a lump, and that entire sequence is very well handled (though a personal grouse will remain for editing a bulk of Lataji’s portion). Of the other songs, Mohe mohe tu rang de basanti, Paathshaala and Tu bin bataye are ok. In ‘Mohe mohe’ Mehra picks up a few leaves from Yash Chopra’s films and shows flowing mustard fields and pulsating Punjab in satiated sway – given a choice, I’d prefer the tranquil pace of ‘Aisa des hai mera’ from Veer Zaara!
I understand the film is doing very well, and I have only read praise for it – perhaps, I am getting old to enjoy these ‘youthful’ films, but once again I would leave by mentioning Swades – the patriotism, the inner journey presented in that film was far superior to RDB’s graffiti-like cocktail!
Overall: Above average
Also check out: Saba's brilliant review of the same film
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
The state of Rajasthan presents a delightful collage of vibrant colors. From the greens of Bharatpur to the pink of Jaipur to the ochre of the deserts, help
this state should be nominated as God’s own palette.
An opportunity to traverse a small slice of this rustic and splendid state presented to me yesterday. Traveling in the sturdy Ford Endeavor, we were three of us, who started the tour from Behror, a small, mid-way village between Delhi and Jaipur. From there on, we broke off civilization and the highway to course our way through ill-constructed and bumpy road towards Alwar, a town famous for its ‘maava’, a milk product.
The rains have finally opened their abundant baggage on the thirsty fields, which sway with fulsome pleasure in their dark greenery. The dotted road that cuts through the greens has not seen a proper renovation in years. Instead, the municipal corporation has fixed it in patches, resembling a beggar’s tattered dress, with black, fresh tar, sewn over the broken areas.
Like teenager’s acne, Alwar suddenly erupts out of the highway (or whatever that patchy road was). Resembling any other small town on important roots, this town also has a string of tyre, automotive spare parts and tractor shops. Shops line up like errant and ill-disciplined school children in an assembly hall, forming an irregular line. They are all small, with tin boards proclaiming their trade and shuttered. Some enterprising brand names have wormed their way in here, obviously, sensing the potential of C-class cities. We bump our way through the entire stretch of the town, passing through a couple of ‘important’ squares, and roundabouts. One such, turning to the left, leads us to the railway station, beyond which is a small outskirts village of Manduska, our object of visit here.
Manduska is much smaller than Alwar, not exactly a typical village, like Tatarpur, which we had crossed just before entering Alwar. Dusty roads, tiny shops, rickshaws, mud and people in penury greet us here.
In Rajasthan, history is there on your face, assertive and dominant. One just cannot ignore it, for the entire landscape is punctuated with forts and castles- some taken care of by the government (or the surviving generations of the royalty), others left to perish with their arcane tales buried between the solid rocks. One can only guess and imagine the purpose of a lone structure standing desolately overlooking the sprawling highway. The mountains few and far between (another of nature’s mysterious surprises of this land) are brown and dusty and dry and bear the burdens of age and barrenness. Again, they are not consistent, with their presence coming in spurts and fits. Brown, ochre and yellow are the most dominant colors of this bucolic terrain.
After Alwar, our journey brought us to many such villages, no need to list all of them- of these the most prominent was Deeg, which again has a fort, and an accompanying lake. Deeg, unfortunately, apart from its past splendor, has a more recent and current story of power, murder and conceit running through its veins. Deeg runs through a part rocky, part sandy arterial narrow road, concealing much more behind those tin-roofed kiosks and shops.
Our last stop on this route is Bharatpur- famous and well identified on the tourist map for its Bird Sanctuary. But before we reached there we had a funny misfortune. Having not taken lunch en route, we were famished by late afternoon. An alluring signboard of a sort of resort beckoned us in its inviting bright brown colors. It was two kilometers from the highway, on a small dirt track, that ended up in a small mud village, with a kind of fort looming ominously over it. The entrance to the fort was through a steep climb; even the otherwise healthy Endeavor heaved through the gradient. The fort was indeed very ominous, made of solid stone, and a huge iron gate. It looked a bit too run down to be a inhabited, thought the signboard had clearly proclaimed it to be a resort. On inspection, and our call, a dour waiter produced itself. Lunch milega, we asked expectantly. His incredulous reply was, sorry; no…you do not have a booking for lunch. With our jaws dropped, we stared at him in dumb incredulity. Booking? For Lunch? Amazing, no!
A peep into the fort confirmed our worst fears…we had pushed our luck a bit too far. The place was in ruins; I doubt any one ever came there. The setting was perfect for a shoot of a horror film.
And now on to Bharatpur…Due to the presence of the sanctuary several hotels have sprung up around it to cater to the tourist who would like to stay there overnight (Otherwise, most prefer to make it a day trip, since its 180 kms from Jaipur and only 58 kms from Agra). As in all such tourist destinations, these hotels come in all sizes and shapes and with exotic names like Bird’s Inn, Crane Crib and Peacock Hotel, etc (obviously keeping in mind the sanctuary).
During our search for a suitable place to spend the night there, we stumble upon the most unbelievable, the most unusual and the most pathetic sights of all times- at least none of us could believe our eyes, and none of us had seen it before this day…on the road to Jaipur, just a few kilometers away from the sanctuary, there is actually an open-air brothel! A few meters are lined up with huts and shanties, on both sides, and girls stand on the roadside inviting customers. The girls are decked up in loud and vulgar dresses (a cheap red color being the most favorite), with heavy red lipstick, chalky powder on the face, and a sweet, alluring but false smile on their lips, waving and calling the passing cars. Worse, this seems to be their acknowledged way of living, for routine life goes on around them as usual- old men are sitting on the cots, sleeping (drunk?) and elderly women are chatting or making dinner, or filling water, or removing lice from another’s hair; in short, remove the girls standing there, it is just another a mini-slum that one can even see in the cities now on small roadsides or alleys. It is open prostitution with a stamp of approval from their immediate society. I pity the plight of the girls born in this society (some do not look any older than thirteen years), sucked into this obscene trade for no fault of theirs, and also getting a sanction for doing so by what seemed to be their own family and relatives. If this is real India, then it certainly is not shining. I believe these girls sell their flesh for as low as five hundred rupees.
As we cross the place, my eye catches hold of an obviously more elderly lady sitting on a cot, but also in that same bright red make up. Age and men have already done their rampage on her. Yet, she invites, with her saree pallu dropped down in a futile attempt to look more sexy…but its her eyes that tell all: desperation (to get a client), hope (to get some money) and prayer (to sleep with a tummy full) all rolled together and pasted on her frustratingly facile façade. Our eyes meet, and she makes one last attempt, before I move forward in the car; I have turn back in my seat to see her; her eyes have drooped in sadness…was that a sigh that escaped her horrifyingly red lips?
(We stayed the night in Bharatpur; the next day we left for Jaipur, stopping midway at a few other villages and towns like Dausa, Sikandara- famous for its fine handiwork on soft stone- and Mahua. This journey was quite similar to the one described above, as the landscape did not change much. The Bharatpur-Jaipur highway is no better, and it was a bumpy ride again. On our way, also saw two Jackie Chan films on the VCD of the Endeavor: Thunderbolt and Spanish Connection. While the former was a bit too much of action for me to digest, the latter was quite interesting and resembled those good old sixties movies of Bollywood- with just the right dose of action, and the requisite dash of comedy and romance. Apart from this, the driver was considerate enough to play some beautiful Lata Mangeshkar numbers).
I don’t know how far it is true, malady but I speak from my personal experience – separating a man from his moustaches is quite an impossible task. Hrishikesh Mukherjee built an entire comedy revolving around mouches – remember Golmaal? And Utpal Dutt’s indignant stand – munch nahin toh mard nahin! I sport one. But unlike Utpal Dutt in the film, physician I do not twirl any morality into them; but yes, it seems without them I would be not complete.
Love for moustaches is not hereditary. Even if it is, then I am that perfect exception which always exists in every theory. My father does not sport one, neither did my grandfathers (both sides), none of my mamas, and not my chachas. Yet, as far as I recall I always wanted to have one. I am not sure where the influence came from.
Once the down was established, I never had the courage to remove it. Earlier my mother would often jokingly ask me to remove it, at least to see how I look clean-shaven. But the very thought would send a cold shiver down my spine. The only time I shaved it off was way back in college – that entire week I felt I was roaming naked. After that, I have never attempted. Plus, Lamhe released, and I viewed Anil Kapoor’s stiff upper lip in the first half, painfully aware at his obvious discomfort – while viewing the film, I patted my mouche lovingly – no baby, I am not murdering you ever! Few years later, King Uncle came. There was an entire parody based on Anu Aggarwal trying to get Jackie to trim off his weirdly shaped mouche. Even though I don’t have that horrendous shape, still I payed close attention to the song.
Just in case the girls are feeling left out, let me say it’s quite similar to having your long hair chopped off. I remember the pangs my sister went through when she went in for a new, short hair-style. That furthered my resolve – I wouldn’t subject myself to this mental agony!
Years passed, and off and on I did get the arrant urge off and on to do something drastic; but always controlled these wild thoughts. During these years, I would look with envy and awe at people who could regularly experiment with their face. My elder brother-in-law is one such person – he has tried everything: mustaches, clean-shaven, French beard, full beard – in short, the full works! My younger brother-in-law deserted his mouche, and never returned back to it. His reasoning – too much white hair peeping out there!
On my part I just saw them in mute admiration for their guts, secretly hoping some day I will be brave enough. The maximum I did was to trim off the thick eighties South Indian-film-hero-style bushy crop to a sophisticated slim one; sometimes using the scissor to such effect that it is barely visible. But never went full monty over my upper lip! Thankfully, white hairs (which are quite in abundance over the scalp) have not made their detrimental foray into my mouche!
Before coming to Nepal I had thought of doing so. It’s much easier if you go with a new look to a new place; at least, no one will walk up to you and peer into your face as if you are some exotic animal just escaped from the zoo! But, no – I couldn’t bring myself to it!
Today morning, while shaving, I had that animalistic strong urge again to wipe off the face clean. But as ever, in some innate defence mechanism, the heart beat shot up, the hand trembled, the mouth went dry and the razor looked menacingly but couldn’t complete its act. Before this primeval instinct betrayed me, hastily I moved away from the wash-basin.
But yes, someday I am going to do get over this fear. Also, these days clean-shaven look seems to be in-fashion. When I was growing up, it was the other way round. So, I guess I should be up-to-date with times. Will keep you and this blog posted the day I do ‘the act’!
[As of now, done nothing with the mouche- DJ, April ’06]
[re-posted with ecto]
Shifting back is a tedious process. While coming here things were easy. Initially, ed there were a series of India-visits and I got all the stuff I required slowly and steadily. Plus, over the months I purchased other useful items here. But going back, means packing them all up in one single go. Thankfully, since the decision was taken I had taken few stuff back last time. However, I realise now that the ‘few’ stuff was precisely that only – few! A large bulk remained, and I am at my wits ends getting them all packed or disposing them off.
Employing a packing agency is almost impossible at this short a notice. In any case, I don’t have that many things which would justify employing one. One more issue is that though the agitation has ceased, there is still a districts-wide blockade by Maoists, so I can never be sure when my goods will reach if I send them through road using a packing agent.
Worse, the nineteen-days agitation/curfews meant that I couldn’t move around to complete pending jobs. Some of them were crucial, and involved monetary refunds – mobile connection , internet connection, gas etc. It all opened up yesterday, and I am buried under an avalanche of things to complete. To add to the troubles, the lap-top will also go very shortly, and I am struggling to get personal files out from there, which include a mammoth 2 GB worth of songs, some of them rare Lata Mangeshkar numbers. Woefully, the CD drive has gone for a toss and I can’t store them on discs. I have to find ways of taking them out, and fast at that! Any good suggestion is most welcome!
If that wasn’t enough, then I suddenly got a call from my organisation to return two days earlier, which catapulted the entire process into a dizzying orbit of confusion.
Today’s horoscope in The Himalayan Times seems uncannily true:
A whirlwind surrounds you. You find that plans change. A new friend could appear on the scene. You could be delighted by what a simple call draws. Socialize, reach out for others. Tonight: Meet a friend!
I don’t know about the last part, since the day has yet to unfold completely. But the first two sentences are bang on. Hell, why didn’t I pay attention to these horoscopes earlier!
Anyways, I shall take leave now. For those visiting from previous Random Expressions, warm welcome; for new readers, welcome aboard! This is not a formal launch as yet. That I will do only when I am back in India.
By the time you read this, cheap I will be flying over mighty Himalayas to reach my homeland. Thanks to the facility on WordPress to change the date/time stamp, plague I have deliberately kept this post dated 28th April 2006 – the day I bade farewell to Nepal. I will not get time in the morning to post anything.
I am quite confused as to how to write this post. The past few days have been hectic, and I haven’t had time to assimilate my thoughts. I had planned to write a comprehensive post covering key aspects of my stay here, but I think that one will have to wait.Â
Right now, emotions are strong, and I will allow myself to immerse in them.
For me, leaving a country/city/home is not new. I have been doing it since I was eleven month’s old, courtesy my father’s transferable job. Yet, everytime there is always a surge of feelings which refuse to be categorized - most are expected ones like sorrow (at leaving a place, a city, a house where time is spent), happiness (at going back to parents) and nervousness (involving packing), but some are uncharacteristic, of which I will mention one : regret! Regret that I could have done something more substantial here, something more concrete and useful! There is a uncanny thought running in my mind that I am leaving something incomplete here! Well, I will leave it at that because try as much as I want to I am unable to put the thoughts into word correctly here; maybe later when I have more time, I will try to unravel this one in detail!
It’s the reactions of the people I was associated with that has caught me by absolute surprise. All along, I had maintained a friendly but distanced and professional relationship with them. Suddenly, I have been inundated by overwhelmingly sweet mails/calls/gifts; and that has left an irrepressible lump in my throat.
Seeing this, somewhere, somehow I feel I have succeeded as a human being.
To end my stay here, like a sumptuous dessert after a fulfilling meal, I had the good chance of meeting a blogger. However, the meet details will have to be wait for now.
Right now, let me just say – Farewell Nepal , and I hope peace reigns here soon; Will miss you terribly, and yes be ready to welcome me if I come here again 🙂
By the time you read this, cheap I will be flying over mighty Himalayas to reach my homeland. Thanks to the facility on WordPress to change the date/time stamp, plague I have deliberately kept this post dated 28th April 2006 – the day I bade farewell to Nepal. I will not get time in the morning to post anything.
I am quite confused as to how to write this post. The past few days have been hectic, and I haven’t had time to assimilate my thoughts. I had planned to write a comprehensive post covering key aspects of my stay here, but I think that one will have to wait.Â
Right now, emotions are strong, and I will allow myself to immerse in them.
For me, leaving a country/city/home is not new. I have been doing it since I was eleven month’s old, courtesy my father’s transferable job. Yet, everytime there is always a surge of feelings which refuse to be categorized - most are expected ones like sorrow (at leaving a place, a city, a house where time is spent), happiness (at going back to parents) and nervousness (involving packing), but some are uncharacteristic, of which I will mention one : regret! Regret that I could have done something more substantial here, something more concrete and useful! There is a uncanny thought running in my mind that I am leaving something incomplete here! Well, I will leave it at that because try as much as I want to I am unable to put the thoughts into word correctly here; maybe later when I have more time, I will try to unravel this one in detail!
It’s the reactions of the people I was associated with that has caught me by absolute surprise. All along, I had maintained a friendly but distanced and professional relationship with them. Suddenly, I have been inundated by overwhelmingly sweet mails/calls/gifts; and that has left an irrepressible lump in my throat.
Seeing this, somewhere, somehow I feel I have succeeded as a human being.
To end my stay here, like a sumptuous dessert after a fulfilling meal, I had the good chance of meeting a blogger. However, the meet details will have to be wait for now.
Right now, let me just say – Farewell Nepal , and I hope peace reigns here soon; Will miss you terribly, and yes be ready to welcome me if I come here again 🙂
Suddenly it all went topsy-turvy.
Coming back home should have been easy, sick and comfortable. And that’s what I had thought too. Till the time I unpacked my bags here, and realized that nineteen months is quite a long time for new routines to settle in, which I weren’t aware of, or had missed during my brief two-three days visit every month. These changes, although subtle, can be quite irritating.
Also, I had myself got used to the carefree ways of living alone, so getting back into the routine groove took some time. To add to the woes, my laptop went away with the old job. Hence, I was technologically a bit crippled. Getting a new PC, and then an internet connection was a tedious process, made more tedious with the amount of options available, making me wonder whether it was better to live in a place where choices were limited?
Anyway, I shall skip the details here. As also, will skip the lament about Delhi’s awful temperatures! It’s an annual recurrence, and each year seems more ‘tough’ than the previous ones; I am pretty tired of hearing ‘par picchle saal itni garmi nahi thi…’ when the fact is every year has its own share of ‘hottest’ days. Amusingly, the same thing is said in winters with the season changed in the above sentence!
I am still struggling in getting ‘settled’, though with an internet connection now, I feel much at home!
With this post, I also formally launch the site, and will be now onwards regular in posting here! Keep reading!
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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I admit I am not too well versed in Kalpana Lajmi’s cinema, this web
and haven’t watched any of her films barring the refreshingly honest Ek Pal. My association with her is restricted to Lata Mangeshkar’s extremely eloquent ‘Dil Hoom Hoom Kare’ from Rudaali. Hence, sick
I approached Chingaari with an open mind, and to say it left me cold is a major understatement.
Chingaari is one of those B-and-C-grade films masquerading as an art film. It is a puerile and pathetic piece of cinema that has neither the content nor flow to captivate audiences. It seems Lajmi’s intention was to shock and sensationalise the audience without any care for aesthetics or form.
The story is set in a typical North Indian village, Rangpur which has a designated red light area called Lal Batti (how unimaginative!). The gullible villagers are firmly held in tight clutches of the evil head-priest Bhuvan Panda (Mithun Chakraborty), who abuses his authority for own selfish motives. He keeps them involved in meaningless religious mumbo-jumbos instigating fear in their heart to retain his superiority over them. He uses illogical rites like making a naked virgin girl sit on his lap, while he places himself over a corpse, in order to exorcise the dead man’s evil spirit! Even though he berates prostitutes, resorting to physical and verbal abuse even if they so much as touch the Goddess’ idol inadvertently, still he has no qualms in spending the nights at their place – practicing wild, kinky and sadist sex!
One such prostitute is Basanti (Sushmita Sen), who lives with her daughter Titli, and ekes out her living in that deplorable condition.
In this murky environment enters the fresh, educated and young postman Chandan Mishra (Anuj Sawhney). Like any villager postman, he not only delivers letters, but reads them out and writes for them, and in a sense he becomes a confidante, friend and mentor to them. An unstated, muted and sublime love develops between Chadan and Basanti, cemented by his affection for the latter’s fatherless daughter! He also instigates revolt against Bhuvan Panda.
No doubt the love story between the postman and the prostitute (incidentally, the film’s original title as well) is good, and could have been a classy saga of romance, sacrifice and valor. Unfortunately, Lajmi seems to have seen too many Neha Dhupia flicks of late, hence it ends up being a loud, crass and disgusting melodrama.
The narrative moves in jerks and fits, and the screenplay is shoddy. There is no continuum in the movement, and several unwanted scenes are repetitive or too lengthy for comfort; the running time is also inordinately long; looks as if the editor just did not know his job. Sequences where the prostitutes are interacting are gross. Sushmita’s introduction scene where she instigates two colleagues fighting over a customer and urges them to use words like ‘randi’ and ‘chinaal’ is horrible.
The dialogues are crappy, peppered liberally with obscenities and profanities and are written only to evoke shock value. The climax is hilarious – Sushmita goes to the village temple with her hair flying wild, drums beating and picks up a trishul and kills Bhuvan Panda – it’s straight from those forgettable mid-eighties dacoit/revenge dramas that had infested Bollywood that time!
Production value is shoddy and camera work is tacky. The music (by Adesh Srivastava) is nothing to write home (or anywhere) about.
Sushmita Sen gives a relatively good performance, though she appears too urban to pass off as a rustic prostitute convincingly. Anuj Sawhney is adequate. But Mithun Chakraborty is too tired and haggard! Ila Arun, as the red light area’s head-madame, is ok.
The film does nothing to sensitize against the prostitute’s plight; nor does it help to lay spotlight on interior
India’s woeful condition. In the end, it’s not even good cinema. This chingaari fizzles out without lighting any fire. I hope Lajmi drops the ‘neice of Guru Dutt’ tag for the time being till she returns with a more meaningful and involving film!
Overall: Avoid
Side Notes
While on prostitutes, I read the following somewhere: during the shoot of Kalyug abroad, Deepal Shaw was mistaken for a whore by another one from the tribe there! Despite liking Shaw in that film, my overall impression of her is that – to put it very bluntly – she looks like a slut! Her music videos are largely responsible for giving that image. In the write-up that I read, Shaw narrated this incident with obvious glee. I don’t know about her, but if I were in her place, I would have taken serious offence and not publicize this fact and, more importantly, do some serious introspection!
Secondly, who is that goddamn singer who has screeched ‘Aa darr ke marr’ from Darna Zaroori Hai! It’s the most irritating, grating and awful voice I have heard in recent times. If the brief given to her was to sound sexy and scary at the same time, she has got it widely wrong! Why does Ram Gopal Verma waste money and time in recording songs which no one is going to buy? Stardust (April 2006) carries a piece on Verma’s deteriorating position in the industry. Though Stardust in itself is a gossip magazine, but still some facts are true and cannot be ignored – his films (except Sarkar) have all flopped, his proteges are deserting him and his financers are distancing themselves.
Hope Darna Zaroori Hai bails him out. I liked the first part (Darna Marna Hai) and am eagerly awaiting the release of the second one now!
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
This review was written the same day I saw the film, dermatologist
which was on 4th February. But seeing the overwhelmingly positive reactions for the film didn’t have heart to publish it. Till the time I told Anubha about its existence. She reprimanded me for not putting it up and reminded me that on my blog I had complete right to write whatever I felt. True, help
perhaps I have been playing to the gallery quite a lot, visit this
and taking ‘the popular’ tag a bit too seriously than warranted. Thanks Anubha for the reality check!
Blame it on the huge expectation – but fact is I found Rang De Basanti just about ok, a different film, but just about that. Somehow it couldn’t involve me into its narration. There were too many incoherent details which left me cold – some were minor quibbles regarding Delhi’s depiction: why the hell did Sonia (Soha Ali) take Sue via Red Fort if they were going to University from Delhi Airport? There is a much shorter and convenient route! And then, that was clearly not anywhere close to Delhi University for sure! It was India Habitat Center passed off as DU!
Even though Rakeysh Mehra struggles to deploy a conventional story telling format, he is unable to fully discard the now-standard jump-cuts and fast-track editing styles; at few crucial points these neo-modern techniques crop up horrifyingly. The post-interval lathi charge scene is one prime example. Instead of gripping the audience in a tight-fist and knocking a solid punch, he shows a collage alternating between slow-motion and hazy movements with a dull song in the background. The entire sequence’s steam, whose build-up begins with Ajay Rathod’s death, dissipates away like a pressure cooker rudely taken off the burner!
The transformation of youth doesn’t come around neatly. I kept thinking of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s Swades, and how he had handled Mohan Bhargav’s transition smoothly! Here, it is erratic and abrupt. Also, in Swades the awakening is not linked to personal tragedy, making it more sublime. Here it seems more like those eighties personal vendetta film wearing a neo-modern cloak!
The story is interesting – but the climax is very shoddy: it takes away the entire thrust of the film’s message. Here, I am not talking about the defence minister’s too-easy-to-be-true murder, which can be accorded to the director’s creative license. But it’s the death of all protagonists which I could not digest. Does the maker want to tell the youth that if they have to do something for the country they will necessarily be killed? And does it really make the nation rise in protest? Except for a few shots of some students talking to NDTV, which sounded like a storm in a teacup and extremely unconvincing, the film-maker remains stunningly silent on their action’s impact. To me, their sacrifice looked futile. Plus, where did the Commandos come from? And why?
Agreed that Rakeysh Mehra wanted to draw a parallel to Bhagat Singh et al, but shouldn’t the climax have moved away to show the difference of the eras and of the youth, then and now! I feel an intelligent comparison need not be hundred percent overlapping – though the rising could be compared but the end needed much brain which was definitely not put to use. A mature writer draws parallel, brings them to a crossroad, but from there takes it to a separate and higher denouement. And this is where the film fails, and the reason why it couldn’t touch me at all.
Another fact which irked me was Sue’s character – did Mehra really have to use a foreigner to awaken youth-conscience and youth conscious? Is this some surreptitious handshake with old British ideology that ‘it is always white man’s burden’ to take care of Indians? Sorry, Mehra – an upright Indian NGO worker could have made the point more clear and driven home the fact more scathingly – and if Mehra feels that such people don’t exist, sorry he needs to open his wider!
On the plus side – the film gives ample space to every character though it could have incorporated a bit on Soha Ali and Sharman Joshi’s background/home as well.
Performance-wise the film is a topper – Soha Ali is a huge revelation especially after her wooden acting in Dil Maange More. She slips into her character’s skin effortlessly. Sharman Joshi, Kunal Kapoor and Atul Kulkarni live their part with aplomb. Siddharth, who gets maximum footage amongst the supporting cast, is a delight to watch, especially his voice modulation was impeccable (not sure if he has done the dubbing himself!). Alice Patten, with her cute night-class Hindi, is sweet and understated. Madhavan shines in his guest appearance.
But the mother of all performances is given by veteran Waheeda Rahman in her brief but strong role as Ajay’s mother. In one scene, after her son’s death, she is shown walking towards the door – her back is towards the camera, yet her entire body language, the minor tremor, the slight limp as she walks shows a seasoned actor at work! It’s a one small shot, where she is not even facing the camera – yet, she literally walks away with all accolades!
There are some smaller but solid parts – Om Puri, Kirron Kher and Anupam Kher who do their bit fabulously.
AR Rahman’s music is good in parts, though his background score was lacking – the odd sound during Jallianwala Bagh sequence was probably meant to stir hearts, but it shook the ears more! Lata Mangeshkar’s Lukka Chhupi Bahut Hui brings a lump, and that entire sequence is very well handled (though a personal grouse will remain for editing a bulk of Lataji’s portion). Of the other songs, Mohe mohe tu rang de basanti, Paathshaala and Tu bin bataye are ok. In ‘Mohe mohe’ Mehra picks up a few leaves from Yash Chopra’s films and shows flowing mustard fields and pulsating Punjab in satiated sway – given a choice, I’d prefer the tranquil pace of ‘Aisa des hai mera’ from Veer Zaara!
I understand the film is doing very well, and I have only read praise for it – perhaps, I am getting old to enjoy these ‘youthful’ films, but once again I would leave by mentioning Swades – the patriotism, the inner journey presented in that film was far superior to RDB’s graffiti-like cocktail!
Overall: Above average
Also check out: Saba's brilliant review of the same film
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
The state of Rajasthan presents a delightful collage of vibrant colors. From the greens of Bharatpur to the pink of Jaipur to the ochre of the deserts, help
this state should be nominated as God’s own palette.
An opportunity to traverse a small slice of this rustic and splendid state presented to me yesterday. Traveling in the sturdy Ford Endeavor, we were three of us, who started the tour from Behror, a small, mid-way village between Delhi and Jaipur. From there on, we broke off civilization and the highway to course our way through ill-constructed and bumpy road towards Alwar, a town famous for its ‘maava’, a milk product.
The rains have finally opened their abundant baggage on the thirsty fields, which sway with fulsome pleasure in their dark greenery. The dotted road that cuts through the greens has not seen a proper renovation in years. Instead, the municipal corporation has fixed it in patches, resembling a beggar’s tattered dress, with black, fresh tar, sewn over the broken areas.
Like teenager’s acne, Alwar suddenly erupts out of the highway (or whatever that patchy road was). Resembling any other small town on important roots, this town also has a string of tyre, automotive spare parts and tractor shops. Shops line up like errant and ill-disciplined school children in an assembly hall, forming an irregular line. They are all small, with tin boards proclaiming their trade and shuttered. Some enterprising brand names have wormed their way in here, obviously, sensing the potential of C-class cities. We bump our way through the entire stretch of the town, passing through a couple of ‘important’ squares, and roundabouts. One such, turning to the left, leads us to the railway station, beyond which is a small outskirts village of Manduska, our object of visit here.
Manduska is much smaller than Alwar, not exactly a typical village, like Tatarpur, which we had crossed just before entering Alwar. Dusty roads, tiny shops, rickshaws, mud and people in penury greet us here.
In Rajasthan, history is there on your face, assertive and dominant. One just cannot ignore it, for the entire landscape is punctuated with forts and castles- some taken care of by the government (or the surviving generations of the royalty), others left to perish with their arcane tales buried between the solid rocks. One can only guess and imagine the purpose of a lone structure standing desolately overlooking the sprawling highway. The mountains few and far between (another of nature’s mysterious surprises of this land) are brown and dusty and dry and bear the burdens of age and barrenness. Again, they are not consistent, with their presence coming in spurts and fits. Brown, ochre and yellow are the most dominant colors of this bucolic terrain.
After Alwar, our journey brought us to many such villages, no need to list all of them- of these the most prominent was Deeg, which again has a fort, and an accompanying lake. Deeg, unfortunately, apart from its past splendor, has a more recent and current story of power, murder and conceit running through its veins. Deeg runs through a part rocky, part sandy arterial narrow road, concealing much more behind those tin-roofed kiosks and shops.
Our last stop on this route is Bharatpur- famous and well identified on the tourist map for its Bird Sanctuary. But before we reached there we had a funny misfortune. Having not taken lunch en route, we were famished by late afternoon. An alluring signboard of a sort of resort beckoned us in its inviting bright brown colors. It was two kilometers from the highway, on a small dirt track, that ended up in a small mud village, with a kind of fort looming ominously over it. The entrance to the fort was through a steep climb; even the otherwise healthy Endeavor heaved through the gradient. The fort was indeed very ominous, made of solid stone, and a huge iron gate. It looked a bit too run down to be a inhabited, thought the signboard had clearly proclaimed it to be a resort. On inspection, and our call, a dour waiter produced itself. Lunch milega, we asked expectantly. His incredulous reply was, sorry; no…you do not have a booking for lunch. With our jaws dropped, we stared at him in dumb incredulity. Booking? For Lunch? Amazing, no!
A peep into the fort confirmed our worst fears…we had pushed our luck a bit too far. The place was in ruins; I doubt any one ever came there. The setting was perfect for a shoot of a horror film.
And now on to Bharatpur…Due to the presence of the sanctuary several hotels have sprung up around it to cater to the tourist who would like to stay there overnight (Otherwise, most prefer to make it a day trip, since its 180 kms from Jaipur and only 58 kms from Agra). As in all such tourist destinations, these hotels come in all sizes and shapes and with exotic names like Bird’s Inn, Crane Crib and Peacock Hotel, etc (obviously keeping in mind the sanctuary).
During our search for a suitable place to spend the night there, we stumble upon the most unbelievable, the most unusual and the most pathetic sights of all times- at least none of us could believe our eyes, and none of us had seen it before this day…on the road to Jaipur, just a few kilometers away from the sanctuary, there is actually an open-air brothel! A few meters are lined up with huts and shanties, on both sides, and girls stand on the roadside inviting customers. The girls are decked up in loud and vulgar dresses (a cheap red color being the most favorite), with heavy red lipstick, chalky powder on the face, and a sweet, alluring but false smile on their lips, waving and calling the passing cars. Worse, this seems to be their acknowledged way of living, for routine life goes on around them as usual- old men are sitting on the cots, sleeping (drunk?) and elderly women are chatting or making dinner, or filling water, or removing lice from another’s hair; in short, remove the girls standing there, it is just another a mini-slum that one can even see in the cities now on small roadsides or alleys. It is open prostitution with a stamp of approval from their immediate society. I pity the plight of the girls born in this society (some do not look any older than thirteen years), sucked into this obscene trade for no fault of theirs, and also getting a sanction for doing so by what seemed to be their own family and relatives. If this is real India, then it certainly is not shining. I believe these girls sell their flesh for as low as five hundred rupees.
As we cross the place, my eye catches hold of an obviously more elderly lady sitting on a cot, but also in that same bright red make up. Age and men have already done their rampage on her. Yet, she invites, with her saree pallu dropped down in a futile attempt to look more sexy…but its her eyes that tell all: desperation (to get a client), hope (to get some money) and prayer (to sleep with a tummy full) all rolled together and pasted on her frustratingly facile façade. Our eyes meet, and she makes one last attempt, before I move forward in the car; I have turn back in my seat to see her; her eyes have drooped in sadness…was that a sigh that escaped her horrifyingly red lips?
(We stayed the night in Bharatpur; the next day we left for Jaipur, stopping midway at a few other villages and towns like Dausa, Sikandara- famous for its fine handiwork on soft stone- and Mahua. This journey was quite similar to the one described above, as the landscape did not change much. The Bharatpur-Jaipur highway is no better, and it was a bumpy ride again. On our way, also saw two Jackie Chan films on the VCD of the Endeavor: Thunderbolt and Spanish Connection. While the former was a bit too much of action for me to digest, the latter was quite interesting and resembled those good old sixties movies of Bollywood- with just the right dose of action, and the requisite dash of comedy and romance. Apart from this, the driver was considerate enough to play some beautiful Lata Mangeshkar numbers).
I don’t know how far it is true, malady but I speak from my personal experience – separating a man from his moustaches is quite an impossible task. Hrishikesh Mukherjee built an entire comedy revolving around mouches – remember Golmaal? And Utpal Dutt’s indignant stand – munch nahin toh mard nahin! I sport one. But unlike Utpal Dutt in the film, physician I do not twirl any morality into them; but yes, it seems without them I would be not complete.
Love for moustaches is not hereditary. Even if it is, then I am that perfect exception which always exists in every theory. My father does not sport one, neither did my grandfathers (both sides), none of my mamas, and not my chachas. Yet, as far as I recall I always wanted to have one. I am not sure where the influence came from.
Once the down was established, I never had the courage to remove it. Earlier my mother would often jokingly ask me to remove it, at least to see how I look clean-shaven. But the very thought would send a cold shiver down my spine. The only time I shaved it off was way back in college – that entire week I felt I was roaming naked. After that, I have never attempted. Plus, Lamhe released, and I viewed Anil Kapoor’s stiff upper lip in the first half, painfully aware at his obvious discomfort – while viewing the film, I patted my mouche lovingly – no baby, I am not murdering you ever! Few years later, King Uncle came. There was an entire parody based on Anu Aggarwal trying to get Jackie to trim off his weirdly shaped mouche. Even though I don’t have that horrendous shape, still I payed close attention to the song.
Just in case the girls are feeling left out, let me say it’s quite similar to having your long hair chopped off. I remember the pangs my sister went through when she went in for a new, short hair-style. That furthered my resolve – I wouldn’t subject myself to this mental agony!
Years passed, and off and on I did get the arrant urge off and on to do something drastic; but always controlled these wild thoughts. During these years, I would look with envy and awe at people who could regularly experiment with their face. My elder brother-in-law is one such person – he has tried everything: mustaches, clean-shaven, French beard, full beard – in short, the full works! My younger brother-in-law deserted his mouche, and never returned back to it. His reasoning – too much white hair peeping out there!
On my part I just saw them in mute admiration for their guts, secretly hoping some day I will be brave enough. The maximum I did was to trim off the thick eighties South Indian-film-hero-style bushy crop to a sophisticated slim one; sometimes using the scissor to such effect that it is barely visible. But never went full monty over my upper lip! Thankfully, white hairs (which are quite in abundance over the scalp) have not made their detrimental foray into my mouche!
Before coming to Nepal I had thought of doing so. It’s much easier if you go with a new look to a new place; at least, no one will walk up to you and peer into your face as if you are some exotic animal just escaped from the zoo! But, no – I couldn’t bring myself to it!
Today morning, while shaving, I had that animalistic strong urge again to wipe off the face clean. But as ever, in some innate defence mechanism, the heart beat shot up, the hand trembled, the mouth went dry and the razor looked menacingly but couldn’t complete its act. Before this primeval instinct betrayed me, hastily I moved away from the wash-basin.
But yes, someday I am going to do get over this fear. Also, these days clean-shaven look seems to be in-fashion. When I was growing up, it was the other way round. So, I guess I should be up-to-date with times. Will keep you and this blog posted the day I do ‘the act’!
[As of now, done nothing with the mouche- DJ, April ’06]
[re-posted with ecto]
Shifting back is a tedious process. While coming here things were easy. Initially, ed there were a series of India-visits and I got all the stuff I required slowly and steadily. Plus, over the months I purchased other useful items here. But going back, means packing them all up in one single go. Thankfully, since the decision was taken I had taken few stuff back last time. However, I realise now that the ‘few’ stuff was precisely that only – few! A large bulk remained, and I am at my wits ends getting them all packed or disposing them off.
Employing a packing agency is almost impossible at this short a notice. In any case, I don’t have that many things which would justify employing one. One more issue is that though the agitation has ceased, there is still a districts-wide blockade by Maoists, so I can never be sure when my goods will reach if I send them through road using a packing agent.
Worse, the nineteen-days agitation/curfews meant that I couldn’t move around to complete pending jobs. Some of them were crucial, and involved monetary refunds – mobile connection , internet connection, gas etc. It all opened up yesterday, and I am buried under an avalanche of things to complete. To add to the troubles, the lap-top will also go very shortly, and I am struggling to get personal files out from there, which include a mammoth 2 GB worth of songs, some of them rare Lata Mangeshkar numbers. Woefully, the CD drive has gone for a toss and I can’t store them on discs. I have to find ways of taking them out, and fast at that! Any good suggestion is most welcome!
If that wasn’t enough, then I suddenly got a call from my organisation to return two days earlier, which catapulted the entire process into a dizzying orbit of confusion.
Today’s horoscope in The Himalayan Times seems uncannily true:
A whirlwind surrounds you. You find that plans change. A new friend could appear on the scene. You could be delighted by what a simple call draws. Socialize, reach out for others. Tonight: Meet a friend!
I don’t know about the last part, since the day has yet to unfold completely. But the first two sentences are bang on. Hell, why didn’t I pay attention to these horoscopes earlier!
Anyways, I shall take leave now. For those visiting from previous Random Expressions, warm welcome; for new readers, welcome aboard! This is not a formal launch as yet. That I will do only when I am back in India.
By the time you read this, cheap I will be flying over mighty Himalayas to reach my homeland. Thanks to the facility on WordPress to change the date/time stamp, plague I have deliberately kept this post dated 28th April 2006 – the day I bade farewell to Nepal. I will not get time in the morning to post anything.
I am quite confused as to how to write this post. The past few days have been hectic, and I haven’t had time to assimilate my thoughts. I had planned to write a comprehensive post covering key aspects of my stay here, but I think that one will have to wait.Â
Right now, emotions are strong, and I will allow myself to immerse in them.
For me, leaving a country/city/home is not new. I have been doing it since I was eleven month’s old, courtesy my father’s transferable job. Yet, everytime there is always a surge of feelings which refuse to be categorized - most are expected ones like sorrow (at leaving a place, a city, a house where time is spent), happiness (at going back to parents) and nervousness (involving packing), but some are uncharacteristic, of which I will mention one : regret! Regret that I could have done something more substantial here, something more concrete and useful! There is a uncanny thought running in my mind that I am leaving something incomplete here! Well, I will leave it at that because try as much as I want to I am unable to put the thoughts into word correctly here; maybe later when I have more time, I will try to unravel this one in detail!
It’s the reactions of the people I was associated with that has caught me by absolute surprise. All along, I had maintained a friendly but distanced and professional relationship with them. Suddenly, I have been inundated by overwhelmingly sweet mails/calls/gifts; and that has left an irrepressible lump in my throat.
Seeing this, somewhere, somehow I feel I have succeeded as a human being.
To end my stay here, like a sumptuous dessert after a fulfilling meal, I had the good chance of meeting a blogger. However, the meet details will have to be wait for now.
Right now, let me just say – Farewell Nepal , and I hope peace reigns here soon; Will miss you terribly, and yes be ready to welcome me if I come here again 🙂
By the time you read this, cheap I will be flying over mighty Himalayas to reach my homeland. Thanks to the facility on WordPress to change the date/time stamp, plague I have deliberately kept this post dated 28th April 2006 – the day I bade farewell to Nepal. I will not get time in the morning to post anything.
I am quite confused as to how to write this post. The past few days have been hectic, and I haven’t had time to assimilate my thoughts. I had planned to write a comprehensive post covering key aspects of my stay here, but I think that one will have to wait.Â
Right now, emotions are strong, and I will allow myself to immerse in them.
For me, leaving a country/city/home is not new. I have been doing it since I was eleven month’s old, courtesy my father’s transferable job. Yet, everytime there is always a surge of feelings which refuse to be categorized - most are expected ones like sorrow (at leaving a place, a city, a house where time is spent), happiness (at going back to parents) and nervousness (involving packing), but some are uncharacteristic, of which I will mention one : regret! Regret that I could have done something more substantial here, something more concrete and useful! There is a uncanny thought running in my mind that I am leaving something incomplete here! Well, I will leave it at that because try as much as I want to I am unable to put the thoughts into word correctly here; maybe later when I have more time, I will try to unravel this one in detail!
It’s the reactions of the people I was associated with that has caught me by absolute surprise. All along, I had maintained a friendly but distanced and professional relationship with them. Suddenly, I have been inundated by overwhelmingly sweet mails/calls/gifts; and that has left an irrepressible lump in my throat.
Seeing this, somewhere, somehow I feel I have succeeded as a human being.
To end my stay here, like a sumptuous dessert after a fulfilling meal, I had the good chance of meeting a blogger. However, the meet details will have to be wait for now.
Right now, let me just say – Farewell Nepal , and I hope peace reigns here soon; Will miss you terribly, and yes be ready to welcome me if I come here again 🙂
Suddenly it all went topsy-turvy.
Coming back home should have been easy, sick and comfortable. And that’s what I had thought too. Till the time I unpacked my bags here, and realized that nineteen months is quite a long time for new routines to settle in, which I weren’t aware of, or had missed during my brief two-three days visit every month. These changes, although subtle, can be quite irritating.
Also, I had myself got used to the carefree ways of living alone, so getting back into the routine groove took some time. To add to the woes, my laptop went away with the old job. Hence, I was technologically a bit crippled. Getting a new PC, and then an internet connection was a tedious process, made more tedious with the amount of options available, making me wonder whether it was better to live in a place where choices were limited?
Anyway, I shall skip the details here. As also, will skip the lament about Delhi’s awful temperatures! It’s an annual recurrence, and each year seems more ‘tough’ than the previous ones; I am pretty tired of hearing ‘par picchle saal itni garmi nahi thi…’ when the fact is every year has its own share of ‘hottest’ days. Amusingly, the same thing is said in winters with the season changed in the above sentence!
I am still struggling in getting ‘settled’, though with an internet connection now, I feel much at home!
With this post, I also formally launch the site, and will be now onwards regular in posting here! Keep reading!
I am not really a news freak; at the most, refractionist I view the various news channels (and there seem to be quite a lot of them!) with nothing more than a perfunctory interest, condom stopping at them just long enough to catch the headlines. Beyond this, epilepsy their utility seems suspect. At times, they look idiots pretending to be intellectuals.
This sudden deluge of news is unbalancing, especially since I have lived without TV for long.
Even the size of newspapers is shocking. In Kathmandu, leading English dailies like Himalayan Times were at the most 12-16 pages, while Kathmandu Post finished in 6 pages; no supplements, no add-ons! In Delhi, the newspapers seem to be more weight-lifting instruments than reading materials!
Electricity Shortage Coverage
Delhi’s electricity woes are quite legendary. Hence, I didn’t find it very odd that despite privatization the situation is only marginally better, but overall quite status quo as before. Hence, I found it very funny the way all channels went ad nauseum about the power shortage in the past few days. Funnier sights were the way they interviewed some citizens, and collected a small crowd together clucking their tongues and grumbling about the power situation. You had this fifty plus gentleman with a serious face cribbing about For all you know, that person would have literally grown up without electricity in his childhood; I am sure the situation is much better than that now! There was a young yuppy-ish father lamenting on loss of study time for children, while two precocious kids smiled gleefully into the camera, not really looking that concerned about missed studies! Another lady came on, more content that she was on camera, than making any serious point about power generation.
The entire sequence wore a grotesquely comic look, and gave a farcical effect –an attempt at making serious news out of nothing! Surprisingly, there was no soundbyte from the power company honchos or government powers-that-be, which could have somewhat added value to the show. Overall I fail to understand the purpose of creating such a program- there is power shortage, inform it and move on; what was the point of creating a masquerade that served no better purpose other than probably making those who came on-screen call up their friends and relatives to boast that ‘they came on TV’!
That was one instance. The other was obviously the detailed coverage of Pramod Mahajan. This was kind of given in today’s world. Celebrity sickness and death have become the nation’s entertainment. However, it all depends on the celebrity and the way he/she choses to die!
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Celebrity Deaths
Two celebrity deaths in a week’s span were shocking. But it’s the print media’s coverage of both that left me extremely cold (I will only mention print media here, as I skipped the television channels). While Pramod Mahajan got full front page space, music maestro Naushad’s demise was relegated to small column corners.
This only led me to think on two aspects – a) are we really a nation crazed and obsessed with politicians, politics and power, while finer things like arts/artistic talent are relegated to sidelines? b) Or, are we so given to sensationalism that a normal death hardly matters to anyone, even if the person involved is someone of Naushad’s stature!
Following is a letter I shot off to Hindustan Times (and published today; print edition):
Pramod Mahajan’s family has suffered a great deal but as a politician he didn’t do much for the average citizen. On the other hand, Naushad’s music has charmed millions down the ages and continues to entertain. If the media reports on the basis of a person’s influence on people is to be taken, then surely Naushad’s death should have been given at least half as much space as was devoted to politican Mahajan?
Particularly galling was the fact that responsible newspapers like Times of India got their facts completely wrong – Pakeezah was not Naushad’s score! To put it up as a choice on their daily vote was downright pathetic. Pakeezah’s major portion of music is by Ghulam Mohammad, and Naushad Saab only did the background score and one ‘tarana’ after Mohammad’s death.
More likely, the difference in the coverage by newspapers lies in the third option: it’s the “age of the present†– ‘chadte sooraj ko pranaam karna’ is a famous saying in Hindi. And Naushad Saab was definitely not at his prime when he died. In this jet-age where a two month old song becomes eligible to be featured in ‘bhooli bisre geet’ program, Naushad was a relic from a forgotten era. Many youngsters would not even know his name, though they might dance to a remix from his ouvre.
Perhaps, it’s time to think and stop a while that in our race to move ahead, in this mad rush to be on the top, we are forgetting a lot of our past – be it the freedom fighters, or the artistes, or more near us, our grandparents/elders! Wasn’t Rang De Basanti really trying to say this?
I will not condone the way actor Rajkumar’s fans went berserk, bringing the entire city to a complete halt. That was the other extreme.
I am sure there is a middle path that will honor the legend adequately, as well as keep the news diarrhea in check!
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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I admit I am not too well versed in Kalpana Lajmi’s cinema, this web
and haven’t watched any of her films barring the refreshingly honest Ek Pal. My association with her is restricted to Lata Mangeshkar’s extremely eloquent ‘Dil Hoom Hoom Kare’ from Rudaali. Hence, sick
I approached Chingaari with an open mind, and to say it left me cold is a major understatement.
Chingaari is one of those B-and-C-grade films masquerading as an art film. It is a puerile and pathetic piece of cinema that has neither the content nor flow to captivate audiences. It seems Lajmi’s intention was to shock and sensationalise the audience without any care for aesthetics or form.
The story is set in a typical North Indian village, Rangpur which has a designated red light area called Lal Batti (how unimaginative!). The gullible villagers are firmly held in tight clutches of the evil head-priest Bhuvan Panda (Mithun Chakraborty), who abuses his authority for own selfish motives. He keeps them involved in meaningless religious mumbo-jumbos instigating fear in their heart to retain his superiority over them. He uses illogical rites like making a naked virgin girl sit on his lap, while he places himself over a corpse, in order to exorcise the dead man’s evil spirit! Even though he berates prostitutes, resorting to physical and verbal abuse even if they so much as touch the Goddess’ idol inadvertently, still he has no qualms in spending the nights at their place – practicing wild, kinky and sadist sex!
One such prostitute is Basanti (Sushmita Sen), who lives with her daughter Titli, and ekes out her living in that deplorable condition.
In this murky environment enters the fresh, educated and young postman Chandan Mishra (Anuj Sawhney). Like any villager postman, he not only delivers letters, but reads them out and writes for them, and in a sense he becomes a confidante, friend and mentor to them. An unstated, muted and sublime love develops between Chadan and Basanti, cemented by his affection for the latter’s fatherless daughter! He also instigates revolt against Bhuvan Panda.
No doubt the love story between the postman and the prostitute (incidentally, the film’s original title as well) is good, and could have been a classy saga of romance, sacrifice and valor. Unfortunately, Lajmi seems to have seen too many Neha Dhupia flicks of late, hence it ends up being a loud, crass and disgusting melodrama.
The narrative moves in jerks and fits, and the screenplay is shoddy. There is no continuum in the movement, and several unwanted scenes are repetitive or too lengthy for comfort; the running time is also inordinately long; looks as if the editor just did not know his job. Sequences where the prostitutes are interacting are gross. Sushmita’s introduction scene where she instigates two colleagues fighting over a customer and urges them to use words like ‘randi’ and ‘chinaal’ is horrible.
The dialogues are crappy, peppered liberally with obscenities and profanities and are written only to evoke shock value. The climax is hilarious – Sushmita goes to the village temple with her hair flying wild, drums beating and picks up a trishul and kills Bhuvan Panda – it’s straight from those forgettable mid-eighties dacoit/revenge dramas that had infested Bollywood that time!
Production value is shoddy and camera work is tacky. The music (by Adesh Srivastava) is nothing to write home (or anywhere) about.
Sushmita Sen gives a relatively good performance, though she appears too urban to pass off as a rustic prostitute convincingly. Anuj Sawhney is adequate. But Mithun Chakraborty is too tired and haggard! Ila Arun, as the red light area’s head-madame, is ok.
The film does nothing to sensitize against the prostitute’s plight; nor does it help to lay spotlight on interior
India’s woeful condition. In the end, it’s not even good cinema. This chingaari fizzles out without lighting any fire. I hope Lajmi drops the ‘neice of Guru Dutt’ tag for the time being till she returns with a more meaningful and involving film!
Overall: Avoid
Side Notes
While on prostitutes, I read the following somewhere: during the shoot of Kalyug abroad, Deepal Shaw was mistaken for a whore by another one from the tribe there! Despite liking Shaw in that film, my overall impression of her is that – to put it very bluntly – she looks like a slut! Her music videos are largely responsible for giving that image. In the write-up that I read, Shaw narrated this incident with obvious glee. I don’t know about her, but if I were in her place, I would have taken serious offence and not publicize this fact and, more importantly, do some serious introspection!
Secondly, who is that goddamn singer who has screeched ‘Aa darr ke marr’ from Darna Zaroori Hai! It’s the most irritating, grating and awful voice I have heard in recent times. If the brief given to her was to sound sexy and scary at the same time, she has got it widely wrong! Why does Ram Gopal Verma waste money and time in recording songs which no one is going to buy? Stardust (April 2006) carries a piece on Verma’s deteriorating position in the industry. Though Stardust in itself is a gossip magazine, but still some facts are true and cannot be ignored – his films (except Sarkar) have all flopped, his proteges are deserting him and his financers are distancing themselves.
Hope Darna Zaroori Hai bails him out. I liked the first part (Darna Marna Hai) and am eagerly awaiting the release of the second one now!
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
This review was written the same day I saw the film, dermatologist
which was on 4th February. But seeing the overwhelmingly positive reactions for the film didn’t have heart to publish it. Till the time I told Anubha about its existence. She reprimanded me for not putting it up and reminded me that on my blog I had complete right to write whatever I felt. True, help
perhaps I have been playing to the gallery quite a lot, visit this
and taking ‘the popular’ tag a bit too seriously than warranted. Thanks Anubha for the reality check!
Blame it on the huge expectation – but fact is I found Rang De Basanti just about ok, a different film, but just about that. Somehow it couldn’t involve me into its narration. There were too many incoherent details which left me cold – some were minor quibbles regarding Delhi’s depiction: why the hell did Sonia (Soha Ali) take Sue via Red Fort if they were going to University from Delhi Airport? There is a much shorter and convenient route! And then, that was clearly not anywhere close to Delhi University for sure! It was India Habitat Center passed off as DU!
Even though Rakeysh Mehra struggles to deploy a conventional story telling format, he is unable to fully discard the now-standard jump-cuts and fast-track editing styles; at few crucial points these neo-modern techniques crop up horrifyingly. The post-interval lathi charge scene is one prime example. Instead of gripping the audience in a tight-fist and knocking a solid punch, he shows a collage alternating between slow-motion and hazy movements with a dull song in the background. The entire sequence’s steam, whose build-up begins with Ajay Rathod’s death, dissipates away like a pressure cooker rudely taken off the burner!
The transformation of youth doesn’t come around neatly. I kept thinking of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s Swades, and how he had handled Mohan Bhargav’s transition smoothly! Here, it is erratic and abrupt. Also, in Swades the awakening is not linked to personal tragedy, making it more sublime. Here it seems more like those eighties personal vendetta film wearing a neo-modern cloak!
The story is interesting – but the climax is very shoddy: it takes away the entire thrust of the film’s message. Here, I am not talking about the defence minister’s too-easy-to-be-true murder, which can be accorded to the director’s creative license. But it’s the death of all protagonists which I could not digest. Does the maker want to tell the youth that if they have to do something for the country they will necessarily be killed? And does it really make the nation rise in protest? Except for a few shots of some students talking to NDTV, which sounded like a storm in a teacup and extremely unconvincing, the film-maker remains stunningly silent on their action’s impact. To me, their sacrifice looked futile. Plus, where did the Commandos come from? And why?
Agreed that Rakeysh Mehra wanted to draw a parallel to Bhagat Singh et al, but shouldn’t the climax have moved away to show the difference of the eras and of the youth, then and now! I feel an intelligent comparison need not be hundred percent overlapping – though the rising could be compared but the end needed much brain which was definitely not put to use. A mature writer draws parallel, brings them to a crossroad, but from there takes it to a separate and higher denouement. And this is where the film fails, and the reason why it couldn’t touch me at all.
Another fact which irked me was Sue’s character – did Mehra really have to use a foreigner to awaken youth-conscience and youth conscious? Is this some surreptitious handshake with old British ideology that ‘it is always white man’s burden’ to take care of Indians? Sorry, Mehra – an upright Indian NGO worker could have made the point more clear and driven home the fact more scathingly – and if Mehra feels that such people don’t exist, sorry he needs to open his wider!
On the plus side – the film gives ample space to every character though it could have incorporated a bit on Soha Ali and Sharman Joshi’s background/home as well.
Performance-wise the film is a topper – Soha Ali is a huge revelation especially after her wooden acting in Dil Maange More. She slips into her character’s skin effortlessly. Sharman Joshi, Kunal Kapoor and Atul Kulkarni live their part with aplomb. Siddharth, who gets maximum footage amongst the supporting cast, is a delight to watch, especially his voice modulation was impeccable (not sure if he has done the dubbing himself!). Alice Patten, with her cute night-class Hindi, is sweet and understated. Madhavan shines in his guest appearance.
But the mother of all performances is given by veteran Waheeda Rahman in her brief but strong role as Ajay’s mother. In one scene, after her son’s death, she is shown walking towards the door – her back is towards the camera, yet her entire body language, the minor tremor, the slight limp as she walks shows a seasoned actor at work! It’s a one small shot, where she is not even facing the camera – yet, she literally walks away with all accolades!
There are some smaller but solid parts – Om Puri, Kirron Kher and Anupam Kher who do their bit fabulously.
AR Rahman’s music is good in parts, though his background score was lacking – the odd sound during Jallianwala Bagh sequence was probably meant to stir hearts, but it shook the ears more! Lata Mangeshkar’s Lukka Chhupi Bahut Hui brings a lump, and that entire sequence is very well handled (though a personal grouse will remain for editing a bulk of Lataji’s portion). Of the other songs, Mohe mohe tu rang de basanti, Paathshaala and Tu bin bataye are ok. In ‘Mohe mohe’ Mehra picks up a few leaves from Yash Chopra’s films and shows flowing mustard fields and pulsating Punjab in satiated sway – given a choice, I’d prefer the tranquil pace of ‘Aisa des hai mera’ from Veer Zaara!
I understand the film is doing very well, and I have only read praise for it – perhaps, I am getting old to enjoy these ‘youthful’ films, but once again I would leave by mentioning Swades – the patriotism, the inner journey presented in that film was far superior to RDB’s graffiti-like cocktail!
Overall: Above average
Also check out: Saba's brilliant review of the same film
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
The state of Rajasthan presents a delightful collage of vibrant colors. From the greens of Bharatpur to the pink of Jaipur to the ochre of the deserts, help
this state should be nominated as God’s own palette.
An opportunity to traverse a small slice of this rustic and splendid state presented to me yesterday. Traveling in the sturdy Ford Endeavor, we were three of us, who started the tour from Behror, a small, mid-way village between Delhi and Jaipur. From there on, we broke off civilization and the highway to course our way through ill-constructed and bumpy road towards Alwar, a town famous for its ‘maava’, a milk product.
The rains have finally opened their abundant baggage on the thirsty fields, which sway with fulsome pleasure in their dark greenery. The dotted road that cuts through the greens has not seen a proper renovation in years. Instead, the municipal corporation has fixed it in patches, resembling a beggar’s tattered dress, with black, fresh tar, sewn over the broken areas.
Like teenager’s acne, Alwar suddenly erupts out of the highway (or whatever that patchy road was). Resembling any other small town on important roots, this town also has a string of tyre, automotive spare parts and tractor shops. Shops line up like errant and ill-disciplined school children in an assembly hall, forming an irregular line. They are all small, with tin boards proclaiming their trade and shuttered. Some enterprising brand names have wormed their way in here, obviously, sensing the potential of C-class cities. We bump our way through the entire stretch of the town, passing through a couple of ‘important’ squares, and roundabouts. One such, turning to the left, leads us to the railway station, beyond which is a small outskirts village of Manduska, our object of visit here.
Manduska is much smaller than Alwar, not exactly a typical village, like Tatarpur, which we had crossed just before entering Alwar. Dusty roads, tiny shops, rickshaws, mud and people in penury greet us here.
In Rajasthan, history is there on your face, assertive and dominant. One just cannot ignore it, for the entire landscape is punctuated with forts and castles- some taken care of by the government (or the surviving generations of the royalty), others left to perish with their arcane tales buried between the solid rocks. One can only guess and imagine the purpose of a lone structure standing desolately overlooking the sprawling highway. The mountains few and far between (another of nature’s mysterious surprises of this land) are brown and dusty and dry and bear the burdens of age and barrenness. Again, they are not consistent, with their presence coming in spurts and fits. Brown, ochre and yellow are the most dominant colors of this bucolic terrain.
After Alwar, our journey brought us to many such villages, no need to list all of them- of these the most prominent was Deeg, which again has a fort, and an accompanying lake. Deeg, unfortunately, apart from its past splendor, has a more recent and current story of power, murder and conceit running through its veins. Deeg runs through a part rocky, part sandy arterial narrow road, concealing much more behind those tin-roofed kiosks and shops.
Our last stop on this route is Bharatpur- famous and well identified on the tourist map for its Bird Sanctuary. But before we reached there we had a funny misfortune. Having not taken lunch en route, we were famished by late afternoon. An alluring signboard of a sort of resort beckoned us in its inviting bright brown colors. It was two kilometers from the highway, on a small dirt track, that ended up in a small mud village, with a kind of fort looming ominously over it. The entrance to the fort was through a steep climb; even the otherwise healthy Endeavor heaved through the gradient. The fort was indeed very ominous, made of solid stone, and a huge iron gate. It looked a bit too run down to be a inhabited, thought the signboard had clearly proclaimed it to be a resort. On inspection, and our call, a dour waiter produced itself. Lunch milega, we asked expectantly. His incredulous reply was, sorry; no…you do not have a booking for lunch. With our jaws dropped, we stared at him in dumb incredulity. Booking? For Lunch? Amazing, no!
A peep into the fort confirmed our worst fears…we had pushed our luck a bit too far. The place was in ruins; I doubt any one ever came there. The setting was perfect for a shoot of a horror film.
And now on to Bharatpur…Due to the presence of the sanctuary several hotels have sprung up around it to cater to the tourist who would like to stay there overnight (Otherwise, most prefer to make it a day trip, since its 180 kms from Jaipur and only 58 kms from Agra). As in all such tourist destinations, these hotels come in all sizes and shapes and with exotic names like Bird’s Inn, Crane Crib and Peacock Hotel, etc (obviously keeping in mind the sanctuary).
During our search for a suitable place to spend the night there, we stumble upon the most unbelievable, the most unusual and the most pathetic sights of all times- at least none of us could believe our eyes, and none of us had seen it before this day…on the road to Jaipur, just a few kilometers away from the sanctuary, there is actually an open-air brothel! A few meters are lined up with huts and shanties, on both sides, and girls stand on the roadside inviting customers. The girls are decked up in loud and vulgar dresses (a cheap red color being the most favorite), with heavy red lipstick, chalky powder on the face, and a sweet, alluring but false smile on their lips, waving and calling the passing cars. Worse, this seems to be their acknowledged way of living, for routine life goes on around them as usual- old men are sitting on the cots, sleeping (drunk?) and elderly women are chatting or making dinner, or filling water, or removing lice from another’s hair; in short, remove the girls standing there, it is just another a mini-slum that one can even see in the cities now on small roadsides or alleys. It is open prostitution with a stamp of approval from their immediate society. I pity the plight of the girls born in this society (some do not look any older than thirteen years), sucked into this obscene trade for no fault of theirs, and also getting a sanction for doing so by what seemed to be their own family and relatives. If this is real India, then it certainly is not shining. I believe these girls sell their flesh for as low as five hundred rupees.
As we cross the place, my eye catches hold of an obviously more elderly lady sitting on a cot, but also in that same bright red make up. Age and men have already done their rampage on her. Yet, she invites, with her saree pallu dropped down in a futile attempt to look more sexy…but its her eyes that tell all: desperation (to get a client), hope (to get some money) and prayer (to sleep with a tummy full) all rolled together and pasted on her frustratingly facile façade. Our eyes meet, and she makes one last attempt, before I move forward in the car; I have turn back in my seat to see her; her eyes have drooped in sadness…was that a sigh that escaped her horrifyingly red lips?
(We stayed the night in Bharatpur; the next day we left for Jaipur, stopping midway at a few other villages and towns like Dausa, Sikandara- famous for its fine handiwork on soft stone- and Mahua. This journey was quite similar to the one described above, as the landscape did not change much. The Bharatpur-Jaipur highway is no better, and it was a bumpy ride again. On our way, also saw two Jackie Chan films on the VCD of the Endeavor: Thunderbolt and Spanish Connection. While the former was a bit too much of action for me to digest, the latter was quite interesting and resembled those good old sixties movies of Bollywood- with just the right dose of action, and the requisite dash of comedy and romance. Apart from this, the driver was considerate enough to play some beautiful Lata Mangeshkar numbers).
I don’t know how far it is true, malady but I speak from my personal experience – separating a man from his moustaches is quite an impossible task. Hrishikesh Mukherjee built an entire comedy revolving around mouches – remember Golmaal? And Utpal Dutt’s indignant stand – munch nahin toh mard nahin! I sport one. But unlike Utpal Dutt in the film, physician I do not twirl any morality into them; but yes, it seems without them I would be not complete.
Love for moustaches is not hereditary. Even if it is, then I am that perfect exception which always exists in every theory. My father does not sport one, neither did my grandfathers (both sides), none of my mamas, and not my chachas. Yet, as far as I recall I always wanted to have one. I am not sure where the influence came from.
Once the down was established, I never had the courage to remove it. Earlier my mother would often jokingly ask me to remove it, at least to see how I look clean-shaven. But the very thought would send a cold shiver down my spine. The only time I shaved it off was way back in college – that entire week I felt I was roaming naked. After that, I have never attempted. Plus, Lamhe released, and I viewed Anil Kapoor’s stiff upper lip in the first half, painfully aware at his obvious discomfort – while viewing the film, I patted my mouche lovingly – no baby, I am not murdering you ever! Few years later, King Uncle came. There was an entire parody based on Anu Aggarwal trying to get Jackie to trim off his weirdly shaped mouche. Even though I don’t have that horrendous shape, still I payed close attention to the song.
Just in case the girls are feeling left out, let me say it’s quite similar to having your long hair chopped off. I remember the pangs my sister went through when she went in for a new, short hair-style. That furthered my resolve – I wouldn’t subject myself to this mental agony!
Years passed, and off and on I did get the arrant urge off and on to do something drastic; but always controlled these wild thoughts. During these years, I would look with envy and awe at people who could regularly experiment with their face. My elder brother-in-law is one such person – he has tried everything: mustaches, clean-shaven, French beard, full beard – in short, the full works! My younger brother-in-law deserted his mouche, and never returned back to it. His reasoning – too much white hair peeping out there!
On my part I just saw them in mute admiration for their guts, secretly hoping some day I will be brave enough. The maximum I did was to trim off the thick eighties South Indian-film-hero-style bushy crop to a sophisticated slim one; sometimes using the scissor to such effect that it is barely visible. But never went full monty over my upper lip! Thankfully, white hairs (which are quite in abundance over the scalp) have not made their detrimental foray into my mouche!
Before coming to Nepal I had thought of doing so. It’s much easier if you go with a new look to a new place; at least, no one will walk up to you and peer into your face as if you are some exotic animal just escaped from the zoo! But, no – I couldn’t bring myself to it!
Today morning, while shaving, I had that animalistic strong urge again to wipe off the face clean. But as ever, in some innate defence mechanism, the heart beat shot up, the hand trembled, the mouth went dry and the razor looked menacingly but couldn’t complete its act. Before this primeval instinct betrayed me, hastily I moved away from the wash-basin.
But yes, someday I am going to do get over this fear. Also, these days clean-shaven look seems to be in-fashion. When I was growing up, it was the other way round. So, I guess I should be up-to-date with times. Will keep you and this blog posted the day I do ‘the act’!
[As of now, done nothing with the mouche- DJ, April ’06]
[re-posted with ecto]
Shifting back is a tedious process. While coming here things were easy. Initially, ed there were a series of India-visits and I got all the stuff I required slowly and steadily. Plus, over the months I purchased other useful items here. But going back, means packing them all up in one single go. Thankfully, since the decision was taken I had taken few stuff back last time. However, I realise now that the ‘few’ stuff was precisely that only – few! A large bulk remained, and I am at my wits ends getting them all packed or disposing them off.
Employing a packing agency is almost impossible at this short a notice. In any case, I don’t have that many things which would justify employing one. One more issue is that though the agitation has ceased, there is still a districts-wide blockade by Maoists, so I can never be sure when my goods will reach if I send them through road using a packing agent.
Worse, the nineteen-days agitation/curfews meant that I couldn’t move around to complete pending jobs. Some of them were crucial, and involved monetary refunds – mobile connection , internet connection, gas etc. It all opened up yesterday, and I am buried under an avalanche of things to complete. To add to the troubles, the lap-top will also go very shortly, and I am struggling to get personal files out from there, which include a mammoth 2 GB worth of songs, some of them rare Lata Mangeshkar numbers. Woefully, the CD drive has gone for a toss and I can’t store them on discs. I have to find ways of taking them out, and fast at that! Any good suggestion is most welcome!
If that wasn’t enough, then I suddenly got a call from my organisation to return two days earlier, which catapulted the entire process into a dizzying orbit of confusion.
Today’s horoscope in The Himalayan Times seems uncannily true:
A whirlwind surrounds you. You find that plans change. A new friend could appear on the scene. You could be delighted by what a simple call draws. Socialize, reach out for others. Tonight: Meet a friend!
I don’t know about the last part, since the day has yet to unfold completely. But the first two sentences are bang on. Hell, why didn’t I pay attention to these horoscopes earlier!
Anyways, I shall take leave now. For those visiting from previous Random Expressions, warm welcome; for new readers, welcome aboard! This is not a formal launch as yet. That I will do only when I am back in India.
By the time you read this, cheap I will be flying over mighty Himalayas to reach my homeland. Thanks to the facility on WordPress to change the date/time stamp, plague I have deliberately kept this post dated 28th April 2006 – the day I bade farewell to Nepal. I will not get time in the morning to post anything.
I am quite confused as to how to write this post. The past few days have been hectic, and I haven’t had time to assimilate my thoughts. I had planned to write a comprehensive post covering key aspects of my stay here, but I think that one will have to wait.Â
Right now, emotions are strong, and I will allow myself to immerse in them.
For me, leaving a country/city/home is not new. I have been doing it since I was eleven month’s old, courtesy my father’s transferable job. Yet, everytime there is always a surge of feelings which refuse to be categorized - most are expected ones like sorrow (at leaving a place, a city, a house where time is spent), happiness (at going back to parents) and nervousness (involving packing), but some are uncharacteristic, of which I will mention one : regret! Regret that I could have done something more substantial here, something more concrete and useful! There is a uncanny thought running in my mind that I am leaving something incomplete here! Well, I will leave it at that because try as much as I want to I am unable to put the thoughts into word correctly here; maybe later when I have more time, I will try to unravel this one in detail!
It’s the reactions of the people I was associated with that has caught me by absolute surprise. All along, I had maintained a friendly but distanced and professional relationship with them. Suddenly, I have been inundated by overwhelmingly sweet mails/calls/gifts; and that has left an irrepressible lump in my throat.
Seeing this, somewhere, somehow I feel I have succeeded as a human being.
To end my stay here, like a sumptuous dessert after a fulfilling meal, I had the good chance of meeting a blogger. However, the meet details will have to be wait for now.
Right now, let me just say – Farewell Nepal , and I hope peace reigns here soon; Will miss you terribly, and yes be ready to welcome me if I come here again 🙂
By the time you read this, cheap I will be flying over mighty Himalayas to reach my homeland. Thanks to the facility on WordPress to change the date/time stamp, plague I have deliberately kept this post dated 28th April 2006 – the day I bade farewell to Nepal. I will not get time in the morning to post anything.
I am quite confused as to how to write this post. The past few days have been hectic, and I haven’t had time to assimilate my thoughts. I had planned to write a comprehensive post covering key aspects of my stay here, but I think that one will have to wait.Â
Right now, emotions are strong, and I will allow myself to immerse in them.
For me, leaving a country/city/home is not new. I have been doing it since I was eleven month’s old, courtesy my father’s transferable job. Yet, everytime there is always a surge of feelings which refuse to be categorized - most are expected ones like sorrow (at leaving a place, a city, a house where time is spent), happiness (at going back to parents) and nervousness (involving packing), but some are uncharacteristic, of which I will mention one : regret! Regret that I could have done something more substantial here, something more concrete and useful! There is a uncanny thought running in my mind that I am leaving something incomplete here! Well, I will leave it at that because try as much as I want to I am unable to put the thoughts into word correctly here; maybe later when I have more time, I will try to unravel this one in detail!
It’s the reactions of the people I was associated with that has caught me by absolute surprise. All along, I had maintained a friendly but distanced and professional relationship with them. Suddenly, I have been inundated by overwhelmingly sweet mails/calls/gifts; and that has left an irrepressible lump in my throat.
Seeing this, somewhere, somehow I feel I have succeeded as a human being.
To end my stay here, like a sumptuous dessert after a fulfilling meal, I had the good chance of meeting a blogger. However, the meet details will have to be wait for now.
Right now, let me just say – Farewell Nepal , and I hope peace reigns here soon; Will miss you terribly, and yes be ready to welcome me if I come here again 🙂
Suddenly it all went topsy-turvy.
Coming back home should have been easy, sick and comfortable. And that’s what I had thought too. Till the time I unpacked my bags here, and realized that nineteen months is quite a long time for new routines to settle in, which I weren’t aware of, or had missed during my brief two-three days visit every month. These changes, although subtle, can be quite irritating.
Also, I had myself got used to the carefree ways of living alone, so getting back into the routine groove took some time. To add to the woes, my laptop went away with the old job. Hence, I was technologically a bit crippled. Getting a new PC, and then an internet connection was a tedious process, made more tedious with the amount of options available, making me wonder whether it was better to live in a place where choices were limited?
Anyway, I shall skip the details here. As also, will skip the lament about Delhi’s awful temperatures! It’s an annual recurrence, and each year seems more ‘tough’ than the previous ones; I am pretty tired of hearing ‘par picchle saal itni garmi nahi thi…’ when the fact is every year has its own share of ‘hottest’ days. Amusingly, the same thing is said in winters with the season changed in the above sentence!
I am still struggling in getting ‘settled’, though with an internet connection now, I feel much at home!
With this post, I also formally launch the site, and will be now onwards regular in posting here! Keep reading!
I am not really a news freak; at the most, refractionist I view the various news channels (and there seem to be quite a lot of them!) with nothing more than a perfunctory interest, condom stopping at them just long enough to catch the headlines. Beyond this, epilepsy their utility seems suspect. At times, they look idiots pretending to be intellectuals.
This sudden deluge of news is unbalancing, especially since I have lived without TV for long.
Even the size of newspapers is shocking. In Kathmandu, leading English dailies like Himalayan Times were at the most 12-16 pages, while Kathmandu Post finished in 6 pages; no supplements, no add-ons! In Delhi, the newspapers seem to be more weight-lifting instruments than reading materials!
Electricity Shortage Coverage
Delhi’s electricity woes are quite legendary. Hence, I didn’t find it very odd that despite privatization the situation is only marginally better, but overall quite status quo as before. Hence, I found it very funny the way all channels went ad nauseum about the power shortage in the past few days. Funnier sights were the way they interviewed some citizens, and collected a small crowd together clucking their tongues and grumbling about the power situation. You had this fifty plus gentleman with a serious face cribbing about For all you know, that person would have literally grown up without electricity in his childhood; I am sure the situation is much better than that now! There was a young yuppy-ish father lamenting on loss of study time for children, while two precocious kids smiled gleefully into the camera, not really looking that concerned about missed studies! Another lady came on, more content that she was on camera, than making any serious point about power generation.
The entire sequence wore a grotesquely comic look, and gave a farcical effect –an attempt at making serious news out of nothing! Surprisingly, there was no soundbyte from the power company honchos or government powers-that-be, which could have somewhat added value to the show. Overall I fail to understand the purpose of creating such a program- there is power shortage, inform it and move on; what was the point of creating a masquerade that served no better purpose other than probably making those who came on-screen call up their friends and relatives to boast that ‘they came on TV’!
That was one instance. The other was obviously the detailed coverage of Pramod Mahajan. This was kind of given in today’s world. Celebrity sickness and death have become the nation’s entertainment. However, it all depends on the celebrity and the way he/she choses to die!
Â
Celebrity Deaths
Two celebrity deaths in a week’s span were shocking. But it’s the print media’s coverage of both that left me extremely cold (I will only mention print media here, as I skipped the television channels). While Pramod Mahajan got full front page space, music maestro Naushad’s demise was relegated to small column corners.
This only led me to think on two aspects – a) are we really a nation crazed and obsessed with politicians, politics and power, while finer things like arts/artistic talent are relegated to sidelines? b) Or, are we so given to sensationalism that a normal death hardly matters to anyone, even if the person involved is someone of Naushad’s stature!
Following is a letter I shot off to Hindustan Times (and published today; print edition):
Pramod Mahajan’s family has suffered a great deal but as a politician he didn’t do much for the average citizen. On the other hand, Naushad’s music has charmed millions down the ages and continues to entertain. If the media reports on the basis of a person’s influence on people is to be taken, then surely Naushad’s death should have been given at least half as much space as was devoted to politican Mahajan?
Particularly galling was the fact that responsible newspapers like Times of India got their facts completely wrong – Pakeezah was not Naushad’s score! To put it up as a choice on their daily vote was downright pathetic. Pakeezah’s major portion of music is by Ghulam Mohammad, and Naushad Saab only did the background score and one ‘tarana’ after Mohammad’s death.
More likely, the difference in the coverage by newspapers lies in the third option: it’s the “age of the present†– ‘chadte sooraj ko pranaam karna’ is a famous saying in Hindi. And Naushad Saab was definitely not at his prime when he died. In this jet-age where a two month old song becomes eligible to be featured in ‘bhooli bisre geet’ program, Naushad was a relic from a forgotten era. Many youngsters would not even know his name, though they might dance to a remix from his ouvre.
Perhaps, it’s time to think and stop a while that in our race to move ahead, in this mad rush to be on the top, we are forgetting a lot of our past – be it the freedom fighters, or the artistes, or more near us, our grandparents/elders! Wasn’t Rang De Basanti really trying to say this?
I will not condone the way actor Rajkumar’s fans went berserk, bringing the entire city to a complete halt. That was the other extreme.
I am sure there is a middle path that will honor the legend adequately, as well as keep the news diarrhea in check!
Last night Zee aired The Hero – Love Story of A Spy ; the film was a box office dud, heart but somehow I had enjoyed it at that time. Watching it again was equally interesting. This was the review I had written to send to Filmfare at that time.
With a song on his lips, viagra 100mg power in his biceps, viagra punch in his voice, here comes our dashing, daring and dynamic hero. He changes his appearance faster than a chameleon, crosses the LOC single-handedly to save his beloved, preaches about nuclear bombs, and wins the hearts of the masses with his charms.Â
With his penchant for Sunny Deol, Pakistan-bashing and climaxes in fast moving trains, Anil Sharma returns with his latest patriotic saga, titled, very aptly- The Hero. The sub-title (Love Story of A Spy) is a misnomer, but then, Gadar (Sharma’s previous big hit) had a ‘love story’ in its name, so we can assume it was added for superstitious benefits. Else, the love story in the film is even less loose than Pakistan’s reason for claiming Kashmir!!!
The story is about Arun Khanna, a RAW spy, who has only one mission in life: to expose ISI Chief Isaaq Khan (Amrish Puri) and his obnoxious plan of handing over nuclear bomb to the Kashmir jehadis. On one such mission to Kashmir, he falls in love with a pretty village belle (Priety Zinta) but loses her due to the evil designs of Khan saab and his coterie. Thereafter, he is back to his mission, exposes Isaaq Khan and finds his beloved back. The film is a potent and vital blend of James Bond’s chutzpah with a dollop of Mission Impossible-like brazenness, laced with just a tinge of emotional sheen of our very own Bollywood. And all this wrapped in a shimmering package of color and charisma.Â
Writer Shaktiman must be commended for penning a script that does not tire one bit- it’s a high-speed neck-breaking ride through the avalanches of Kashmir, to the battle in the jungles, to the scientific maze of a nuclear bomb factory to the ultimate orgasmic-like blowing up of the beautiful engagement-set climaxing with a thrilling, chilling climax in a stark red train against virgin white snow!! Honest, its breathtaking….jhoot bole jo use kaat khaaye bichhua.Â
Priety Zinta gives an honest and heartwarming performance as Reshma, the Kashmiri belle. Priyanka Chopra is wasted in a brief cameo, though she shows some bright sparks in her debut. Amrish Puri regurgitates his Gadar performance (anyway, in how many ways can he be a big bad Pakistani). And what to say of Rajat Bedi, the poor guy came to be a hero. In The Hero is relegated as the villain’s sidekick. Â
And finally, Sunny Deol- he is the Hero– definitive, decisive and dramatic. He proves that he is the men among all the heroes around- the role fits him like a hand in glove- no loose wrinkle anywhere, no open space left anywhere.Â
Uttam Singh’s music is adequate (in any case the songs are sensibly used as an aid to the background score) and the song “Dil mein hai pyaar teraâ€* has the making of a superhit number. The cinematography is bright and dazzling, the editing crisp and crackling, the dialogues pithy and sizzling.Â
Anil Sharma’s direction is full of élan. Though there are some obvious glitches (how can an ISI chief just go to America to catch hold of one man, that too without full precaution?) and some avoidable clichés (the muffler with the initial engraved getting lost and being found by the woe-be-gone heroine was more kitsch than cliché!!!!), still Sharma manages to hold the entire show together in one whole watch able yarn. Yes, The Hero is a mega carnival show- bright, luminous and large-than-life.
Watch it, enjoy it and forget it!!!!
*The song like the film didnt set the charts on fire; personally, I feel its a wonderful composition and deserved to be a hit!
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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I admit I am not too well versed in Kalpana Lajmi’s cinema, this web
and haven’t watched any of her films barring the refreshingly honest Ek Pal. My association with her is restricted to Lata Mangeshkar’s extremely eloquent ‘Dil Hoom Hoom Kare’ from Rudaali. Hence, sick
I approached Chingaari with an open mind, and to say it left me cold is a major understatement.
Chingaari is one of those B-and-C-grade films masquerading as an art film. It is a puerile and pathetic piece of cinema that has neither the content nor flow to captivate audiences. It seems Lajmi’s intention was to shock and sensationalise the audience without any care for aesthetics or form.
The story is set in a typical North Indian village, Rangpur which has a designated red light area called Lal Batti (how unimaginative!). The gullible villagers are firmly held in tight clutches of the evil head-priest Bhuvan Panda (Mithun Chakraborty), who abuses his authority for own selfish motives. He keeps them involved in meaningless religious mumbo-jumbos instigating fear in their heart to retain his superiority over them. He uses illogical rites like making a naked virgin girl sit on his lap, while he places himself over a corpse, in order to exorcise the dead man’s evil spirit! Even though he berates prostitutes, resorting to physical and verbal abuse even if they so much as touch the Goddess’ idol inadvertently, still he has no qualms in spending the nights at their place – practicing wild, kinky and sadist sex!
One such prostitute is Basanti (Sushmita Sen), who lives with her daughter Titli, and ekes out her living in that deplorable condition.
In this murky environment enters the fresh, educated and young postman Chandan Mishra (Anuj Sawhney). Like any villager postman, he not only delivers letters, but reads them out and writes for them, and in a sense he becomes a confidante, friend and mentor to them. An unstated, muted and sublime love develops between Chadan and Basanti, cemented by his affection for the latter’s fatherless daughter! He also instigates revolt against Bhuvan Panda.
No doubt the love story between the postman and the prostitute (incidentally, the film’s original title as well) is good, and could have been a classy saga of romance, sacrifice and valor. Unfortunately, Lajmi seems to have seen too many Neha Dhupia flicks of late, hence it ends up being a loud, crass and disgusting melodrama.
The narrative moves in jerks and fits, and the screenplay is shoddy. There is no continuum in the movement, and several unwanted scenes are repetitive or too lengthy for comfort; the running time is also inordinately long; looks as if the editor just did not know his job. Sequences where the prostitutes are interacting are gross. Sushmita’s introduction scene where she instigates two colleagues fighting over a customer and urges them to use words like ‘randi’ and ‘chinaal’ is horrible.
The dialogues are crappy, peppered liberally with obscenities and profanities and are written only to evoke shock value. The climax is hilarious – Sushmita goes to the village temple with her hair flying wild, drums beating and picks up a trishul and kills Bhuvan Panda – it’s straight from those forgettable mid-eighties dacoit/revenge dramas that had infested Bollywood that time!
Production value is shoddy and camera work is tacky. The music (by Adesh Srivastava) is nothing to write home (or anywhere) about.
Sushmita Sen gives a relatively good performance, though she appears too urban to pass off as a rustic prostitute convincingly. Anuj Sawhney is adequate. But Mithun Chakraborty is too tired and haggard! Ila Arun, as the red light area’s head-madame, is ok.
The film does nothing to sensitize against the prostitute’s plight; nor does it help to lay spotlight on interior
India’s woeful condition. In the end, it’s not even good cinema. This chingaari fizzles out without lighting any fire. I hope Lajmi drops the ‘neice of Guru Dutt’ tag for the time being till she returns with a more meaningful and involving film!
Overall: Avoid
Side Notes
While on prostitutes, I read the following somewhere: during the shoot of Kalyug abroad, Deepal Shaw was mistaken for a whore by another one from the tribe there! Despite liking Shaw in that film, my overall impression of her is that – to put it very bluntly – she looks like a slut! Her music videos are largely responsible for giving that image. In the write-up that I read, Shaw narrated this incident with obvious glee. I don’t know about her, but if I were in her place, I would have taken serious offence and not publicize this fact and, more importantly, do some serious introspection!
Secondly, who is that goddamn singer who has screeched ‘Aa darr ke marr’ from Darna Zaroori Hai! It’s the most irritating, grating and awful voice I have heard in recent times. If the brief given to her was to sound sexy and scary at the same time, she has got it widely wrong! Why does Ram Gopal Verma waste money and time in recording songs which no one is going to buy? Stardust (April 2006) carries a piece on Verma’s deteriorating position in the industry. Though Stardust in itself is a gossip magazine, but still some facts are true and cannot be ignored – his films (except Sarkar) have all flopped, his proteges are deserting him and his financers are distancing themselves.
Hope Darna Zaroori Hai bails him out. I liked the first part (Darna Marna Hai) and am eagerly awaiting the release of the second one now!
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
This review was written the same day I saw the film, dermatologist
which was on 4th February. But seeing the overwhelmingly positive reactions for the film didn’t have heart to publish it. Till the time I told Anubha about its existence. She reprimanded me for not putting it up and reminded me that on my blog I had complete right to write whatever I felt. True, help
perhaps I have been playing to the gallery quite a lot, visit this
and taking ‘the popular’ tag a bit too seriously than warranted. Thanks Anubha for the reality check!
Blame it on the huge expectation – but fact is I found Rang De Basanti just about ok, a different film, but just about that. Somehow it couldn’t involve me into its narration. There were too many incoherent details which left me cold – some were minor quibbles regarding Delhi’s depiction: why the hell did Sonia (Soha Ali) take Sue via Red Fort if they were going to University from Delhi Airport? There is a much shorter and convenient route! And then, that was clearly not anywhere close to Delhi University for sure! It was India Habitat Center passed off as DU!
Even though Rakeysh Mehra struggles to deploy a conventional story telling format, he is unable to fully discard the now-standard jump-cuts and fast-track editing styles; at few crucial points these neo-modern techniques crop up horrifyingly. The post-interval lathi charge scene is one prime example. Instead of gripping the audience in a tight-fist and knocking a solid punch, he shows a collage alternating between slow-motion and hazy movements with a dull song in the background. The entire sequence’s steam, whose build-up begins with Ajay Rathod’s death, dissipates away like a pressure cooker rudely taken off the burner!
The transformation of youth doesn’t come around neatly. I kept thinking of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s Swades, and how he had handled Mohan Bhargav’s transition smoothly! Here, it is erratic and abrupt. Also, in Swades the awakening is not linked to personal tragedy, making it more sublime. Here it seems more like those eighties personal vendetta film wearing a neo-modern cloak!
The story is interesting – but the climax is very shoddy: it takes away the entire thrust of the film’s message. Here, I am not talking about the defence minister’s too-easy-to-be-true murder, which can be accorded to the director’s creative license. But it’s the death of all protagonists which I could not digest. Does the maker want to tell the youth that if they have to do something for the country they will necessarily be killed? And does it really make the nation rise in protest? Except for a few shots of some students talking to NDTV, which sounded like a storm in a teacup and extremely unconvincing, the film-maker remains stunningly silent on their action’s impact. To me, their sacrifice looked futile. Plus, where did the Commandos come from? And why?
Agreed that Rakeysh Mehra wanted to draw a parallel to Bhagat Singh et al, but shouldn’t the climax have moved away to show the difference of the eras and of the youth, then and now! I feel an intelligent comparison need not be hundred percent overlapping – though the rising could be compared but the end needed much brain which was definitely not put to use. A mature writer draws parallel, brings them to a crossroad, but from there takes it to a separate and higher denouement. And this is where the film fails, and the reason why it couldn’t touch me at all.
Another fact which irked me was Sue’s character – did Mehra really have to use a foreigner to awaken youth-conscience and youth conscious? Is this some surreptitious handshake with old British ideology that ‘it is always white man’s burden’ to take care of Indians? Sorry, Mehra – an upright Indian NGO worker could have made the point more clear and driven home the fact more scathingly – and if Mehra feels that such people don’t exist, sorry he needs to open his wider!
On the plus side – the film gives ample space to every character though it could have incorporated a bit on Soha Ali and Sharman Joshi’s background/home as well.
Performance-wise the film is a topper – Soha Ali is a huge revelation especially after her wooden acting in Dil Maange More. She slips into her character’s skin effortlessly. Sharman Joshi, Kunal Kapoor and Atul Kulkarni live their part with aplomb. Siddharth, who gets maximum footage amongst the supporting cast, is a delight to watch, especially his voice modulation was impeccable (not sure if he has done the dubbing himself!). Alice Patten, with her cute night-class Hindi, is sweet and understated. Madhavan shines in his guest appearance.
But the mother of all performances is given by veteran Waheeda Rahman in her brief but strong role as Ajay’s mother. In one scene, after her son’s death, she is shown walking towards the door – her back is towards the camera, yet her entire body language, the minor tremor, the slight limp as she walks shows a seasoned actor at work! It’s a one small shot, where she is not even facing the camera – yet, she literally walks away with all accolades!
There are some smaller but solid parts – Om Puri, Kirron Kher and Anupam Kher who do their bit fabulously.
AR Rahman’s music is good in parts, though his background score was lacking – the odd sound during Jallianwala Bagh sequence was probably meant to stir hearts, but it shook the ears more! Lata Mangeshkar’s Lukka Chhupi Bahut Hui brings a lump, and that entire sequence is very well handled (though a personal grouse will remain for editing a bulk of Lataji’s portion). Of the other songs, Mohe mohe tu rang de basanti, Paathshaala and Tu bin bataye are ok. In ‘Mohe mohe’ Mehra picks up a few leaves from Yash Chopra’s films and shows flowing mustard fields and pulsating Punjab in satiated sway – given a choice, I’d prefer the tranquil pace of ‘Aisa des hai mera’ from Veer Zaara!
I understand the film is doing very well, and I have only read praise for it – perhaps, I am getting old to enjoy these ‘youthful’ films, but once again I would leave by mentioning Swades – the patriotism, the inner journey presented in that film was far superior to RDB’s graffiti-like cocktail!
Overall: Above average
Also check out: Saba's brilliant review of the same film
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
The state of Rajasthan presents a delightful collage of vibrant colors. From the greens of Bharatpur to the pink of Jaipur to the ochre of the deserts, help
this state should be nominated as God’s own palette.
An opportunity to traverse a small slice of this rustic and splendid state presented to me yesterday. Traveling in the sturdy Ford Endeavor, we were three of us, who started the tour from Behror, a small, mid-way village between Delhi and Jaipur. From there on, we broke off civilization and the highway to course our way through ill-constructed and bumpy road towards Alwar, a town famous for its ‘maava’, a milk product.
The rains have finally opened their abundant baggage on the thirsty fields, which sway with fulsome pleasure in their dark greenery. The dotted road that cuts through the greens has not seen a proper renovation in years. Instead, the municipal corporation has fixed it in patches, resembling a beggar’s tattered dress, with black, fresh tar, sewn over the broken areas.
Like teenager’s acne, Alwar suddenly erupts out of the highway (or whatever that patchy road was). Resembling any other small town on important roots, this town also has a string of tyre, automotive spare parts and tractor shops. Shops line up like errant and ill-disciplined school children in an assembly hall, forming an irregular line. They are all small, with tin boards proclaiming their trade and shuttered. Some enterprising brand names have wormed their way in here, obviously, sensing the potential of C-class cities. We bump our way through the entire stretch of the town, passing through a couple of ‘important’ squares, and roundabouts. One such, turning to the left, leads us to the railway station, beyond which is a small outskirts village of Manduska, our object of visit here.
Manduska is much smaller than Alwar, not exactly a typical village, like Tatarpur, which we had crossed just before entering Alwar. Dusty roads, tiny shops, rickshaws, mud and people in penury greet us here.
In Rajasthan, history is there on your face, assertive and dominant. One just cannot ignore it, for the entire landscape is punctuated with forts and castles- some taken care of by the government (or the surviving generations of the royalty), others left to perish with their arcane tales buried between the solid rocks. One can only guess and imagine the purpose of a lone structure standing desolately overlooking the sprawling highway. The mountains few and far between (another of nature’s mysterious surprises of this land) are brown and dusty and dry and bear the burdens of age and barrenness. Again, they are not consistent, with their presence coming in spurts and fits. Brown, ochre and yellow are the most dominant colors of this bucolic terrain.
After Alwar, our journey brought us to many such villages, no need to list all of them- of these the most prominent was Deeg, which again has a fort, and an accompanying lake. Deeg, unfortunately, apart from its past splendor, has a more recent and current story of power, murder and conceit running through its veins. Deeg runs through a part rocky, part sandy arterial narrow road, concealing much more behind those tin-roofed kiosks and shops.
Our last stop on this route is Bharatpur- famous and well identified on the tourist map for its Bird Sanctuary. But before we reached there we had a funny misfortune. Having not taken lunch en route, we were famished by late afternoon. An alluring signboard of a sort of resort beckoned us in its inviting bright brown colors. It was two kilometers from the highway, on a small dirt track, that ended up in a small mud village, with a kind of fort looming ominously over it. The entrance to the fort was through a steep climb; even the otherwise healthy Endeavor heaved through the gradient. The fort was indeed very ominous, made of solid stone, and a huge iron gate. It looked a bit too run down to be a inhabited, thought the signboard had clearly proclaimed it to be a resort. On inspection, and our call, a dour waiter produced itself. Lunch milega, we asked expectantly. His incredulous reply was, sorry; no…you do not have a booking for lunch. With our jaws dropped, we stared at him in dumb incredulity. Booking? For Lunch? Amazing, no!
A peep into the fort confirmed our worst fears…we had pushed our luck a bit too far. The place was in ruins; I doubt any one ever came there. The setting was perfect for a shoot of a horror film.
And now on to Bharatpur…Due to the presence of the sanctuary several hotels have sprung up around it to cater to the tourist who would like to stay there overnight (Otherwise, most prefer to make it a day trip, since its 180 kms from Jaipur and only 58 kms from Agra). As in all such tourist destinations, these hotels come in all sizes and shapes and with exotic names like Bird’s Inn, Crane Crib and Peacock Hotel, etc (obviously keeping in mind the sanctuary).
During our search for a suitable place to spend the night there, we stumble upon the most unbelievable, the most unusual and the most pathetic sights of all times- at least none of us could believe our eyes, and none of us had seen it before this day…on the road to Jaipur, just a few kilometers away from the sanctuary, there is actually an open-air brothel! A few meters are lined up with huts and shanties, on both sides, and girls stand on the roadside inviting customers. The girls are decked up in loud and vulgar dresses (a cheap red color being the most favorite), with heavy red lipstick, chalky powder on the face, and a sweet, alluring but false smile on their lips, waving and calling the passing cars. Worse, this seems to be their acknowledged way of living, for routine life goes on around them as usual- old men are sitting on the cots, sleeping (drunk?) and elderly women are chatting or making dinner, or filling water, or removing lice from another’s hair; in short, remove the girls standing there, it is just another a mini-slum that one can even see in the cities now on small roadsides or alleys. It is open prostitution with a stamp of approval from their immediate society. I pity the plight of the girls born in this society (some do not look any older than thirteen years), sucked into this obscene trade for no fault of theirs, and also getting a sanction for doing so by what seemed to be their own family and relatives. If this is real India, then it certainly is not shining. I believe these girls sell their flesh for as low as five hundred rupees.
As we cross the place, my eye catches hold of an obviously more elderly lady sitting on a cot, but also in that same bright red make up. Age and men have already done their rampage on her. Yet, she invites, with her saree pallu dropped down in a futile attempt to look more sexy…but its her eyes that tell all: desperation (to get a client), hope (to get some money) and prayer (to sleep with a tummy full) all rolled together and pasted on her frustratingly facile façade. Our eyes meet, and she makes one last attempt, before I move forward in the car; I have turn back in my seat to see her; her eyes have drooped in sadness…was that a sigh that escaped her horrifyingly red lips?
(We stayed the night in Bharatpur; the next day we left for Jaipur, stopping midway at a few other villages and towns like Dausa, Sikandara- famous for its fine handiwork on soft stone- and Mahua. This journey was quite similar to the one described above, as the landscape did not change much. The Bharatpur-Jaipur highway is no better, and it was a bumpy ride again. On our way, also saw two Jackie Chan films on the VCD of the Endeavor: Thunderbolt and Spanish Connection. While the former was a bit too much of action for me to digest, the latter was quite interesting and resembled those good old sixties movies of Bollywood- with just the right dose of action, and the requisite dash of comedy and romance. Apart from this, the driver was considerate enough to play some beautiful Lata Mangeshkar numbers).
I don’t know how far it is true, malady but I speak from my personal experience – separating a man from his moustaches is quite an impossible task. Hrishikesh Mukherjee built an entire comedy revolving around mouches – remember Golmaal? And Utpal Dutt’s indignant stand – munch nahin toh mard nahin! I sport one. But unlike Utpal Dutt in the film, physician I do not twirl any morality into them; but yes, it seems without them I would be not complete.
Love for moustaches is not hereditary. Even if it is, then I am that perfect exception which always exists in every theory. My father does not sport one, neither did my grandfathers (both sides), none of my mamas, and not my chachas. Yet, as far as I recall I always wanted to have one. I am not sure where the influence came from.
Once the down was established, I never had the courage to remove it. Earlier my mother would often jokingly ask me to remove it, at least to see how I look clean-shaven. But the very thought would send a cold shiver down my spine. The only time I shaved it off was way back in college – that entire week I felt I was roaming naked. After that, I have never attempted. Plus, Lamhe released, and I viewed Anil Kapoor’s stiff upper lip in the first half, painfully aware at his obvious discomfort – while viewing the film, I patted my mouche lovingly – no baby, I am not murdering you ever! Few years later, King Uncle came. There was an entire parody based on Anu Aggarwal trying to get Jackie to trim off his weirdly shaped mouche. Even though I don’t have that horrendous shape, still I payed close attention to the song.
Just in case the girls are feeling left out, let me say it’s quite similar to having your long hair chopped off. I remember the pangs my sister went through when she went in for a new, short hair-style. That furthered my resolve – I wouldn’t subject myself to this mental agony!
Years passed, and off and on I did get the arrant urge off and on to do something drastic; but always controlled these wild thoughts. During these years, I would look with envy and awe at people who could regularly experiment with their face. My elder brother-in-law is one such person – he has tried everything: mustaches, clean-shaven, French beard, full beard – in short, the full works! My younger brother-in-law deserted his mouche, and never returned back to it. His reasoning – too much white hair peeping out there!
On my part I just saw them in mute admiration for their guts, secretly hoping some day I will be brave enough. The maximum I did was to trim off the thick eighties South Indian-film-hero-style bushy crop to a sophisticated slim one; sometimes using the scissor to such effect that it is barely visible. But never went full monty over my upper lip! Thankfully, white hairs (which are quite in abundance over the scalp) have not made their detrimental foray into my mouche!
Before coming to Nepal I had thought of doing so. It’s much easier if you go with a new look to a new place; at least, no one will walk up to you and peer into your face as if you are some exotic animal just escaped from the zoo! But, no – I couldn’t bring myself to it!
Today morning, while shaving, I had that animalistic strong urge again to wipe off the face clean. But as ever, in some innate defence mechanism, the heart beat shot up, the hand trembled, the mouth went dry and the razor looked menacingly but couldn’t complete its act. Before this primeval instinct betrayed me, hastily I moved away from the wash-basin.
But yes, someday I am going to do get over this fear. Also, these days clean-shaven look seems to be in-fashion. When I was growing up, it was the other way round. So, I guess I should be up-to-date with times. Will keep you and this blog posted the day I do ‘the act’!
[As of now, done nothing with the mouche- DJ, April ’06]
[re-posted with ecto]
Shifting back is a tedious process. While coming here things were easy. Initially, ed there were a series of India-visits and I got all the stuff I required slowly and steadily. Plus, over the months I purchased other useful items here. But going back, means packing them all up in one single go. Thankfully, since the decision was taken I had taken few stuff back last time. However, I realise now that the ‘few’ stuff was precisely that only – few! A large bulk remained, and I am at my wits ends getting them all packed or disposing them off.
Employing a packing agency is almost impossible at this short a notice. In any case, I don’t have that many things which would justify employing one. One more issue is that though the agitation has ceased, there is still a districts-wide blockade by Maoists, so I can never be sure when my goods will reach if I send them through road using a packing agent.
Worse, the nineteen-days agitation/curfews meant that I couldn’t move around to complete pending jobs. Some of them were crucial, and involved monetary refunds – mobile connection , internet connection, gas etc. It all opened up yesterday, and I am buried under an avalanche of things to complete. To add to the troubles, the lap-top will also go very shortly, and I am struggling to get personal files out from there, which include a mammoth 2 GB worth of songs, some of them rare Lata Mangeshkar numbers. Woefully, the CD drive has gone for a toss and I can’t store them on discs. I have to find ways of taking them out, and fast at that! Any good suggestion is most welcome!
If that wasn’t enough, then I suddenly got a call from my organisation to return two days earlier, which catapulted the entire process into a dizzying orbit of confusion.
Today’s horoscope in The Himalayan Times seems uncannily true:
A whirlwind surrounds you. You find that plans change. A new friend could appear on the scene. You could be delighted by what a simple call draws. Socialize, reach out for others. Tonight: Meet a friend!
I don’t know about the last part, since the day has yet to unfold completely. But the first two sentences are bang on. Hell, why didn’t I pay attention to these horoscopes earlier!
Anyways, I shall take leave now. For those visiting from previous Random Expressions, warm welcome; for new readers, welcome aboard! This is not a formal launch as yet. That I will do only when I am back in India.
By the time you read this, cheap I will be flying over mighty Himalayas to reach my homeland. Thanks to the facility on WordPress to change the date/time stamp, plague I have deliberately kept this post dated 28th April 2006 – the day I bade farewell to Nepal. I will not get time in the morning to post anything.
I am quite confused as to how to write this post. The past few days have been hectic, and I haven’t had time to assimilate my thoughts. I had planned to write a comprehensive post covering key aspects of my stay here, but I think that one will have to wait.Â
Right now, emotions are strong, and I will allow myself to immerse in them.
For me, leaving a country/city/home is not new. I have been doing it since I was eleven month’s old, courtesy my father’s transferable job. Yet, everytime there is always a surge of feelings which refuse to be categorized - most are expected ones like sorrow (at leaving a place, a city, a house where time is spent), happiness (at going back to parents) and nervousness (involving packing), but some are uncharacteristic, of which I will mention one : regret! Regret that I could have done something more substantial here, something more concrete and useful! There is a uncanny thought running in my mind that I am leaving something incomplete here! Well, I will leave it at that because try as much as I want to I am unable to put the thoughts into word correctly here; maybe later when I have more time, I will try to unravel this one in detail!
It’s the reactions of the people I was associated with that has caught me by absolute surprise. All along, I had maintained a friendly but distanced and professional relationship with them. Suddenly, I have been inundated by overwhelmingly sweet mails/calls/gifts; and that has left an irrepressible lump in my throat.
Seeing this, somewhere, somehow I feel I have succeeded as a human being.
To end my stay here, like a sumptuous dessert after a fulfilling meal, I had the good chance of meeting a blogger. However, the meet details will have to be wait for now.
Right now, let me just say – Farewell Nepal , and I hope peace reigns here soon; Will miss you terribly, and yes be ready to welcome me if I come here again 🙂
By the time you read this, cheap I will be flying over mighty Himalayas to reach my homeland. Thanks to the facility on WordPress to change the date/time stamp, plague I have deliberately kept this post dated 28th April 2006 – the day I bade farewell to Nepal. I will not get time in the morning to post anything.
I am quite confused as to how to write this post. The past few days have been hectic, and I haven’t had time to assimilate my thoughts. I had planned to write a comprehensive post covering key aspects of my stay here, but I think that one will have to wait.Â
Right now, emotions are strong, and I will allow myself to immerse in them.
For me, leaving a country/city/home is not new. I have been doing it since I was eleven month’s old, courtesy my father’s transferable job. Yet, everytime there is always a surge of feelings which refuse to be categorized - most are expected ones like sorrow (at leaving a place, a city, a house where time is spent), happiness (at going back to parents) and nervousness (involving packing), but some are uncharacteristic, of which I will mention one : regret! Regret that I could have done something more substantial here, something more concrete and useful! There is a uncanny thought running in my mind that I am leaving something incomplete here! Well, I will leave it at that because try as much as I want to I am unable to put the thoughts into word correctly here; maybe later when I have more time, I will try to unravel this one in detail!
It’s the reactions of the people I was associated with that has caught me by absolute surprise. All along, I had maintained a friendly but distanced and professional relationship with them. Suddenly, I have been inundated by overwhelmingly sweet mails/calls/gifts; and that has left an irrepressible lump in my throat.
Seeing this, somewhere, somehow I feel I have succeeded as a human being.
To end my stay here, like a sumptuous dessert after a fulfilling meal, I had the good chance of meeting a blogger. However, the meet details will have to be wait for now.
Right now, let me just say – Farewell Nepal , and I hope peace reigns here soon; Will miss you terribly, and yes be ready to welcome me if I come here again 🙂
Suddenly it all went topsy-turvy.
Coming back home should have been easy, sick and comfortable. And that’s what I had thought too. Till the time I unpacked my bags here, and realized that nineteen months is quite a long time for new routines to settle in, which I weren’t aware of, or had missed during my brief two-three days visit every month. These changes, although subtle, can be quite irritating.
Also, I had myself got used to the carefree ways of living alone, so getting back into the routine groove took some time. To add to the woes, my laptop went away with the old job. Hence, I was technologically a bit crippled. Getting a new PC, and then an internet connection was a tedious process, made more tedious with the amount of options available, making me wonder whether it was better to live in a place where choices were limited?
Anyway, I shall skip the details here. As also, will skip the lament about Delhi’s awful temperatures! It’s an annual recurrence, and each year seems more ‘tough’ than the previous ones; I am pretty tired of hearing ‘par picchle saal itni garmi nahi thi…’ when the fact is every year has its own share of ‘hottest’ days. Amusingly, the same thing is said in winters with the season changed in the above sentence!
I am still struggling in getting ‘settled’, though with an internet connection now, I feel much at home!
With this post, I also formally launch the site, and will be now onwards regular in posting here! Keep reading!
I am not really a news freak; at the most, refractionist I view the various news channels (and there seem to be quite a lot of them!) with nothing more than a perfunctory interest, condom stopping at them just long enough to catch the headlines. Beyond this, epilepsy their utility seems suspect. At times, they look idiots pretending to be intellectuals.
This sudden deluge of news is unbalancing, especially since I have lived without TV for long.
Even the size of newspapers is shocking. In Kathmandu, leading English dailies like Himalayan Times were at the most 12-16 pages, while Kathmandu Post finished in 6 pages; no supplements, no add-ons! In Delhi, the newspapers seem to be more weight-lifting instruments than reading materials!
Electricity Shortage Coverage
Delhi’s electricity woes are quite legendary. Hence, I didn’t find it very odd that despite privatization the situation is only marginally better, but overall quite status quo as before. Hence, I found it very funny the way all channels went ad nauseum about the power shortage in the past few days. Funnier sights were the way they interviewed some citizens, and collected a small crowd together clucking their tongues and grumbling about the power situation. You had this fifty plus gentleman with a serious face cribbing about For all you know, that person would have literally grown up without electricity in his childhood; I am sure the situation is much better than that now! There was a young yuppy-ish father lamenting on loss of study time for children, while two precocious kids smiled gleefully into the camera, not really looking that concerned about missed studies! Another lady came on, more content that she was on camera, than making any serious point about power generation.
The entire sequence wore a grotesquely comic look, and gave a farcical effect –an attempt at making serious news out of nothing! Surprisingly, there was no soundbyte from the power company honchos or government powers-that-be, which could have somewhat added value to the show. Overall I fail to understand the purpose of creating such a program- there is power shortage, inform it and move on; what was the point of creating a masquerade that served no better purpose other than probably making those who came on-screen call up their friends and relatives to boast that ‘they came on TV’!
That was one instance. The other was obviously the detailed coverage of Pramod Mahajan. This was kind of given in today’s world. Celebrity sickness and death have become the nation’s entertainment. However, it all depends on the celebrity and the way he/she choses to die!
Â
Celebrity Deaths
Two celebrity deaths in a week’s span were shocking. But it’s the print media’s coverage of both that left me extremely cold (I will only mention print media here, as I skipped the television channels). While Pramod Mahajan got full front page space, music maestro Naushad’s demise was relegated to small column corners.
This only led me to think on two aspects – a) are we really a nation crazed and obsessed with politicians, politics and power, while finer things like arts/artistic talent are relegated to sidelines? b) Or, are we so given to sensationalism that a normal death hardly matters to anyone, even if the person involved is someone of Naushad’s stature!
Following is a letter I shot off to Hindustan Times (and published today; print edition):
Pramod Mahajan’s family has suffered a great deal but as a politician he didn’t do much for the average citizen. On the other hand, Naushad’s music has charmed millions down the ages and continues to entertain. If the media reports on the basis of a person’s influence on people is to be taken, then surely Naushad’s death should have been given at least half as much space as was devoted to politican Mahajan?
Particularly galling was the fact that responsible newspapers like Times of India got their facts completely wrong – Pakeezah was not Naushad’s score! To put it up as a choice on their daily vote was downright pathetic. Pakeezah’s major portion of music is by Ghulam Mohammad, and Naushad Saab only did the background score and one ‘tarana’ after Mohammad’s death.
More likely, the difference in the coverage by newspapers lies in the third option: it’s the “age of the present†– ‘chadte sooraj ko pranaam karna’ is a famous saying in Hindi. And Naushad Saab was definitely not at his prime when he died. In this jet-age where a two month old song becomes eligible to be featured in ‘bhooli bisre geet’ program, Naushad was a relic from a forgotten era. Many youngsters would not even know his name, though they might dance to a remix from his ouvre.
Perhaps, it’s time to think and stop a while that in our race to move ahead, in this mad rush to be on the top, we are forgetting a lot of our past – be it the freedom fighters, or the artistes, or more near us, our grandparents/elders! Wasn’t Rang De Basanti really trying to say this?
I will not condone the way actor Rajkumar’s fans went berserk, bringing the entire city to a complete halt. That was the other extreme.
I am sure there is a middle path that will honor the legend adequately, as well as keep the news diarrhea in check!
Last night Zee aired The Hero – Love Story of A Spy ; the film was a box office dud, heart but somehow I had enjoyed it at that time. Watching it again was equally interesting. This was the review I had written to send to Filmfare at that time.
With a song on his lips, viagra 100mg power in his biceps, viagra punch in his voice, here comes our dashing, daring and dynamic hero. He changes his appearance faster than a chameleon, crosses the LOC single-handedly to save his beloved, preaches about nuclear bombs, and wins the hearts of the masses with his charms.Â
With his penchant for Sunny Deol, Pakistan-bashing and climaxes in fast moving trains, Anil Sharma returns with his latest patriotic saga, titled, very aptly- The Hero. The sub-title (Love Story of A Spy) is a misnomer, but then, Gadar (Sharma’s previous big hit) had a ‘love story’ in its name, so we can assume it was added for superstitious benefits. Else, the love story in the film is even less loose than Pakistan’s reason for claiming Kashmir!!!
The story is about Arun Khanna, a RAW spy, who has only one mission in life: to expose ISI Chief Isaaq Khan (Amrish Puri) and his obnoxious plan of handing over nuclear bomb to the Kashmir jehadis. On one such mission to Kashmir, he falls in love with a pretty village belle (Priety Zinta) but loses her due to the evil designs of Khan saab and his coterie. Thereafter, he is back to his mission, exposes Isaaq Khan and finds his beloved back. The film is a potent and vital blend of James Bond’s chutzpah with a dollop of Mission Impossible-like brazenness, laced with just a tinge of emotional sheen of our very own Bollywood. And all this wrapped in a shimmering package of color and charisma.Â
Writer Shaktiman must be commended for penning a script that does not tire one bit- it’s a high-speed neck-breaking ride through the avalanches of Kashmir, to the battle in the jungles, to the scientific maze of a nuclear bomb factory to the ultimate orgasmic-like blowing up of the beautiful engagement-set climaxing with a thrilling, chilling climax in a stark red train against virgin white snow!! Honest, its breathtaking….jhoot bole jo use kaat khaaye bichhua.Â
Priety Zinta gives an honest and heartwarming performance as Reshma, the Kashmiri belle. Priyanka Chopra is wasted in a brief cameo, though she shows some bright sparks in her debut. Amrish Puri regurgitates his Gadar performance (anyway, in how many ways can he be a big bad Pakistani). And what to say of Rajat Bedi, the poor guy came to be a hero. In The Hero is relegated as the villain’s sidekick. Â
And finally, Sunny Deol- he is the Hero– definitive, decisive and dramatic. He proves that he is the men among all the heroes around- the role fits him like a hand in glove- no loose wrinkle anywhere, no open space left anywhere.Â
Uttam Singh’s music is adequate (in any case the songs are sensibly used as an aid to the background score) and the song “Dil mein hai pyaar teraâ€* has the making of a superhit number. The cinematography is bright and dazzling, the editing crisp and crackling, the dialogues pithy and sizzling.Â
Anil Sharma’s direction is full of élan. Though there are some obvious glitches (how can an ISI chief just go to America to catch hold of one man, that too without full precaution?) and some avoidable clichés (the muffler with the initial engraved getting lost and being found by the woe-be-gone heroine was more kitsch than cliché!!!!), still Sharma manages to hold the entire show together in one whole watch able yarn. Yes, The Hero is a mega carnival show- bright, luminous and large-than-life.
Watch it, enjoy it and forget it!!!!
*The song like the film didnt set the charts on fire; personally, I feel its a wonderful composition and deserved to be a hit!
Last night Zee aired The Hero – Love Story of A Spy ; the film was a box office dud, heart but somehow I had enjoyed it at that time. Watching it again was equally interesting. This was the review I had written to send to Filmfare at that time.
With a song on his lips, viagra 100mg power in his biceps, viagra punch in his voice, here comes our dashing, daring and dynamic hero. He changes his appearance faster than a chameleon, crosses the LOC single-handedly to save his beloved, preaches about nuclear bombs, and wins the hearts of the masses with his charms.Â
With his penchant for Sunny Deol, Pakistan-bashing and climaxes in fast moving trains, Anil Sharma returns with his latest patriotic saga, titled, very aptly- The Hero. The sub-title (Love Story of A Spy) is a misnomer, but then, Gadar (Sharma’s previous big hit) had a ‘love story’ in its name, so we can assume it was added for superstitious benefits. Else, the love story in the film is even less loose than Pakistan’s reason for claiming Kashmir!!!
The story is about Arun Khanna, a RAW spy, who has only one mission in life: to expose ISI Chief Isaaq Khan (Amrish Puri) and his obnoxious plan of handing over nuclear bomb to the Kashmir jehadis. On one such mission to Kashmir, he falls in love with a pretty village belle (Priety Zinta) but loses her due to the evil designs of Khan saab and his coterie. Thereafter, he is back to his mission, exposes Isaaq Khan and finds his beloved back. The film is a potent and vital blend of James Bond’s chutzpah with a dollop of Mission Impossible-like brazenness, laced with just a tinge of emotional sheen of our very own Bollywood. And all this wrapped in a shimmering package of color and charisma.Â
Writer Shaktiman must be commended for penning a script that does not tire one bit- it’s a high-speed neck-breaking ride through the avalanches of Kashmir, to the battle in the jungles, to the scientific maze of a nuclear bomb factory to the ultimate orgasmic-like blowing up of the beautiful engagement-set climaxing with a thrilling, chilling climax in a stark red train against virgin white snow!! Honest, its breathtaking….jhoot bole jo use kaat khaaye bichhua.Â
Priety Zinta gives an honest and heartwarming performance as Reshma, the Kashmiri belle. Priyanka Chopra is wasted in a brief cameo, though she shows some bright sparks in her debut. Amrish Puri regurgitates his Gadar performance (anyway, in how many ways can he be a big bad Pakistani). And what to say of Rajat Bedi, the poor guy came to be a hero. In The Hero is relegated as the villain’s sidekick. Â
And finally, Sunny Deol- he is the Hero– definitive, decisive and dramatic. He proves that he is the men among all the heroes around- the role fits him like a hand in glove- no loose wrinkle anywhere, no open space left anywhere.Â
Uttam Singh’s music is adequate (in any case the songs are sensibly used as an aid to the background score) and the song “Dil mein hai pyaar teraâ€* has the making of a superhit number. The cinematography is bright and dazzling, the editing crisp and crackling, the dialogues pithy and sizzling.Â
Anil Sharma’s direction is full of élan. Though there are some obvious glitches (how can an ISI chief just go to America to catch hold of one man, that too without full precaution?) and some avoidable clichés (the muffler with the initial engraved getting lost and being found by the woe-be-gone heroine was more kitsch than cliché!!!!), still Sharma manages to hold the entire show together in one whole watch able yarn. Yes, The Hero is a mega carnival show- bright, luminous and large-than-life.
Watch it, enjoy it and forget it!!!!
*The song like the film didnt set the charts on fire; personally, I feel its a wonderful composition and deserved to be a hit!
Film Review
I like Abbas Mustan, order
the film industry’s sole director duo. Generally they pick up a foreign idea, oncologist
indianize it, and garnish it with good music, add a dash of comedy and serve a slickly packaged dish. Khiladi, Baazigar, Chori Chori Chupke Chupke, Aitraz, Ajnabee, Badshah and Humraaz are some of their good movies. With their brother Hussain Burmawallah at the editing table, Abbas Mustan’s films always have a smooth narrative flow.Â
Having grown up on a staple of Agatha Christies, Hindi films’ murder mysteries always leave me unfulfilled. So in that respect 36 China Town had a tough standard to live upto. But if for a moment we leave Christie-comparison aside and view 36 China Town individually as a film, it is definitely entertaining, and all above mentioned standard Abbas-Mustan ingredients are present.Â
The story is simple – A rich casino owner Sonia (Isha Koppikar) is murdered on the day she was to receive her lost baby son. The suspects include – a playboy Rocky (Upen Patel), a compulsive gambler  Natwar (Paresh Rawal), his wife Gracy (Payal Rohatgi), another gambler couple (Johny Lever and Dilnaz), a struggling actor Raj (Shahid Kapur) and Priya (Kareena Kapoor) – the last two were bringing back the lost child. There are other peripheral characters which also add to the suspense – a drunkard (Raj Zutshie), a servant couple and a lawyer (Vivek Vaswani). The inspector (Akshaye Khanna) solves the case.Â
The film has a good pace after the initial half hour; the directors falter miserably in that section. They wanted to establish events happening simultaneously but at different cities; I am sure they could have found a better means to do so. Also, Upen Patel’s introductory footage is boring and unnecessary. Tanushree Dutta-Shahid’s ‘item’ song is a huge speed breaker especially since it comes minutes after the hit ‘Aa aa ashiqui’ song; two songs at such short interval in a thriller is a strict no-no. Wonder why they retained it in the final product? Another song that could have been given the axe is “24-7 I think of youâ€.
There are a few glitches. But the biggest of them all is that Sonia is shown to be this extremely rich heiress living in a gargantuan mansion – but how come there are no gatekeepers at all to guard the palace? And, it really takes more than suspension of disbelief to imagine that Isha’s dead body could fit into that tiny suitcase – though must say, the entire comedy track revolving that suitcase is hilarious!
Amongst the performers, Akshaye Khanna outshines them all; he appears after the interval, and with an author-backed role and a charismatic performance he sweeps away the film.Â
Shahid and Kareena provide colorful glamour and are ok. The supporting casts are all talented ones and they do not let the audience down. I am sure the ladies will love Upen Patel; for me he came across as a male version of ‘behenji turned mod’; I believe his voice has been dubbed; he should keep his mouth closed anyways! Acting wise he didn’t have to try too hard; the role was tailor made for him!Â
The music by current hit-machine Himesh Reshammiya is storming the charts – and admittedly “Aa aa ashiqui†is foot tapping, catchy and picturised wonderfully. Other good songs are “Rock your body†and “Mujhe tujhme badi dilchaspi haiâ€Â
Dialogues are witty, cinematography excellent and if one can forgive the initial portion, editing is first-rate.Â
In all, it’s an interesting Sunday time-pass movie which can be watched by leaving your brains, tension and worries outside the theater.Â
Overall: Worth a view!
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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I admit I am not too well versed in Kalpana Lajmi’s cinema, this web
and haven’t watched any of her films barring the refreshingly honest Ek Pal. My association with her is restricted to Lata Mangeshkar’s extremely eloquent ‘Dil Hoom Hoom Kare’ from Rudaali. Hence, sick
I approached Chingaari with an open mind, and to say it left me cold is a major understatement.
Chingaari is one of those B-and-C-grade films masquerading as an art film. It is a puerile and pathetic piece of cinema that has neither the content nor flow to captivate audiences. It seems Lajmi’s intention was to shock and sensationalise the audience without any care for aesthetics or form.
The story is set in a typical North Indian village, Rangpur which has a designated red light area called Lal Batti (how unimaginative!). The gullible villagers are firmly held in tight clutches of the evil head-priest Bhuvan Panda (Mithun Chakraborty), who abuses his authority for own selfish motives. He keeps them involved in meaningless religious mumbo-jumbos instigating fear in their heart to retain his superiority over them. He uses illogical rites like making a naked virgin girl sit on his lap, while he places himself over a corpse, in order to exorcise the dead man’s evil spirit! Even though he berates prostitutes, resorting to physical and verbal abuse even if they so much as touch the Goddess’ idol inadvertently, still he has no qualms in spending the nights at their place – practicing wild, kinky and sadist sex!
One such prostitute is Basanti (Sushmita Sen), who lives with her daughter Titli, and ekes out her living in that deplorable condition.
In this murky environment enters the fresh, educated and young postman Chandan Mishra (Anuj Sawhney). Like any villager postman, he not only delivers letters, but reads them out and writes for them, and in a sense he becomes a confidante, friend and mentor to them. An unstated, muted and sublime love develops between Chadan and Basanti, cemented by his affection for the latter’s fatherless daughter! He also instigates revolt against Bhuvan Panda.
No doubt the love story between the postman and the prostitute (incidentally, the film’s original title as well) is good, and could have been a classy saga of romance, sacrifice and valor. Unfortunately, Lajmi seems to have seen too many Neha Dhupia flicks of late, hence it ends up being a loud, crass and disgusting melodrama.
The narrative moves in jerks and fits, and the screenplay is shoddy. There is no continuum in the movement, and several unwanted scenes are repetitive or too lengthy for comfort; the running time is also inordinately long; looks as if the editor just did not know his job. Sequences where the prostitutes are interacting are gross. Sushmita’s introduction scene where she instigates two colleagues fighting over a customer and urges them to use words like ‘randi’ and ‘chinaal’ is horrible.
The dialogues are crappy, peppered liberally with obscenities and profanities and are written only to evoke shock value. The climax is hilarious – Sushmita goes to the village temple with her hair flying wild, drums beating and picks up a trishul and kills Bhuvan Panda – it’s straight from those forgettable mid-eighties dacoit/revenge dramas that had infested Bollywood that time!
Production value is shoddy and camera work is tacky. The music (by Adesh Srivastava) is nothing to write home (or anywhere) about.
Sushmita Sen gives a relatively good performance, though she appears too urban to pass off as a rustic prostitute convincingly. Anuj Sawhney is adequate. But Mithun Chakraborty is too tired and haggard! Ila Arun, as the red light area’s head-madame, is ok.
The film does nothing to sensitize against the prostitute’s plight; nor does it help to lay spotlight on interior
India’s woeful condition. In the end, it’s not even good cinema. This chingaari fizzles out without lighting any fire. I hope Lajmi drops the ‘neice of Guru Dutt’ tag for the time being till she returns with a more meaningful and involving film!
Overall: Avoid
Side Notes
While on prostitutes, I read the following somewhere: during the shoot of Kalyug abroad, Deepal Shaw was mistaken for a whore by another one from the tribe there! Despite liking Shaw in that film, my overall impression of her is that – to put it very bluntly – she looks like a slut! Her music videos are largely responsible for giving that image. In the write-up that I read, Shaw narrated this incident with obvious glee. I don’t know about her, but if I were in her place, I would have taken serious offence and not publicize this fact and, more importantly, do some serious introspection!
Secondly, who is that goddamn singer who has screeched ‘Aa darr ke marr’ from Darna Zaroori Hai! It’s the most irritating, grating and awful voice I have heard in recent times. If the brief given to her was to sound sexy and scary at the same time, she has got it widely wrong! Why does Ram Gopal Verma waste money and time in recording songs which no one is going to buy? Stardust (April 2006) carries a piece on Verma’s deteriorating position in the industry. Though Stardust in itself is a gossip magazine, but still some facts are true and cannot be ignored – his films (except Sarkar) have all flopped, his proteges are deserting him and his financers are distancing themselves.
Hope Darna Zaroori Hai bails him out. I liked the first part (Darna Marna Hai) and am eagerly awaiting the release of the second one now!
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
This review was written the same day I saw the film, dermatologist
which was on 4th February. But seeing the overwhelmingly positive reactions for the film didn’t have heart to publish it. Till the time I told Anubha about its existence. She reprimanded me for not putting it up and reminded me that on my blog I had complete right to write whatever I felt. True, help
perhaps I have been playing to the gallery quite a lot, visit this
and taking ‘the popular’ tag a bit too seriously than warranted. Thanks Anubha for the reality check!
Blame it on the huge expectation – but fact is I found Rang De Basanti just about ok, a different film, but just about that. Somehow it couldn’t involve me into its narration. There were too many incoherent details which left me cold – some were minor quibbles regarding Delhi’s depiction: why the hell did Sonia (Soha Ali) take Sue via Red Fort if they were going to University from Delhi Airport? There is a much shorter and convenient route! And then, that was clearly not anywhere close to Delhi University for sure! It was India Habitat Center passed off as DU!
Even though Rakeysh Mehra struggles to deploy a conventional story telling format, he is unable to fully discard the now-standard jump-cuts and fast-track editing styles; at few crucial points these neo-modern techniques crop up horrifyingly. The post-interval lathi charge scene is one prime example. Instead of gripping the audience in a tight-fist and knocking a solid punch, he shows a collage alternating between slow-motion and hazy movements with a dull song in the background. The entire sequence’s steam, whose build-up begins with Ajay Rathod’s death, dissipates away like a pressure cooker rudely taken off the burner!
The transformation of youth doesn’t come around neatly. I kept thinking of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s Swades, and how he had handled Mohan Bhargav’s transition smoothly! Here, it is erratic and abrupt. Also, in Swades the awakening is not linked to personal tragedy, making it more sublime. Here it seems more like those eighties personal vendetta film wearing a neo-modern cloak!
The story is interesting – but the climax is very shoddy: it takes away the entire thrust of the film’s message. Here, I am not talking about the defence minister’s too-easy-to-be-true murder, which can be accorded to the director’s creative license. But it’s the death of all protagonists which I could not digest. Does the maker want to tell the youth that if they have to do something for the country they will necessarily be killed? And does it really make the nation rise in protest? Except for a few shots of some students talking to NDTV, which sounded like a storm in a teacup and extremely unconvincing, the film-maker remains stunningly silent on their action’s impact. To me, their sacrifice looked futile. Plus, where did the Commandos come from? And why?
Agreed that Rakeysh Mehra wanted to draw a parallel to Bhagat Singh et al, but shouldn’t the climax have moved away to show the difference of the eras and of the youth, then and now! I feel an intelligent comparison need not be hundred percent overlapping – though the rising could be compared but the end needed much brain which was definitely not put to use. A mature writer draws parallel, brings them to a crossroad, but from there takes it to a separate and higher denouement. And this is where the film fails, and the reason why it couldn’t touch me at all.
Another fact which irked me was Sue’s character – did Mehra really have to use a foreigner to awaken youth-conscience and youth conscious? Is this some surreptitious handshake with old British ideology that ‘it is always white man’s burden’ to take care of Indians? Sorry, Mehra – an upright Indian NGO worker could have made the point more clear and driven home the fact more scathingly – and if Mehra feels that such people don’t exist, sorry he needs to open his wider!
On the plus side – the film gives ample space to every character though it could have incorporated a bit on Soha Ali and Sharman Joshi’s background/home as well.
Performance-wise the film is a topper – Soha Ali is a huge revelation especially after her wooden acting in Dil Maange More. She slips into her character’s skin effortlessly. Sharman Joshi, Kunal Kapoor and Atul Kulkarni live their part with aplomb. Siddharth, who gets maximum footage amongst the supporting cast, is a delight to watch, especially his voice modulation was impeccable (not sure if he has done the dubbing himself!). Alice Patten, with her cute night-class Hindi, is sweet and understated. Madhavan shines in his guest appearance.
But the mother of all performances is given by veteran Waheeda Rahman in her brief but strong role as Ajay’s mother. In one scene, after her son’s death, she is shown walking towards the door – her back is towards the camera, yet her entire body language, the minor tremor, the slight limp as she walks shows a seasoned actor at work! It’s a one small shot, where she is not even facing the camera – yet, she literally walks away with all accolades!
There are some smaller but solid parts – Om Puri, Kirron Kher and Anupam Kher who do their bit fabulously.
AR Rahman’s music is good in parts, though his background score was lacking – the odd sound during Jallianwala Bagh sequence was probably meant to stir hearts, but it shook the ears more! Lata Mangeshkar’s Lukka Chhupi Bahut Hui brings a lump, and that entire sequence is very well handled (though a personal grouse will remain for editing a bulk of Lataji’s portion). Of the other songs, Mohe mohe tu rang de basanti, Paathshaala and Tu bin bataye are ok. In ‘Mohe mohe’ Mehra picks up a few leaves from Yash Chopra’s films and shows flowing mustard fields and pulsating Punjab in satiated sway – given a choice, I’d prefer the tranquil pace of ‘Aisa des hai mera’ from Veer Zaara!
I understand the film is doing very well, and I have only read praise for it – perhaps, I am getting old to enjoy these ‘youthful’ films, but once again I would leave by mentioning Swades – the patriotism, the inner journey presented in that film was far superior to RDB’s graffiti-like cocktail!
Overall: Above average
Also check out: Saba's brilliant review of the same film
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
The state of Rajasthan presents a delightful collage of vibrant colors. From the greens of Bharatpur to the pink of Jaipur to the ochre of the deserts, help
this state should be nominated as God’s own palette.
An opportunity to traverse a small slice of this rustic and splendid state presented to me yesterday. Traveling in the sturdy Ford Endeavor, we were three of us, who started the tour from Behror, a small, mid-way village between Delhi and Jaipur. From there on, we broke off civilization and the highway to course our way through ill-constructed and bumpy road towards Alwar, a town famous for its ‘maava’, a milk product.
The rains have finally opened their abundant baggage on the thirsty fields, which sway with fulsome pleasure in their dark greenery. The dotted road that cuts through the greens has not seen a proper renovation in years. Instead, the municipal corporation has fixed it in patches, resembling a beggar’s tattered dress, with black, fresh tar, sewn over the broken areas.
Like teenager’s acne, Alwar suddenly erupts out of the highway (or whatever that patchy road was). Resembling any other small town on important roots, this town also has a string of tyre, automotive spare parts and tractor shops. Shops line up like errant and ill-disciplined school children in an assembly hall, forming an irregular line. They are all small, with tin boards proclaiming their trade and shuttered. Some enterprising brand names have wormed their way in here, obviously, sensing the potential of C-class cities. We bump our way through the entire stretch of the town, passing through a couple of ‘important’ squares, and roundabouts. One such, turning to the left, leads us to the railway station, beyond which is a small outskirts village of Manduska, our object of visit here.
Manduska is much smaller than Alwar, not exactly a typical village, like Tatarpur, which we had crossed just before entering Alwar. Dusty roads, tiny shops, rickshaws, mud and people in penury greet us here.
In Rajasthan, history is there on your face, assertive and dominant. One just cannot ignore it, for the entire landscape is punctuated with forts and castles- some taken care of by the government (or the surviving generations of the royalty), others left to perish with their arcane tales buried between the solid rocks. One can only guess and imagine the purpose of a lone structure standing desolately overlooking the sprawling highway. The mountains few and far between (another of nature’s mysterious surprises of this land) are brown and dusty and dry and bear the burdens of age and barrenness. Again, they are not consistent, with their presence coming in spurts and fits. Brown, ochre and yellow are the most dominant colors of this bucolic terrain.
After Alwar, our journey brought us to many such villages, no need to list all of them- of these the most prominent was Deeg, which again has a fort, and an accompanying lake. Deeg, unfortunately, apart from its past splendor, has a more recent and current story of power, murder and conceit running through its veins. Deeg runs through a part rocky, part sandy arterial narrow road, concealing much more behind those tin-roofed kiosks and shops.
Our last stop on this route is Bharatpur- famous and well identified on the tourist map for its Bird Sanctuary. But before we reached there we had a funny misfortune. Having not taken lunch en route, we were famished by late afternoon. An alluring signboard of a sort of resort beckoned us in its inviting bright brown colors. It was two kilometers from the highway, on a small dirt track, that ended up in a small mud village, with a kind of fort looming ominously over it. The entrance to the fort was through a steep climb; even the otherwise healthy Endeavor heaved through the gradient. The fort was indeed very ominous, made of solid stone, and a huge iron gate. It looked a bit too run down to be a inhabited, thought the signboard had clearly proclaimed it to be a resort. On inspection, and our call, a dour waiter produced itself. Lunch milega, we asked expectantly. His incredulous reply was, sorry; no…you do not have a booking for lunch. With our jaws dropped, we stared at him in dumb incredulity. Booking? For Lunch? Amazing, no!
A peep into the fort confirmed our worst fears…we had pushed our luck a bit too far. The place was in ruins; I doubt any one ever came there. The setting was perfect for a shoot of a horror film.
And now on to Bharatpur…Due to the presence of the sanctuary several hotels have sprung up around it to cater to the tourist who would like to stay there overnight (Otherwise, most prefer to make it a day trip, since its 180 kms from Jaipur and only 58 kms from Agra). As in all such tourist destinations, these hotels come in all sizes and shapes and with exotic names like Bird’s Inn, Crane Crib and Peacock Hotel, etc (obviously keeping in mind the sanctuary).
During our search for a suitable place to spend the night there, we stumble upon the most unbelievable, the most unusual and the most pathetic sights of all times- at least none of us could believe our eyes, and none of us had seen it before this day…on the road to Jaipur, just a few kilometers away from the sanctuary, there is actually an open-air brothel! A few meters are lined up with huts and shanties, on both sides, and girls stand on the roadside inviting customers. The girls are decked up in loud and vulgar dresses (a cheap red color being the most favorite), with heavy red lipstick, chalky powder on the face, and a sweet, alluring but false smile on their lips, waving and calling the passing cars. Worse, this seems to be their acknowledged way of living, for routine life goes on around them as usual- old men are sitting on the cots, sleeping (drunk?) and elderly women are chatting or making dinner, or filling water, or removing lice from another’s hair; in short, remove the girls standing there, it is just another a mini-slum that one can even see in the cities now on small roadsides or alleys. It is open prostitution with a stamp of approval from their immediate society. I pity the plight of the girls born in this society (some do not look any older than thirteen years), sucked into this obscene trade for no fault of theirs, and also getting a sanction for doing so by what seemed to be their own family and relatives. If this is real India, then it certainly is not shining. I believe these girls sell their flesh for as low as five hundred rupees.
As we cross the place, my eye catches hold of an obviously more elderly lady sitting on a cot, but also in that same bright red make up. Age and men have already done their rampage on her. Yet, she invites, with her saree pallu dropped down in a futile attempt to look more sexy…but its her eyes that tell all: desperation (to get a client), hope (to get some money) and prayer (to sleep with a tummy full) all rolled together and pasted on her frustratingly facile façade. Our eyes meet, and she makes one last attempt, before I move forward in the car; I have turn back in my seat to see her; her eyes have drooped in sadness…was that a sigh that escaped her horrifyingly red lips?
(We stayed the night in Bharatpur; the next day we left for Jaipur, stopping midway at a few other villages and towns like Dausa, Sikandara- famous for its fine handiwork on soft stone- and Mahua. This journey was quite similar to the one described above, as the landscape did not change much. The Bharatpur-Jaipur highway is no better, and it was a bumpy ride again. On our way, also saw two Jackie Chan films on the VCD of the Endeavor: Thunderbolt and Spanish Connection. While the former was a bit too much of action for me to digest, the latter was quite interesting and resembled those good old sixties movies of Bollywood- with just the right dose of action, and the requisite dash of comedy and romance. Apart from this, the driver was considerate enough to play some beautiful Lata Mangeshkar numbers).
I don’t know how far it is true, malady but I speak from my personal experience – separating a man from his moustaches is quite an impossible task. Hrishikesh Mukherjee built an entire comedy revolving around mouches – remember Golmaal? And Utpal Dutt’s indignant stand – munch nahin toh mard nahin! I sport one. But unlike Utpal Dutt in the film, physician I do not twirl any morality into them; but yes, it seems without them I would be not complete.
Love for moustaches is not hereditary. Even if it is, then I am that perfect exception which always exists in every theory. My father does not sport one, neither did my grandfathers (both sides), none of my mamas, and not my chachas. Yet, as far as I recall I always wanted to have one. I am not sure where the influence came from.
Once the down was established, I never had the courage to remove it. Earlier my mother would often jokingly ask me to remove it, at least to see how I look clean-shaven. But the very thought would send a cold shiver down my spine. The only time I shaved it off was way back in college – that entire week I felt I was roaming naked. After that, I have never attempted. Plus, Lamhe released, and I viewed Anil Kapoor’s stiff upper lip in the first half, painfully aware at his obvious discomfort – while viewing the film, I patted my mouche lovingly – no baby, I am not murdering you ever! Few years later, King Uncle came. There was an entire parody based on Anu Aggarwal trying to get Jackie to trim off his weirdly shaped mouche. Even though I don’t have that horrendous shape, still I payed close attention to the song.
Just in case the girls are feeling left out, let me say it’s quite similar to having your long hair chopped off. I remember the pangs my sister went through when she went in for a new, short hair-style. That furthered my resolve – I wouldn’t subject myself to this mental agony!
Years passed, and off and on I did get the arrant urge off and on to do something drastic; but always controlled these wild thoughts. During these years, I would look with envy and awe at people who could regularly experiment with their face. My elder brother-in-law is one such person – he has tried everything: mustaches, clean-shaven, French beard, full beard – in short, the full works! My younger brother-in-law deserted his mouche, and never returned back to it. His reasoning – too much white hair peeping out there!
On my part I just saw them in mute admiration for their guts, secretly hoping some day I will be brave enough. The maximum I did was to trim off the thick eighties South Indian-film-hero-style bushy crop to a sophisticated slim one; sometimes using the scissor to such effect that it is barely visible. But never went full monty over my upper lip! Thankfully, white hairs (which are quite in abundance over the scalp) have not made their detrimental foray into my mouche!
Before coming to Nepal I had thought of doing so. It’s much easier if you go with a new look to a new place; at least, no one will walk up to you and peer into your face as if you are some exotic animal just escaped from the zoo! But, no – I couldn’t bring myself to it!
Today morning, while shaving, I had that animalistic strong urge again to wipe off the face clean. But as ever, in some innate defence mechanism, the heart beat shot up, the hand trembled, the mouth went dry and the razor looked menacingly but couldn’t complete its act. Before this primeval instinct betrayed me, hastily I moved away from the wash-basin.
But yes, someday I am going to do get over this fear. Also, these days clean-shaven look seems to be in-fashion. When I was growing up, it was the other way round. So, I guess I should be up-to-date with times. Will keep you and this blog posted the day I do ‘the act’!
[As of now, done nothing with the mouche- DJ, April ’06]
[re-posted with ecto]
Shifting back is a tedious process. While coming here things were easy. Initially, ed there were a series of India-visits and I got all the stuff I required slowly and steadily. Plus, over the months I purchased other useful items here. But going back, means packing them all up in one single go. Thankfully, since the decision was taken I had taken few stuff back last time. However, I realise now that the ‘few’ stuff was precisely that only – few! A large bulk remained, and I am at my wits ends getting them all packed or disposing them off.
Employing a packing agency is almost impossible at this short a notice. In any case, I don’t have that many things which would justify employing one. One more issue is that though the agitation has ceased, there is still a districts-wide blockade by Maoists, so I can never be sure when my goods will reach if I send them through road using a packing agent.
Worse, the nineteen-days agitation/curfews meant that I couldn’t move around to complete pending jobs. Some of them were crucial, and involved monetary refunds – mobile connection , internet connection, gas etc. It all opened up yesterday, and I am buried under an avalanche of things to complete. To add to the troubles, the lap-top will also go very shortly, and I am struggling to get personal files out from there, which include a mammoth 2 GB worth of songs, some of them rare Lata Mangeshkar numbers. Woefully, the CD drive has gone for a toss and I can’t store them on discs. I have to find ways of taking them out, and fast at that! Any good suggestion is most welcome!
If that wasn’t enough, then I suddenly got a call from my organisation to return two days earlier, which catapulted the entire process into a dizzying orbit of confusion.
Today’s horoscope in The Himalayan Times seems uncannily true:
A whirlwind surrounds you. You find that plans change. A new friend could appear on the scene. You could be delighted by what a simple call draws. Socialize, reach out for others. Tonight: Meet a friend!
I don’t know about the last part, since the day has yet to unfold completely. But the first two sentences are bang on. Hell, why didn’t I pay attention to these horoscopes earlier!
Anyways, I shall take leave now. For those visiting from previous Random Expressions, warm welcome; for new readers, welcome aboard! This is not a formal launch as yet. That I will do only when I am back in India.
By the time you read this, cheap I will be flying over mighty Himalayas to reach my homeland. Thanks to the facility on WordPress to change the date/time stamp, plague I have deliberately kept this post dated 28th April 2006 – the day I bade farewell to Nepal. I will not get time in the morning to post anything.
I am quite confused as to how to write this post. The past few days have been hectic, and I haven’t had time to assimilate my thoughts. I had planned to write a comprehensive post covering key aspects of my stay here, but I think that one will have to wait.Â
Right now, emotions are strong, and I will allow myself to immerse in them.
For me, leaving a country/city/home is not new. I have been doing it since I was eleven month’s old, courtesy my father’s transferable job. Yet, everytime there is always a surge of feelings which refuse to be categorized - most are expected ones like sorrow (at leaving a place, a city, a house where time is spent), happiness (at going back to parents) and nervousness (involving packing), but some are uncharacteristic, of which I will mention one : regret! Regret that I could have done something more substantial here, something more concrete and useful! There is a uncanny thought running in my mind that I am leaving something incomplete here! Well, I will leave it at that because try as much as I want to I am unable to put the thoughts into word correctly here; maybe later when I have more time, I will try to unravel this one in detail!
It’s the reactions of the people I was associated with that has caught me by absolute surprise. All along, I had maintained a friendly but distanced and professional relationship with them. Suddenly, I have been inundated by overwhelmingly sweet mails/calls/gifts; and that has left an irrepressible lump in my throat.
Seeing this, somewhere, somehow I feel I have succeeded as a human being.
To end my stay here, like a sumptuous dessert after a fulfilling meal, I had the good chance of meeting a blogger. However, the meet details will have to be wait for now.
Right now, let me just say – Farewell Nepal , and I hope peace reigns here soon; Will miss you terribly, and yes be ready to welcome me if I come here again 🙂
By the time you read this, cheap I will be flying over mighty Himalayas to reach my homeland. Thanks to the facility on WordPress to change the date/time stamp, plague I have deliberately kept this post dated 28th April 2006 – the day I bade farewell to Nepal. I will not get time in the morning to post anything.
I am quite confused as to how to write this post. The past few days have been hectic, and I haven’t had time to assimilate my thoughts. I had planned to write a comprehensive post covering key aspects of my stay here, but I think that one will have to wait.Â
Right now, emotions are strong, and I will allow myself to immerse in them.
For me, leaving a country/city/home is not new. I have been doing it since I was eleven month’s old, courtesy my father’s transferable job. Yet, everytime there is always a surge of feelings which refuse to be categorized - most are expected ones like sorrow (at leaving a place, a city, a house where time is spent), happiness (at going back to parents) and nervousness (involving packing), but some are uncharacteristic, of which I will mention one : regret! Regret that I could have done something more substantial here, something more concrete and useful! There is a uncanny thought running in my mind that I am leaving something incomplete here! Well, I will leave it at that because try as much as I want to I am unable to put the thoughts into word correctly here; maybe later when I have more time, I will try to unravel this one in detail!
It’s the reactions of the people I was associated with that has caught me by absolute surprise. All along, I had maintained a friendly but distanced and professional relationship with them. Suddenly, I have been inundated by overwhelmingly sweet mails/calls/gifts; and that has left an irrepressible lump in my throat.
Seeing this, somewhere, somehow I feel I have succeeded as a human being.
To end my stay here, like a sumptuous dessert after a fulfilling meal, I had the good chance of meeting a blogger. However, the meet details will have to be wait for now.
Right now, let me just say – Farewell Nepal , and I hope peace reigns here soon; Will miss you terribly, and yes be ready to welcome me if I come here again 🙂
Suddenly it all went topsy-turvy.
Coming back home should have been easy, sick and comfortable. And that’s what I had thought too. Till the time I unpacked my bags here, and realized that nineteen months is quite a long time for new routines to settle in, which I weren’t aware of, or had missed during my brief two-three days visit every month. These changes, although subtle, can be quite irritating.
Also, I had myself got used to the carefree ways of living alone, so getting back into the routine groove took some time. To add to the woes, my laptop went away with the old job. Hence, I was technologically a bit crippled. Getting a new PC, and then an internet connection was a tedious process, made more tedious with the amount of options available, making me wonder whether it was better to live in a place where choices were limited?
Anyway, I shall skip the details here. As also, will skip the lament about Delhi’s awful temperatures! It’s an annual recurrence, and each year seems more ‘tough’ than the previous ones; I am pretty tired of hearing ‘par picchle saal itni garmi nahi thi…’ when the fact is every year has its own share of ‘hottest’ days. Amusingly, the same thing is said in winters with the season changed in the above sentence!
I am still struggling in getting ‘settled’, though with an internet connection now, I feel much at home!
With this post, I also formally launch the site, and will be now onwards regular in posting here! Keep reading!
I am not really a news freak; at the most, refractionist I view the various news channels (and there seem to be quite a lot of them!) with nothing more than a perfunctory interest, condom stopping at them just long enough to catch the headlines. Beyond this, epilepsy their utility seems suspect. At times, they look idiots pretending to be intellectuals.
This sudden deluge of news is unbalancing, especially since I have lived without TV for long.
Even the size of newspapers is shocking. In Kathmandu, leading English dailies like Himalayan Times were at the most 12-16 pages, while Kathmandu Post finished in 6 pages; no supplements, no add-ons! In Delhi, the newspapers seem to be more weight-lifting instruments than reading materials!
Electricity Shortage Coverage
Delhi’s electricity woes are quite legendary. Hence, I didn’t find it very odd that despite privatization the situation is only marginally better, but overall quite status quo as before. Hence, I found it very funny the way all channels went ad nauseum about the power shortage in the past few days. Funnier sights were the way they interviewed some citizens, and collected a small crowd together clucking their tongues and grumbling about the power situation. You had this fifty plus gentleman with a serious face cribbing about For all you know, that person would have literally grown up without electricity in his childhood; I am sure the situation is much better than that now! There was a young yuppy-ish father lamenting on loss of study time for children, while two precocious kids smiled gleefully into the camera, not really looking that concerned about missed studies! Another lady came on, more content that she was on camera, than making any serious point about power generation.
The entire sequence wore a grotesquely comic look, and gave a farcical effect –an attempt at making serious news out of nothing! Surprisingly, there was no soundbyte from the power company honchos or government powers-that-be, which could have somewhat added value to the show. Overall I fail to understand the purpose of creating such a program- there is power shortage, inform it and move on; what was the point of creating a masquerade that served no better purpose other than probably making those who came on-screen call up their friends and relatives to boast that ‘they came on TV’!
That was one instance. The other was obviously the detailed coverage of Pramod Mahajan. This was kind of given in today’s world. Celebrity sickness and death have become the nation’s entertainment. However, it all depends on the celebrity and the way he/she choses to die!
Â
Celebrity Deaths
Two celebrity deaths in a week’s span were shocking. But it’s the print media’s coverage of both that left me extremely cold (I will only mention print media here, as I skipped the television channels). While Pramod Mahajan got full front page space, music maestro Naushad’s demise was relegated to small column corners.
This only led me to think on two aspects – a) are we really a nation crazed and obsessed with politicians, politics and power, while finer things like arts/artistic talent are relegated to sidelines? b) Or, are we so given to sensationalism that a normal death hardly matters to anyone, even if the person involved is someone of Naushad’s stature!
Following is a letter I shot off to Hindustan Times (and published today; print edition):
Pramod Mahajan’s family has suffered a great deal but as a politician he didn’t do much for the average citizen. On the other hand, Naushad’s music has charmed millions down the ages and continues to entertain. If the media reports on the basis of a person’s influence on people is to be taken, then surely Naushad’s death should have been given at least half as much space as was devoted to politican Mahajan?
Particularly galling was the fact that responsible newspapers like Times of India got their facts completely wrong – Pakeezah was not Naushad’s score! To put it up as a choice on their daily vote was downright pathetic. Pakeezah’s major portion of music is by Ghulam Mohammad, and Naushad Saab only did the background score and one ‘tarana’ after Mohammad’s death.
More likely, the difference in the coverage by newspapers lies in the third option: it’s the “age of the present†– ‘chadte sooraj ko pranaam karna’ is a famous saying in Hindi. And Naushad Saab was definitely not at his prime when he died. In this jet-age where a two month old song becomes eligible to be featured in ‘bhooli bisre geet’ program, Naushad was a relic from a forgotten era. Many youngsters would not even know his name, though they might dance to a remix from his ouvre.
Perhaps, it’s time to think and stop a while that in our race to move ahead, in this mad rush to be on the top, we are forgetting a lot of our past – be it the freedom fighters, or the artistes, or more near us, our grandparents/elders! Wasn’t Rang De Basanti really trying to say this?
I will not condone the way actor Rajkumar’s fans went berserk, bringing the entire city to a complete halt. That was the other extreme.
I am sure there is a middle path that will honor the legend adequately, as well as keep the news diarrhea in check!
Last night Zee aired The Hero – Love Story of A Spy ; the film was a box office dud, heart but somehow I had enjoyed it at that time. Watching it again was equally interesting. This was the review I had written to send to Filmfare at that time.
With a song on his lips, viagra 100mg power in his biceps, viagra punch in his voice, here comes our dashing, daring and dynamic hero. He changes his appearance faster than a chameleon, crosses the LOC single-handedly to save his beloved, preaches about nuclear bombs, and wins the hearts of the masses with his charms.Â
With his penchant for Sunny Deol, Pakistan-bashing and climaxes in fast moving trains, Anil Sharma returns with his latest patriotic saga, titled, very aptly- The Hero. The sub-title (Love Story of A Spy) is a misnomer, but then, Gadar (Sharma’s previous big hit) had a ‘love story’ in its name, so we can assume it was added for superstitious benefits. Else, the love story in the film is even less loose than Pakistan’s reason for claiming Kashmir!!!
The story is about Arun Khanna, a RAW spy, who has only one mission in life: to expose ISI Chief Isaaq Khan (Amrish Puri) and his obnoxious plan of handing over nuclear bomb to the Kashmir jehadis. On one such mission to Kashmir, he falls in love with a pretty village belle (Priety Zinta) but loses her due to the evil designs of Khan saab and his coterie. Thereafter, he is back to his mission, exposes Isaaq Khan and finds his beloved back. The film is a potent and vital blend of James Bond’s chutzpah with a dollop of Mission Impossible-like brazenness, laced with just a tinge of emotional sheen of our very own Bollywood. And all this wrapped in a shimmering package of color and charisma.Â
Writer Shaktiman must be commended for penning a script that does not tire one bit- it’s a high-speed neck-breaking ride through the avalanches of Kashmir, to the battle in the jungles, to the scientific maze of a nuclear bomb factory to the ultimate orgasmic-like blowing up of the beautiful engagement-set climaxing with a thrilling, chilling climax in a stark red train against virgin white snow!! Honest, its breathtaking….jhoot bole jo use kaat khaaye bichhua.Â
Priety Zinta gives an honest and heartwarming performance as Reshma, the Kashmiri belle. Priyanka Chopra is wasted in a brief cameo, though she shows some bright sparks in her debut. Amrish Puri regurgitates his Gadar performance (anyway, in how many ways can he be a big bad Pakistani). And what to say of Rajat Bedi, the poor guy came to be a hero. In The Hero is relegated as the villain’s sidekick. Â
And finally, Sunny Deol- he is the Hero– definitive, decisive and dramatic. He proves that he is the men among all the heroes around- the role fits him like a hand in glove- no loose wrinkle anywhere, no open space left anywhere.Â
Uttam Singh’s music is adequate (in any case the songs are sensibly used as an aid to the background score) and the song “Dil mein hai pyaar teraâ€* has the making of a superhit number. The cinematography is bright and dazzling, the editing crisp and crackling, the dialogues pithy and sizzling.Â
Anil Sharma’s direction is full of élan. Though there are some obvious glitches (how can an ISI chief just go to America to catch hold of one man, that too without full precaution?) and some avoidable clichés (the muffler with the initial engraved getting lost and being found by the woe-be-gone heroine was more kitsch than cliché!!!!), still Sharma manages to hold the entire show together in one whole watch able yarn. Yes, The Hero is a mega carnival show- bright, luminous and large-than-life.
Watch it, enjoy it and forget it!!!!
*The song like the film didnt set the charts on fire; personally, I feel its a wonderful composition and deserved to be a hit!
Last night Zee aired The Hero – Love Story of A Spy ; the film was a box office dud, heart but somehow I had enjoyed it at that time. Watching it again was equally interesting. This was the review I had written to send to Filmfare at that time.
With a song on his lips, viagra 100mg power in his biceps, viagra punch in his voice, here comes our dashing, daring and dynamic hero. He changes his appearance faster than a chameleon, crosses the LOC single-handedly to save his beloved, preaches about nuclear bombs, and wins the hearts of the masses with his charms.Â
With his penchant for Sunny Deol, Pakistan-bashing and climaxes in fast moving trains, Anil Sharma returns with his latest patriotic saga, titled, very aptly- The Hero. The sub-title (Love Story of A Spy) is a misnomer, but then, Gadar (Sharma’s previous big hit) had a ‘love story’ in its name, so we can assume it was added for superstitious benefits. Else, the love story in the film is even less loose than Pakistan’s reason for claiming Kashmir!!!
The story is about Arun Khanna, a RAW spy, who has only one mission in life: to expose ISI Chief Isaaq Khan (Amrish Puri) and his obnoxious plan of handing over nuclear bomb to the Kashmir jehadis. On one such mission to Kashmir, he falls in love with a pretty village belle (Priety Zinta) but loses her due to the evil designs of Khan saab and his coterie. Thereafter, he is back to his mission, exposes Isaaq Khan and finds his beloved back. The film is a potent and vital blend of James Bond’s chutzpah with a dollop of Mission Impossible-like brazenness, laced with just a tinge of emotional sheen of our very own Bollywood. And all this wrapped in a shimmering package of color and charisma.Â
Writer Shaktiman must be commended for penning a script that does not tire one bit- it’s a high-speed neck-breaking ride through the avalanches of Kashmir, to the battle in the jungles, to the scientific maze of a nuclear bomb factory to the ultimate orgasmic-like blowing up of the beautiful engagement-set climaxing with a thrilling, chilling climax in a stark red train against virgin white snow!! Honest, its breathtaking….jhoot bole jo use kaat khaaye bichhua.Â
Priety Zinta gives an honest and heartwarming performance as Reshma, the Kashmiri belle. Priyanka Chopra is wasted in a brief cameo, though she shows some bright sparks in her debut. Amrish Puri regurgitates his Gadar performance (anyway, in how many ways can he be a big bad Pakistani). And what to say of Rajat Bedi, the poor guy came to be a hero. In The Hero is relegated as the villain’s sidekick. Â
And finally, Sunny Deol- he is the Hero– definitive, decisive and dramatic. He proves that he is the men among all the heroes around- the role fits him like a hand in glove- no loose wrinkle anywhere, no open space left anywhere.Â
Uttam Singh’s music is adequate (in any case the songs are sensibly used as an aid to the background score) and the song “Dil mein hai pyaar teraâ€* has the making of a superhit number. The cinematography is bright and dazzling, the editing crisp and crackling, the dialogues pithy and sizzling.Â
Anil Sharma’s direction is full of élan. Though there are some obvious glitches (how can an ISI chief just go to America to catch hold of one man, that too without full precaution?) and some avoidable clichés (the muffler with the initial engraved getting lost and being found by the woe-be-gone heroine was more kitsch than cliché!!!!), still Sharma manages to hold the entire show together in one whole watch able yarn. Yes, The Hero is a mega carnival show- bright, luminous and large-than-life.
Watch it, enjoy it and forget it!!!!
*The song like the film didnt set the charts on fire; personally, I feel its a wonderful composition and deserved to be a hit!
Film Review
I like Abbas Mustan, order
the film industry’s sole director duo. Generally they pick up a foreign idea, oncologist
indianize it, and garnish it with good music, add a dash of comedy and serve a slickly packaged dish. Khiladi, Baazigar, Chori Chori Chupke Chupke, Aitraz, Ajnabee, Badshah and Humraaz are some of their good movies. With their brother Hussain Burmawallah at the editing table, Abbas Mustan’s films always have a smooth narrative flow.Â
Having grown up on a staple of Agatha Christies, Hindi films’ murder mysteries always leave me unfulfilled. So in that respect 36 China Town had a tough standard to live upto. But if for a moment we leave Christie-comparison aside and view 36 China Town individually as a film, it is definitely entertaining, and all above mentioned standard Abbas-Mustan ingredients are present.Â
The story is simple – A rich casino owner Sonia (Isha Koppikar) is murdered on the day she was to receive her lost baby son. The suspects include – a playboy Rocky (Upen Patel), a compulsive gambler  Natwar (Paresh Rawal), his wife Gracy (Payal Rohatgi), another gambler couple (Johny Lever and Dilnaz), a struggling actor Raj (Shahid Kapur) and Priya (Kareena Kapoor) – the last two were bringing back the lost child. There are other peripheral characters which also add to the suspense – a drunkard (Raj Zutshie), a servant couple and a lawyer (Vivek Vaswani). The inspector (Akshaye Khanna) solves the case.Â
The film has a good pace after the initial half hour; the directors falter miserably in that section. They wanted to establish events happening simultaneously but at different cities; I am sure they could have found a better means to do so. Also, Upen Patel’s introductory footage is boring and unnecessary. Tanushree Dutta-Shahid’s ‘item’ song is a huge speed breaker especially since it comes minutes after the hit ‘Aa aa ashiqui’ song; two songs at such short interval in a thriller is a strict no-no. Wonder why they retained it in the final product? Another song that could have been given the axe is “24-7 I think of youâ€.
There are a few glitches. But the biggest of them all is that Sonia is shown to be this extremely rich heiress living in a gargantuan mansion – but how come there are no gatekeepers at all to guard the palace? And, it really takes more than suspension of disbelief to imagine that Isha’s dead body could fit into that tiny suitcase – though must say, the entire comedy track revolving that suitcase is hilarious!
Amongst the performers, Akshaye Khanna outshines them all; he appears after the interval, and with an author-backed role and a charismatic performance he sweeps away the film.Â
Shahid and Kareena provide colorful glamour and are ok. The supporting casts are all talented ones and they do not let the audience down. I am sure the ladies will love Upen Patel; for me he came across as a male version of ‘behenji turned mod’; I believe his voice has been dubbed; he should keep his mouth closed anyways! Acting wise he didn’t have to try too hard; the role was tailor made for him!Â
The music by current hit-machine Himesh Reshammiya is storming the charts – and admittedly “Aa aa ashiqui†is foot tapping, catchy and picturised wonderfully. Other good songs are “Rock your body†and “Mujhe tujhme badi dilchaspi haiâ€Â
Dialogues are witty, cinematography excellent and if one can forgive the initial portion, editing is first-rate.Â
In all, it’s an interesting Sunday time-pass movie which can be watched by leaving your brains, tension and worries outside the theater.Â
Overall: Worth a view!
On the basis of its win in Bengal, visit this the Left claims it will be ‘stronger’ and have more say in the matters of Central interest. Everyone seems to have taken this with muted acknowledgement, web as if it is a but-natural thing to happen.
I fail to understand the logic. How does a win in one (or two) states change equation at the Centre? How can a regional win mean that the party has achieved right to be a bully for the entire nation?
Can any one explain? I am completely lost!
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Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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I admit I am not too well versed in Kalpana Lajmi’s cinema, this web
and haven’t watched any of her films barring the refreshingly honest Ek Pal. My association with her is restricted to Lata Mangeshkar’s extremely eloquent ‘Dil Hoom Hoom Kare’ from Rudaali. Hence, sick
I approached Chingaari with an open mind, and to say it left me cold is a major understatement.
Chingaari is one of those B-and-C-grade films masquerading as an art film. It is a puerile and pathetic piece of cinema that has neither the content nor flow to captivate audiences. It seems Lajmi’s intention was to shock and sensationalise the audience without any care for aesthetics or form.
The story is set in a typical North Indian village, Rangpur which has a designated red light area called Lal Batti (how unimaginative!). The gullible villagers are firmly held in tight clutches of the evil head-priest Bhuvan Panda (Mithun Chakraborty), who abuses his authority for own selfish motives. He keeps them involved in meaningless religious mumbo-jumbos instigating fear in their heart to retain his superiority over them. He uses illogical rites like making a naked virgin girl sit on his lap, while he places himself over a corpse, in order to exorcise the dead man’s evil spirit! Even though he berates prostitutes, resorting to physical and verbal abuse even if they so much as touch the Goddess’ idol inadvertently, still he has no qualms in spending the nights at their place – practicing wild, kinky and sadist sex!
One such prostitute is Basanti (Sushmita Sen), who lives with her daughter Titli, and ekes out her living in that deplorable condition.
In this murky environment enters the fresh, educated and young postman Chandan Mishra (Anuj Sawhney). Like any villager postman, he not only delivers letters, but reads them out and writes for them, and in a sense he becomes a confidante, friend and mentor to them. An unstated, muted and sublime love develops between Chadan and Basanti, cemented by his affection for the latter’s fatherless daughter! He also instigates revolt against Bhuvan Panda.
No doubt the love story between the postman and the prostitute (incidentally, the film’s original title as well) is good, and could have been a classy saga of romance, sacrifice and valor. Unfortunately, Lajmi seems to have seen too many Neha Dhupia flicks of late, hence it ends up being a loud, crass and disgusting melodrama.
The narrative moves in jerks and fits, and the screenplay is shoddy. There is no continuum in the movement, and several unwanted scenes are repetitive or too lengthy for comfort; the running time is also inordinately long; looks as if the editor just did not know his job. Sequences where the prostitutes are interacting are gross. Sushmita’s introduction scene where she instigates two colleagues fighting over a customer and urges them to use words like ‘randi’ and ‘chinaal’ is horrible.
The dialogues are crappy, peppered liberally with obscenities and profanities and are written only to evoke shock value. The climax is hilarious – Sushmita goes to the village temple with her hair flying wild, drums beating and picks up a trishul and kills Bhuvan Panda – it’s straight from those forgettable mid-eighties dacoit/revenge dramas that had infested Bollywood that time!
Production value is shoddy and camera work is tacky. The music (by Adesh Srivastava) is nothing to write home (or anywhere) about.
Sushmita Sen gives a relatively good performance, though she appears too urban to pass off as a rustic prostitute convincingly. Anuj Sawhney is adequate. But Mithun Chakraborty is too tired and haggard! Ila Arun, as the red light area’s head-madame, is ok.
The film does nothing to sensitize against the prostitute’s plight; nor does it help to lay spotlight on interior
India’s woeful condition. In the end, it’s not even good cinema. This chingaari fizzles out without lighting any fire. I hope Lajmi drops the ‘neice of Guru Dutt’ tag for the time being till she returns with a more meaningful and involving film!
Overall: Avoid
Side Notes
While on prostitutes, I read the following somewhere: during the shoot of Kalyug abroad, Deepal Shaw was mistaken for a whore by another one from the tribe there! Despite liking Shaw in that film, my overall impression of her is that – to put it very bluntly – she looks like a slut! Her music videos are largely responsible for giving that image. In the write-up that I read, Shaw narrated this incident with obvious glee. I don’t know about her, but if I were in her place, I would have taken serious offence and not publicize this fact and, more importantly, do some serious introspection!
Secondly, who is that goddamn singer who has screeched ‘Aa darr ke marr’ from Darna Zaroori Hai! It’s the most irritating, grating and awful voice I have heard in recent times. If the brief given to her was to sound sexy and scary at the same time, she has got it widely wrong! Why does Ram Gopal Verma waste money and time in recording songs which no one is going to buy? Stardust (April 2006) carries a piece on Verma’s deteriorating position in the industry. Though Stardust in itself is a gossip magazine, but still some facts are true and cannot be ignored – his films (except Sarkar) have all flopped, his proteges are deserting him and his financers are distancing themselves.
Hope Darna Zaroori Hai bails him out. I liked the first part (Darna Marna Hai) and am eagerly awaiting the release of the second one now!
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
This review was written the same day I saw the film, dermatologist
which was on 4th February. But seeing the overwhelmingly positive reactions for the film didn’t have heart to publish it. Till the time I told Anubha about its existence. She reprimanded me for not putting it up and reminded me that on my blog I had complete right to write whatever I felt. True, help
perhaps I have been playing to the gallery quite a lot, visit this
and taking ‘the popular’ tag a bit too seriously than warranted. Thanks Anubha for the reality check!
Blame it on the huge expectation – but fact is I found Rang De Basanti just about ok, a different film, but just about that. Somehow it couldn’t involve me into its narration. There were too many incoherent details which left me cold – some were minor quibbles regarding Delhi’s depiction: why the hell did Sonia (Soha Ali) take Sue via Red Fort if they were going to University from Delhi Airport? There is a much shorter and convenient route! And then, that was clearly not anywhere close to Delhi University for sure! It was India Habitat Center passed off as DU!
Even though Rakeysh Mehra struggles to deploy a conventional story telling format, he is unable to fully discard the now-standard jump-cuts and fast-track editing styles; at few crucial points these neo-modern techniques crop up horrifyingly. The post-interval lathi charge scene is one prime example. Instead of gripping the audience in a tight-fist and knocking a solid punch, he shows a collage alternating between slow-motion and hazy movements with a dull song in the background. The entire sequence’s steam, whose build-up begins with Ajay Rathod’s death, dissipates away like a pressure cooker rudely taken off the burner!
The transformation of youth doesn’t come around neatly. I kept thinking of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s Swades, and how he had handled Mohan Bhargav’s transition smoothly! Here, it is erratic and abrupt. Also, in Swades the awakening is not linked to personal tragedy, making it more sublime. Here it seems more like those eighties personal vendetta film wearing a neo-modern cloak!
The story is interesting – but the climax is very shoddy: it takes away the entire thrust of the film’s message. Here, I am not talking about the defence minister’s too-easy-to-be-true murder, which can be accorded to the director’s creative license. But it’s the death of all protagonists which I could not digest. Does the maker want to tell the youth that if they have to do something for the country they will necessarily be killed? And does it really make the nation rise in protest? Except for a few shots of some students talking to NDTV, which sounded like a storm in a teacup and extremely unconvincing, the film-maker remains stunningly silent on their action’s impact. To me, their sacrifice looked futile. Plus, where did the Commandos come from? And why?
Agreed that Rakeysh Mehra wanted to draw a parallel to Bhagat Singh et al, but shouldn’t the climax have moved away to show the difference of the eras and of the youth, then and now! I feel an intelligent comparison need not be hundred percent overlapping – though the rising could be compared but the end needed much brain which was definitely not put to use. A mature writer draws parallel, brings them to a crossroad, but from there takes it to a separate and higher denouement. And this is where the film fails, and the reason why it couldn’t touch me at all.
Another fact which irked me was Sue’s character – did Mehra really have to use a foreigner to awaken youth-conscience and youth conscious? Is this some surreptitious handshake with old British ideology that ‘it is always white man’s burden’ to take care of Indians? Sorry, Mehra – an upright Indian NGO worker could have made the point more clear and driven home the fact more scathingly – and if Mehra feels that such people don’t exist, sorry he needs to open his wider!
On the plus side – the film gives ample space to every character though it could have incorporated a bit on Soha Ali and Sharman Joshi’s background/home as well.
Performance-wise the film is a topper – Soha Ali is a huge revelation especially after her wooden acting in Dil Maange More. She slips into her character’s skin effortlessly. Sharman Joshi, Kunal Kapoor and Atul Kulkarni live their part with aplomb. Siddharth, who gets maximum footage amongst the supporting cast, is a delight to watch, especially his voice modulation was impeccable (not sure if he has done the dubbing himself!). Alice Patten, with her cute night-class Hindi, is sweet and understated. Madhavan shines in his guest appearance.
But the mother of all performances is given by veteran Waheeda Rahman in her brief but strong role as Ajay’s mother. In one scene, after her son’s death, she is shown walking towards the door – her back is towards the camera, yet her entire body language, the minor tremor, the slight limp as she walks shows a seasoned actor at work! It’s a one small shot, where she is not even facing the camera – yet, she literally walks away with all accolades!
There are some smaller but solid parts – Om Puri, Kirron Kher and Anupam Kher who do their bit fabulously.
AR Rahman’s music is good in parts, though his background score was lacking – the odd sound during Jallianwala Bagh sequence was probably meant to stir hearts, but it shook the ears more! Lata Mangeshkar’s Lukka Chhupi Bahut Hui brings a lump, and that entire sequence is very well handled (though a personal grouse will remain for editing a bulk of Lataji’s portion). Of the other songs, Mohe mohe tu rang de basanti, Paathshaala and Tu bin bataye are ok. In ‘Mohe mohe’ Mehra picks up a few leaves from Yash Chopra’s films and shows flowing mustard fields and pulsating Punjab in satiated sway – given a choice, I’d prefer the tranquil pace of ‘Aisa des hai mera’ from Veer Zaara!
I understand the film is doing very well, and I have only read praise for it – perhaps, I am getting old to enjoy these ‘youthful’ films, but once again I would leave by mentioning Swades – the patriotism, the inner journey presented in that film was far superior to RDB’s graffiti-like cocktail!
Overall: Above average
Also check out: Saba's brilliant review of the same film
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
The state of Rajasthan presents a delightful collage of vibrant colors. From the greens of Bharatpur to the pink of Jaipur to the ochre of the deserts, help
this state should be nominated as God’s own palette.
An opportunity to traverse a small slice of this rustic and splendid state presented to me yesterday. Traveling in the sturdy Ford Endeavor, we were three of us, who started the tour from Behror, a small, mid-way village between Delhi and Jaipur. From there on, we broke off civilization and the highway to course our way through ill-constructed and bumpy road towards Alwar, a town famous for its ‘maava’, a milk product.
The rains have finally opened their abundant baggage on the thirsty fields, which sway with fulsome pleasure in their dark greenery. The dotted road that cuts through the greens has not seen a proper renovation in years. Instead, the municipal corporation has fixed it in patches, resembling a beggar’s tattered dress, with black, fresh tar, sewn over the broken areas.
Like teenager’s acne, Alwar suddenly erupts out of the highway (or whatever that patchy road was). Resembling any other small town on important roots, this town also has a string of tyre, automotive spare parts and tractor shops. Shops line up like errant and ill-disciplined school children in an assembly hall, forming an irregular line. They are all small, with tin boards proclaiming their trade and shuttered. Some enterprising brand names have wormed their way in here, obviously, sensing the potential of C-class cities. We bump our way through the entire stretch of the town, passing through a couple of ‘important’ squares, and roundabouts. One such, turning to the left, leads us to the railway station, beyond which is a small outskirts village of Manduska, our object of visit here.
Manduska is much smaller than Alwar, not exactly a typical village, like Tatarpur, which we had crossed just before entering Alwar. Dusty roads, tiny shops, rickshaws, mud and people in penury greet us here.
In Rajasthan, history is there on your face, assertive and dominant. One just cannot ignore it, for the entire landscape is punctuated with forts and castles- some taken care of by the government (or the surviving generations of the royalty), others left to perish with their arcane tales buried between the solid rocks. One can only guess and imagine the purpose of a lone structure standing desolately overlooking the sprawling highway. The mountains few and far between (another of nature’s mysterious surprises of this land) are brown and dusty and dry and bear the burdens of age and barrenness. Again, they are not consistent, with their presence coming in spurts and fits. Brown, ochre and yellow are the most dominant colors of this bucolic terrain.
After Alwar, our journey brought us to many such villages, no need to list all of them- of these the most prominent was Deeg, which again has a fort, and an accompanying lake. Deeg, unfortunately, apart from its past splendor, has a more recent and current story of power, murder and conceit running through its veins. Deeg runs through a part rocky, part sandy arterial narrow road, concealing much more behind those tin-roofed kiosks and shops.
Our last stop on this route is Bharatpur- famous and well identified on the tourist map for its Bird Sanctuary. But before we reached there we had a funny misfortune. Having not taken lunch en route, we were famished by late afternoon. An alluring signboard of a sort of resort beckoned us in its inviting bright brown colors. It was two kilometers from the highway, on a small dirt track, that ended up in a small mud village, with a kind of fort looming ominously over it. The entrance to the fort was through a steep climb; even the otherwise healthy Endeavor heaved through the gradient. The fort was indeed very ominous, made of solid stone, and a huge iron gate. It looked a bit too run down to be a inhabited, thought the signboard had clearly proclaimed it to be a resort. On inspection, and our call, a dour waiter produced itself. Lunch milega, we asked expectantly. His incredulous reply was, sorry; no…you do not have a booking for lunch. With our jaws dropped, we stared at him in dumb incredulity. Booking? For Lunch? Amazing, no!
A peep into the fort confirmed our worst fears…we had pushed our luck a bit too far. The place was in ruins; I doubt any one ever came there. The setting was perfect for a shoot of a horror film.
And now on to Bharatpur…Due to the presence of the sanctuary several hotels have sprung up around it to cater to the tourist who would like to stay there overnight (Otherwise, most prefer to make it a day trip, since its 180 kms from Jaipur and only 58 kms from Agra). As in all such tourist destinations, these hotels come in all sizes and shapes and with exotic names like Bird’s Inn, Crane Crib and Peacock Hotel, etc (obviously keeping in mind the sanctuary).
During our search for a suitable place to spend the night there, we stumble upon the most unbelievable, the most unusual and the most pathetic sights of all times- at least none of us could believe our eyes, and none of us had seen it before this day…on the road to Jaipur, just a few kilometers away from the sanctuary, there is actually an open-air brothel! A few meters are lined up with huts and shanties, on both sides, and girls stand on the roadside inviting customers. The girls are decked up in loud and vulgar dresses (a cheap red color being the most favorite), with heavy red lipstick, chalky powder on the face, and a sweet, alluring but false smile on their lips, waving and calling the passing cars. Worse, this seems to be their acknowledged way of living, for routine life goes on around them as usual- old men are sitting on the cots, sleeping (drunk?) and elderly women are chatting or making dinner, or filling water, or removing lice from another’s hair; in short, remove the girls standing there, it is just another a mini-slum that one can even see in the cities now on small roadsides or alleys. It is open prostitution with a stamp of approval from their immediate society. I pity the plight of the girls born in this society (some do not look any older than thirteen years), sucked into this obscene trade for no fault of theirs, and also getting a sanction for doing so by what seemed to be their own family and relatives. If this is real India, then it certainly is not shining. I believe these girls sell their flesh for as low as five hundred rupees.
As we cross the place, my eye catches hold of an obviously more elderly lady sitting on a cot, but also in that same bright red make up. Age and men have already done their rampage on her. Yet, she invites, with her saree pallu dropped down in a futile attempt to look more sexy…but its her eyes that tell all: desperation (to get a client), hope (to get some money) and prayer (to sleep with a tummy full) all rolled together and pasted on her frustratingly facile façade. Our eyes meet, and she makes one last attempt, before I move forward in the car; I have turn back in my seat to see her; her eyes have drooped in sadness…was that a sigh that escaped her horrifyingly red lips?
(We stayed the night in Bharatpur; the next day we left for Jaipur, stopping midway at a few other villages and towns like Dausa, Sikandara- famous for its fine handiwork on soft stone- and Mahua. This journey was quite similar to the one described above, as the landscape did not change much. The Bharatpur-Jaipur highway is no better, and it was a bumpy ride again. On our way, also saw two Jackie Chan films on the VCD of the Endeavor: Thunderbolt and Spanish Connection. While the former was a bit too much of action for me to digest, the latter was quite interesting and resembled those good old sixties movies of Bollywood- with just the right dose of action, and the requisite dash of comedy and romance. Apart from this, the driver was considerate enough to play some beautiful Lata Mangeshkar numbers).
I don’t know how far it is true, malady but I speak from my personal experience – separating a man from his moustaches is quite an impossible task. Hrishikesh Mukherjee built an entire comedy revolving around mouches – remember Golmaal? And Utpal Dutt’s indignant stand – munch nahin toh mard nahin! I sport one. But unlike Utpal Dutt in the film, physician I do not twirl any morality into them; but yes, it seems without them I would be not complete.
Love for moustaches is not hereditary. Even if it is, then I am that perfect exception which always exists in every theory. My father does not sport one, neither did my grandfathers (both sides), none of my mamas, and not my chachas. Yet, as far as I recall I always wanted to have one. I am not sure where the influence came from.
Once the down was established, I never had the courage to remove it. Earlier my mother would often jokingly ask me to remove it, at least to see how I look clean-shaven. But the very thought would send a cold shiver down my spine. The only time I shaved it off was way back in college – that entire week I felt I was roaming naked. After that, I have never attempted. Plus, Lamhe released, and I viewed Anil Kapoor’s stiff upper lip in the first half, painfully aware at his obvious discomfort – while viewing the film, I patted my mouche lovingly – no baby, I am not murdering you ever! Few years later, King Uncle came. There was an entire parody based on Anu Aggarwal trying to get Jackie to trim off his weirdly shaped mouche. Even though I don’t have that horrendous shape, still I payed close attention to the song.
Just in case the girls are feeling left out, let me say it’s quite similar to having your long hair chopped off. I remember the pangs my sister went through when she went in for a new, short hair-style. That furthered my resolve – I wouldn’t subject myself to this mental agony!
Years passed, and off and on I did get the arrant urge off and on to do something drastic; but always controlled these wild thoughts. During these years, I would look with envy and awe at people who could regularly experiment with their face. My elder brother-in-law is one such person – he has tried everything: mustaches, clean-shaven, French beard, full beard – in short, the full works! My younger brother-in-law deserted his mouche, and never returned back to it. His reasoning – too much white hair peeping out there!
On my part I just saw them in mute admiration for their guts, secretly hoping some day I will be brave enough. The maximum I did was to trim off the thick eighties South Indian-film-hero-style bushy crop to a sophisticated slim one; sometimes using the scissor to such effect that it is barely visible. But never went full monty over my upper lip! Thankfully, white hairs (which are quite in abundance over the scalp) have not made their detrimental foray into my mouche!
Before coming to Nepal I had thought of doing so. It’s much easier if you go with a new look to a new place; at least, no one will walk up to you and peer into your face as if you are some exotic animal just escaped from the zoo! But, no – I couldn’t bring myself to it!
Today morning, while shaving, I had that animalistic strong urge again to wipe off the face clean. But as ever, in some innate defence mechanism, the heart beat shot up, the hand trembled, the mouth went dry and the razor looked menacingly but couldn’t complete its act. Before this primeval instinct betrayed me, hastily I moved away from the wash-basin.
But yes, someday I am going to do get over this fear. Also, these days clean-shaven look seems to be in-fashion. When I was growing up, it was the other way round. So, I guess I should be up-to-date with times. Will keep you and this blog posted the day I do ‘the act’!
[As of now, done nothing with the mouche- DJ, April ’06]
[re-posted with ecto]
Shifting back is a tedious process. While coming here things were easy. Initially, ed there were a series of India-visits and I got all the stuff I required slowly and steadily. Plus, over the months I purchased other useful items here. But going back, means packing them all up in one single go. Thankfully, since the decision was taken I had taken few stuff back last time. However, I realise now that the ‘few’ stuff was precisely that only – few! A large bulk remained, and I am at my wits ends getting them all packed or disposing them off.
Employing a packing agency is almost impossible at this short a notice. In any case, I don’t have that many things which would justify employing one. One more issue is that though the agitation has ceased, there is still a districts-wide blockade by Maoists, so I can never be sure when my goods will reach if I send them through road using a packing agent.
Worse, the nineteen-days agitation/curfews meant that I couldn’t move around to complete pending jobs. Some of them were crucial, and involved monetary refunds – mobile connection , internet connection, gas etc. It all opened up yesterday, and I am buried under an avalanche of things to complete. To add to the troubles, the lap-top will also go very shortly, and I am struggling to get personal files out from there, which include a mammoth 2 GB worth of songs, some of them rare Lata Mangeshkar numbers. Woefully, the CD drive has gone for a toss and I can’t store them on discs. I have to find ways of taking them out, and fast at that! Any good suggestion is most welcome!
If that wasn’t enough, then I suddenly got a call from my organisation to return two days earlier, which catapulted the entire process into a dizzying orbit of confusion.
Today’s horoscope in The Himalayan Times seems uncannily true:
A whirlwind surrounds you. You find that plans change. A new friend could appear on the scene. You could be delighted by what a simple call draws. Socialize, reach out for others. Tonight: Meet a friend!
I don’t know about the last part, since the day has yet to unfold completely. But the first two sentences are bang on. Hell, why didn’t I pay attention to these horoscopes earlier!
Anyways, I shall take leave now. For those visiting from previous Random Expressions, warm welcome; for new readers, welcome aboard! This is not a formal launch as yet. That I will do only when I am back in India.
By the time you read this, cheap I will be flying over mighty Himalayas to reach my homeland. Thanks to the facility on WordPress to change the date/time stamp, plague I have deliberately kept this post dated 28th April 2006 – the day I bade farewell to Nepal. I will not get time in the morning to post anything.
I am quite confused as to how to write this post. The past few days have been hectic, and I haven’t had time to assimilate my thoughts. I had planned to write a comprehensive post covering key aspects of my stay here, but I think that one will have to wait.Â
Right now, emotions are strong, and I will allow myself to immerse in them.
For me, leaving a country/city/home is not new. I have been doing it since I was eleven month’s old, courtesy my father’s transferable job. Yet, everytime there is always a surge of feelings which refuse to be categorized - most are expected ones like sorrow (at leaving a place, a city, a house where time is spent), happiness (at going back to parents) and nervousness (involving packing), but some are uncharacteristic, of which I will mention one : regret! Regret that I could have done something more substantial here, something more concrete and useful! There is a uncanny thought running in my mind that I am leaving something incomplete here! Well, I will leave it at that because try as much as I want to I am unable to put the thoughts into word correctly here; maybe later when I have more time, I will try to unravel this one in detail!
It’s the reactions of the people I was associated with that has caught me by absolute surprise. All along, I had maintained a friendly but distanced and professional relationship with them. Suddenly, I have been inundated by overwhelmingly sweet mails/calls/gifts; and that has left an irrepressible lump in my throat.
Seeing this, somewhere, somehow I feel I have succeeded as a human being.
To end my stay here, like a sumptuous dessert after a fulfilling meal, I had the good chance of meeting a blogger. However, the meet details will have to be wait for now.
Right now, let me just say – Farewell Nepal , and I hope peace reigns here soon; Will miss you terribly, and yes be ready to welcome me if I come here again 🙂
By the time you read this, cheap I will be flying over mighty Himalayas to reach my homeland. Thanks to the facility on WordPress to change the date/time stamp, plague I have deliberately kept this post dated 28th April 2006 – the day I bade farewell to Nepal. I will not get time in the morning to post anything.
I am quite confused as to how to write this post. The past few days have been hectic, and I haven’t had time to assimilate my thoughts. I had planned to write a comprehensive post covering key aspects of my stay here, but I think that one will have to wait.Â
Right now, emotions are strong, and I will allow myself to immerse in them.
For me, leaving a country/city/home is not new. I have been doing it since I was eleven month’s old, courtesy my father’s transferable job. Yet, everytime there is always a surge of feelings which refuse to be categorized - most are expected ones like sorrow (at leaving a place, a city, a house where time is spent), happiness (at going back to parents) and nervousness (involving packing), but some are uncharacteristic, of which I will mention one : regret! Regret that I could have done something more substantial here, something more concrete and useful! There is a uncanny thought running in my mind that I am leaving something incomplete here! Well, I will leave it at that because try as much as I want to I am unable to put the thoughts into word correctly here; maybe later when I have more time, I will try to unravel this one in detail!
It’s the reactions of the people I was associated with that has caught me by absolute surprise. All along, I had maintained a friendly but distanced and professional relationship with them. Suddenly, I have been inundated by overwhelmingly sweet mails/calls/gifts; and that has left an irrepressible lump in my throat.
Seeing this, somewhere, somehow I feel I have succeeded as a human being.
To end my stay here, like a sumptuous dessert after a fulfilling meal, I had the good chance of meeting a blogger. However, the meet details will have to be wait for now.
Right now, let me just say – Farewell Nepal , and I hope peace reigns here soon; Will miss you terribly, and yes be ready to welcome me if I come here again 🙂
Suddenly it all went topsy-turvy.
Coming back home should have been easy, sick and comfortable. And that’s what I had thought too. Till the time I unpacked my bags here, and realized that nineteen months is quite a long time for new routines to settle in, which I weren’t aware of, or had missed during my brief two-three days visit every month. These changes, although subtle, can be quite irritating.
Also, I had myself got used to the carefree ways of living alone, so getting back into the routine groove took some time. To add to the woes, my laptop went away with the old job. Hence, I was technologically a bit crippled. Getting a new PC, and then an internet connection was a tedious process, made more tedious with the amount of options available, making me wonder whether it was better to live in a place where choices were limited?
Anyway, I shall skip the details here. As also, will skip the lament about Delhi’s awful temperatures! It’s an annual recurrence, and each year seems more ‘tough’ than the previous ones; I am pretty tired of hearing ‘par picchle saal itni garmi nahi thi…’ when the fact is every year has its own share of ‘hottest’ days. Amusingly, the same thing is said in winters with the season changed in the above sentence!
I am still struggling in getting ‘settled’, though with an internet connection now, I feel much at home!
With this post, I also formally launch the site, and will be now onwards regular in posting here! Keep reading!
I am not really a news freak; at the most, refractionist I view the various news channels (and there seem to be quite a lot of them!) with nothing more than a perfunctory interest, condom stopping at them just long enough to catch the headlines. Beyond this, epilepsy their utility seems suspect. At times, they look idiots pretending to be intellectuals.
This sudden deluge of news is unbalancing, especially since I have lived without TV for long.
Even the size of newspapers is shocking. In Kathmandu, leading English dailies like Himalayan Times were at the most 12-16 pages, while Kathmandu Post finished in 6 pages; no supplements, no add-ons! In Delhi, the newspapers seem to be more weight-lifting instruments than reading materials!
Electricity Shortage Coverage
Delhi’s electricity woes are quite legendary. Hence, I didn’t find it very odd that despite privatization the situation is only marginally better, but overall quite status quo as before. Hence, I found it very funny the way all channels went ad nauseum about the power shortage in the past few days. Funnier sights were the way they interviewed some citizens, and collected a small crowd together clucking their tongues and grumbling about the power situation. You had this fifty plus gentleman with a serious face cribbing about For all you know, that person would have literally grown up without electricity in his childhood; I am sure the situation is much better than that now! There was a young yuppy-ish father lamenting on loss of study time for children, while two precocious kids smiled gleefully into the camera, not really looking that concerned about missed studies! Another lady came on, more content that she was on camera, than making any serious point about power generation.
The entire sequence wore a grotesquely comic look, and gave a farcical effect –an attempt at making serious news out of nothing! Surprisingly, there was no soundbyte from the power company honchos or government powers-that-be, which could have somewhat added value to the show. Overall I fail to understand the purpose of creating such a program- there is power shortage, inform it and move on; what was the point of creating a masquerade that served no better purpose other than probably making those who came on-screen call up their friends and relatives to boast that ‘they came on TV’!
That was one instance. The other was obviously the detailed coverage of Pramod Mahajan. This was kind of given in today’s world. Celebrity sickness and death have become the nation’s entertainment. However, it all depends on the celebrity and the way he/she choses to die!
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Celebrity Deaths
Two celebrity deaths in a week’s span were shocking. But it’s the print media’s coverage of both that left me extremely cold (I will only mention print media here, as I skipped the television channels). While Pramod Mahajan got full front page space, music maestro Naushad’s demise was relegated to small column corners.
This only led me to think on two aspects – a) are we really a nation crazed and obsessed with politicians, politics and power, while finer things like arts/artistic talent are relegated to sidelines? b) Or, are we so given to sensationalism that a normal death hardly matters to anyone, even if the person involved is someone of Naushad’s stature!
Following is a letter I shot off to Hindustan Times (and published today; print edition):
Pramod Mahajan’s family has suffered a great deal but as a politician he didn’t do much for the average citizen. On the other hand, Naushad’s music has charmed millions down the ages and continues to entertain. If the media reports on the basis of a person’s influence on people is to be taken, then surely Naushad’s death should have been given at least half as much space as was devoted to politican Mahajan?
Particularly galling was the fact that responsible newspapers like Times of India got their facts completely wrong – Pakeezah was not Naushad’s score! To put it up as a choice on their daily vote was downright pathetic. Pakeezah’s major portion of music is by Ghulam Mohammad, and Naushad Saab only did the background score and one ‘tarana’ after Mohammad’s death.
More likely, the difference in the coverage by newspapers lies in the third option: it’s the “age of the present†– ‘chadte sooraj ko pranaam karna’ is a famous saying in Hindi. And Naushad Saab was definitely not at his prime when he died. In this jet-age where a two month old song becomes eligible to be featured in ‘bhooli bisre geet’ program, Naushad was a relic from a forgotten era. Many youngsters would not even know his name, though they might dance to a remix from his ouvre.
Perhaps, it’s time to think and stop a while that in our race to move ahead, in this mad rush to be on the top, we are forgetting a lot of our past – be it the freedom fighters, or the artistes, or more near us, our grandparents/elders! Wasn’t Rang De Basanti really trying to say this?
I will not condone the way actor Rajkumar’s fans went berserk, bringing the entire city to a complete halt. That was the other extreme.
I am sure there is a middle path that will honor the legend adequately, as well as keep the news diarrhea in check!
Last night Zee aired The Hero – Love Story of A Spy ; the film was a box office dud, heart but somehow I had enjoyed it at that time. Watching it again was equally interesting. This was the review I had written to send to Filmfare at that time.
With a song on his lips, viagra 100mg power in his biceps, viagra punch in his voice, here comes our dashing, daring and dynamic hero. He changes his appearance faster than a chameleon, crosses the LOC single-handedly to save his beloved, preaches about nuclear bombs, and wins the hearts of the masses with his charms.Â
With his penchant for Sunny Deol, Pakistan-bashing and climaxes in fast moving trains, Anil Sharma returns with his latest patriotic saga, titled, very aptly- The Hero. The sub-title (Love Story of A Spy) is a misnomer, but then, Gadar (Sharma’s previous big hit) had a ‘love story’ in its name, so we can assume it was added for superstitious benefits. Else, the love story in the film is even less loose than Pakistan’s reason for claiming Kashmir!!!
The story is about Arun Khanna, a RAW spy, who has only one mission in life: to expose ISI Chief Isaaq Khan (Amrish Puri) and his obnoxious plan of handing over nuclear bomb to the Kashmir jehadis. On one such mission to Kashmir, he falls in love with a pretty village belle (Priety Zinta) but loses her due to the evil designs of Khan saab and his coterie. Thereafter, he is back to his mission, exposes Isaaq Khan and finds his beloved back. The film is a potent and vital blend of James Bond’s chutzpah with a dollop of Mission Impossible-like brazenness, laced with just a tinge of emotional sheen of our very own Bollywood. And all this wrapped in a shimmering package of color and charisma.Â
Writer Shaktiman must be commended for penning a script that does not tire one bit- it’s a high-speed neck-breaking ride through the avalanches of Kashmir, to the battle in the jungles, to the scientific maze of a nuclear bomb factory to the ultimate orgasmic-like blowing up of the beautiful engagement-set climaxing with a thrilling, chilling climax in a stark red train against virgin white snow!! Honest, its breathtaking….jhoot bole jo use kaat khaaye bichhua.Â
Priety Zinta gives an honest and heartwarming performance as Reshma, the Kashmiri belle. Priyanka Chopra is wasted in a brief cameo, though she shows some bright sparks in her debut. Amrish Puri regurgitates his Gadar performance (anyway, in how many ways can he be a big bad Pakistani). And what to say of Rajat Bedi, the poor guy came to be a hero. In The Hero is relegated as the villain’s sidekick. Â
And finally, Sunny Deol- he is the Hero– definitive, decisive and dramatic. He proves that he is the men among all the heroes around- the role fits him like a hand in glove- no loose wrinkle anywhere, no open space left anywhere.Â
Uttam Singh’s music is adequate (in any case the songs are sensibly used as an aid to the background score) and the song “Dil mein hai pyaar teraâ€* has the making of a superhit number. The cinematography is bright and dazzling, the editing crisp and crackling, the dialogues pithy and sizzling.Â
Anil Sharma’s direction is full of élan. Though there are some obvious glitches (how can an ISI chief just go to America to catch hold of one man, that too without full precaution?) and some avoidable clichés (the muffler with the initial engraved getting lost and being found by the woe-be-gone heroine was more kitsch than cliché!!!!), still Sharma manages to hold the entire show together in one whole watch able yarn. Yes, The Hero is a mega carnival show- bright, luminous and large-than-life.
Watch it, enjoy it and forget it!!!!
*The song like the film didnt set the charts on fire; personally, I feel its a wonderful composition and deserved to be a hit!
Last night Zee aired The Hero – Love Story of A Spy ; the film was a box office dud, heart but somehow I had enjoyed it at that time. Watching it again was equally interesting. This was the review I had written to send to Filmfare at that time.
With a song on his lips, viagra 100mg power in his biceps, viagra punch in his voice, here comes our dashing, daring and dynamic hero. He changes his appearance faster than a chameleon, crosses the LOC single-handedly to save his beloved, preaches about nuclear bombs, and wins the hearts of the masses with his charms.Â
With his penchant for Sunny Deol, Pakistan-bashing and climaxes in fast moving trains, Anil Sharma returns with his latest patriotic saga, titled, very aptly- The Hero. The sub-title (Love Story of A Spy) is a misnomer, but then, Gadar (Sharma’s previous big hit) had a ‘love story’ in its name, so we can assume it was added for superstitious benefits. Else, the love story in the film is even less loose than Pakistan’s reason for claiming Kashmir!!!
The story is about Arun Khanna, a RAW spy, who has only one mission in life: to expose ISI Chief Isaaq Khan (Amrish Puri) and his obnoxious plan of handing over nuclear bomb to the Kashmir jehadis. On one such mission to Kashmir, he falls in love with a pretty village belle (Priety Zinta) but loses her due to the evil designs of Khan saab and his coterie. Thereafter, he is back to his mission, exposes Isaaq Khan and finds his beloved back. The film is a potent and vital blend of James Bond’s chutzpah with a dollop of Mission Impossible-like brazenness, laced with just a tinge of emotional sheen of our very own Bollywood. And all this wrapped in a shimmering package of color and charisma.Â
Writer Shaktiman must be commended for penning a script that does not tire one bit- it’s a high-speed neck-breaking ride through the avalanches of Kashmir, to the battle in the jungles, to the scientific maze of a nuclear bomb factory to the ultimate orgasmic-like blowing up of the beautiful engagement-set climaxing with a thrilling, chilling climax in a stark red train against virgin white snow!! Honest, its breathtaking….jhoot bole jo use kaat khaaye bichhua.Â
Priety Zinta gives an honest and heartwarming performance as Reshma, the Kashmiri belle. Priyanka Chopra is wasted in a brief cameo, though she shows some bright sparks in her debut. Amrish Puri regurgitates his Gadar performance (anyway, in how many ways can he be a big bad Pakistani). And what to say of Rajat Bedi, the poor guy came to be a hero. In The Hero is relegated as the villain’s sidekick. Â
And finally, Sunny Deol- he is the Hero– definitive, decisive and dramatic. He proves that he is the men among all the heroes around- the role fits him like a hand in glove- no loose wrinkle anywhere, no open space left anywhere.Â
Uttam Singh’s music is adequate (in any case the songs are sensibly used as an aid to the background score) and the song “Dil mein hai pyaar teraâ€* has the making of a superhit number. The cinematography is bright and dazzling, the editing crisp and crackling, the dialogues pithy and sizzling.Â
Anil Sharma’s direction is full of élan. Though there are some obvious glitches (how can an ISI chief just go to America to catch hold of one man, that too without full precaution?) and some avoidable clichés (the muffler with the initial engraved getting lost and being found by the woe-be-gone heroine was more kitsch than cliché!!!!), still Sharma manages to hold the entire show together in one whole watch able yarn. Yes, The Hero is a mega carnival show- bright, luminous and large-than-life.
Watch it, enjoy it and forget it!!!!
*The song like the film didnt set the charts on fire; personally, I feel its a wonderful composition and deserved to be a hit!
Film Review
I like Abbas Mustan, order
the film industry’s sole director duo. Generally they pick up a foreign idea, oncologist
indianize it, and garnish it with good music, add a dash of comedy and serve a slickly packaged dish. Khiladi, Baazigar, Chori Chori Chupke Chupke, Aitraz, Ajnabee, Badshah and Humraaz are some of their good movies. With their brother Hussain Burmawallah at the editing table, Abbas Mustan’s films always have a smooth narrative flow.Â
Having grown up on a staple of Agatha Christies, Hindi films’ murder mysteries always leave me unfulfilled. So in that respect 36 China Town had a tough standard to live upto. But if for a moment we leave Christie-comparison aside and view 36 China Town individually as a film, it is definitely entertaining, and all above mentioned standard Abbas-Mustan ingredients are present.Â
The story is simple – A rich casino owner Sonia (Isha Koppikar) is murdered on the day she was to receive her lost baby son. The suspects include – a playboy Rocky (Upen Patel), a compulsive gambler  Natwar (Paresh Rawal), his wife Gracy (Payal Rohatgi), another gambler couple (Johny Lever and Dilnaz), a struggling actor Raj (Shahid Kapur) and Priya (Kareena Kapoor) – the last two were bringing back the lost child. There are other peripheral characters which also add to the suspense – a drunkard (Raj Zutshie), a servant couple and a lawyer (Vivek Vaswani). The inspector (Akshaye Khanna) solves the case.Â
The film has a good pace after the initial half hour; the directors falter miserably in that section. They wanted to establish events happening simultaneously but at different cities; I am sure they could have found a better means to do so. Also, Upen Patel’s introductory footage is boring and unnecessary. Tanushree Dutta-Shahid’s ‘item’ song is a huge speed breaker especially since it comes minutes after the hit ‘Aa aa ashiqui’ song; two songs at such short interval in a thriller is a strict no-no. Wonder why they retained it in the final product? Another song that could have been given the axe is “24-7 I think of youâ€.
There are a few glitches. But the biggest of them all is that Sonia is shown to be this extremely rich heiress living in a gargantuan mansion – but how come there are no gatekeepers at all to guard the palace? And, it really takes more than suspension of disbelief to imagine that Isha’s dead body could fit into that tiny suitcase – though must say, the entire comedy track revolving that suitcase is hilarious!
Amongst the performers, Akshaye Khanna outshines them all; he appears after the interval, and with an author-backed role and a charismatic performance he sweeps away the film.Â
Shahid and Kareena provide colorful glamour and are ok. The supporting casts are all talented ones and they do not let the audience down. I am sure the ladies will love Upen Patel; for me he came across as a male version of ‘behenji turned mod’; I believe his voice has been dubbed; he should keep his mouth closed anyways! Acting wise he didn’t have to try too hard; the role was tailor made for him!Â
The music by current hit-machine Himesh Reshammiya is storming the charts – and admittedly “Aa aa ashiqui†is foot tapping, catchy and picturised wonderfully. Other good songs are “Rock your body†and “Mujhe tujhme badi dilchaspi haiâ€Â
Dialogues are witty, cinematography excellent and if one can forgive the initial portion, editing is first-rate.Â
In all, it’s an interesting Sunday time-pass movie which can be watched by leaving your brains, tension and worries outside the theater.Â
Overall: Worth a view!
On the basis of its win in Bengal, visit this the Left claims it will be ‘stronger’ and have more say in the matters of Central interest. Everyone seems to have taken this with muted acknowledgement, web as if it is a but-natural thing to happen.
I fail to understand the logic. How does a win in one (or two) states change equation at the Centre? How can a regional win mean that the party has achieved right to be a bully for the entire nation?
Can any one explain? I am completely lost!
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Ministry of Information and Broadcasting has put a temporary halt on Da Vinci Code’s release. It’s a strange decision, buy and entirely unwarranted, diet though not very surprising. Of course, plague why it’s been done is no big surprise. Religion is huge in India – and any religion at that!Â
Earlier, Water was stalled – to the extent that Deepa Mehta had to shoot the film in Sri Lanka surreptitiously under the guise of making a different film. I have my own reservations against films like Water, especially when they come from film-makers not living in India and their target audiences are not Indians. But I never agreed with reasons forwarded by Hindu fundamentalist in their protest. For all that came across, Water was just another film depicting things existed; if they are hard to swallow, so be it – change those old malpractices if you can!
Â
Much before Water, Mehta had faced the same problem during the screening of Fire. Again, I had my own reservations against that film, much different from what VHP/Shiv Sena wanted us to believe. Fire was a lousy piece of cinema, soporific, slow paced and an insult to lesbians. Like its successor-in-theme corny flick Girlfriend, Fire gave no respectable breathing space to the lesbians’ cause, and was a pretty juvenile attempt at portraying a solemn issue. Just because it had ‘serious’ stars like Nandita Das and Shabana Azmi, it gathered reflected respectability; else, for me it’s a film that deserved to be trashed, and would have drowned unsung in the gutter of box office oblivion had not the Shiv Sainiks jumped to rescue it and flaunt its stinking carcass!Â
However, at the same time, I am not at all for the ‘freedom of expression’ bullshit forwarded. It sounds paradoxical, but my argument is that there shouldn’t be any direct assault to anyone’s religion. The Danish cartoons were in bad taste. Just as MF Hussain’s nude paintings of Hindu Goddessess. Let’s leave the Gods, Goddessess, Prophets and Messiahs aside; let’s not caricature them; doodle them; or, present them in twisted way. That is not ‘fiction’. That is a deliberate attempt at poking at someone’s idols.Â
But if there is a fictional account involving them, or some theory, or some untold story by all means go ahead, write it, paint it or make a film but keep the disclaimer ‘a work of fiction’ in bold. Tomorrow if there is a story involving some secret documents involving Lord Rama, I am sure it would make an interesting fictional thriller – as long as it doesn’t insult Lord Rama.
Which, I believe, The Da Vince Code, the book, doesn’t do to Christian God, so I doubt the film version will deviate too much away from its source.  To me, the book was a good time pass read; very well thought of, with an exciting pace and adrelanin-rushing narrative flow and an enthralling climax – but just at that; beyond this, I didn’t bother to think to hard. In fact, amongst Dan Brown’s ouvre, I rate Angels and Demons his best work.
Coming back to the original intention of writing this post, my worry is of different kind. Da Vince Code is only a movie version of a book that has been around for quite some time. Why this sudden obsession in banning it? Were the powers-that-be sleeping earlier when the book was selling like hot cakes in India? Wasn’t the religion threatened then?Â
Or, has it been taken for granted that book reading is such an obscure hobby amongst Indians that even those who bought it wouldn’t have really bothered to much to understand or go through it comprehensively, and most would have bought it just to show that they are ‘up to date’ with the latest best seller? Hence, this brouhaha over the film’s release.Â
If the matter of contention is only the punchline ‘come and know the truth’ used in the trailors, that is something that the makers need to look into. Surely, they can have it removed to ensure a smooth and trouble-free release. But I feel that is not exactly the real issue. Or again, on second thoughts, it might be – after all, in these days of limited attention span, any controversy is good marketing!Â
So, what’s your take on this issue? And no, for this you need not SMS at 3535, typing DVC followed by a space and your opinion, nor do you have to call at 1600-11-3535 (whose lines will be forever busy, yet there will thousand responses) ;-P – the comment box below is good enough!Â
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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I admit I am not too well versed in Kalpana Lajmi’s cinema, this web
and haven’t watched any of her films barring the refreshingly honest Ek Pal. My association with her is restricted to Lata Mangeshkar’s extremely eloquent ‘Dil Hoom Hoom Kare’ from Rudaali. Hence, sick
I approached Chingaari with an open mind, and to say it left me cold is a major understatement.
Chingaari is one of those B-and-C-grade films masquerading as an art film. It is a puerile and pathetic piece of cinema that has neither the content nor flow to captivate audiences. It seems Lajmi’s intention was to shock and sensationalise the audience without any care for aesthetics or form.
The story is set in a typical North Indian village, Rangpur which has a designated red light area called Lal Batti (how unimaginative!). The gullible villagers are firmly held in tight clutches of the evil head-priest Bhuvan Panda (Mithun Chakraborty), who abuses his authority for own selfish motives. He keeps them involved in meaningless religious mumbo-jumbos instigating fear in their heart to retain his superiority over them. He uses illogical rites like making a naked virgin girl sit on his lap, while he places himself over a corpse, in order to exorcise the dead man’s evil spirit! Even though he berates prostitutes, resorting to physical and verbal abuse even if they so much as touch the Goddess’ idol inadvertently, still he has no qualms in spending the nights at their place – practicing wild, kinky and sadist sex!
One such prostitute is Basanti (Sushmita Sen), who lives with her daughter Titli, and ekes out her living in that deplorable condition.
In this murky environment enters the fresh, educated and young postman Chandan Mishra (Anuj Sawhney). Like any villager postman, he not only delivers letters, but reads them out and writes for them, and in a sense he becomes a confidante, friend and mentor to them. An unstated, muted and sublime love develops between Chadan and Basanti, cemented by his affection for the latter’s fatherless daughter! He also instigates revolt against Bhuvan Panda.
No doubt the love story between the postman and the prostitute (incidentally, the film’s original title as well) is good, and could have been a classy saga of romance, sacrifice and valor. Unfortunately, Lajmi seems to have seen too many Neha Dhupia flicks of late, hence it ends up being a loud, crass and disgusting melodrama.
The narrative moves in jerks and fits, and the screenplay is shoddy. There is no continuum in the movement, and several unwanted scenes are repetitive or too lengthy for comfort; the running time is also inordinately long; looks as if the editor just did not know his job. Sequences where the prostitutes are interacting are gross. Sushmita’s introduction scene where she instigates two colleagues fighting over a customer and urges them to use words like ‘randi’ and ‘chinaal’ is horrible.
The dialogues are crappy, peppered liberally with obscenities and profanities and are written only to evoke shock value. The climax is hilarious – Sushmita goes to the village temple with her hair flying wild, drums beating and picks up a trishul and kills Bhuvan Panda – it’s straight from those forgettable mid-eighties dacoit/revenge dramas that had infested Bollywood that time!
Production value is shoddy and camera work is tacky. The music (by Adesh Srivastava) is nothing to write home (or anywhere) about.
Sushmita Sen gives a relatively good performance, though she appears too urban to pass off as a rustic prostitute convincingly. Anuj Sawhney is adequate. But Mithun Chakraborty is too tired and haggard! Ila Arun, as the red light area’s head-madame, is ok.
The film does nothing to sensitize against the prostitute’s plight; nor does it help to lay spotlight on interior
India’s woeful condition. In the end, it’s not even good cinema. This chingaari fizzles out without lighting any fire. I hope Lajmi drops the ‘neice of Guru Dutt’ tag for the time being till she returns with a more meaningful and involving film!
Overall: Avoid
Side Notes
While on prostitutes, I read the following somewhere: during the shoot of Kalyug abroad, Deepal Shaw was mistaken for a whore by another one from the tribe there! Despite liking Shaw in that film, my overall impression of her is that – to put it very bluntly – she looks like a slut! Her music videos are largely responsible for giving that image. In the write-up that I read, Shaw narrated this incident with obvious glee. I don’t know about her, but if I were in her place, I would have taken serious offence and not publicize this fact and, more importantly, do some serious introspection!
Secondly, who is that goddamn singer who has screeched ‘Aa darr ke marr’ from Darna Zaroori Hai! It’s the most irritating, grating and awful voice I have heard in recent times. If the brief given to her was to sound sexy and scary at the same time, she has got it widely wrong! Why does Ram Gopal Verma waste money and time in recording songs which no one is going to buy? Stardust (April 2006) carries a piece on Verma’s deteriorating position in the industry. Though Stardust in itself is a gossip magazine, but still some facts are true and cannot be ignored – his films (except Sarkar) have all flopped, his proteges are deserting him and his financers are distancing themselves.
Hope Darna Zaroori Hai bails him out. I liked the first part (Darna Marna Hai) and am eagerly awaiting the release of the second one now!
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
This review was written the same day I saw the film, dermatologist
which was on 4th February. But seeing the overwhelmingly positive reactions for the film didn’t have heart to publish it. Till the time I told Anubha about its existence. She reprimanded me for not putting it up and reminded me that on my blog I had complete right to write whatever I felt. True, help
perhaps I have been playing to the gallery quite a lot, visit this
and taking ‘the popular’ tag a bit too seriously than warranted. Thanks Anubha for the reality check!
Blame it on the huge expectation – but fact is I found Rang De Basanti just about ok, a different film, but just about that. Somehow it couldn’t involve me into its narration. There were too many incoherent details which left me cold – some were minor quibbles regarding Delhi’s depiction: why the hell did Sonia (Soha Ali) take Sue via Red Fort if they were going to University from Delhi Airport? There is a much shorter and convenient route! And then, that was clearly not anywhere close to Delhi University for sure! It was India Habitat Center passed off as DU!
Even though Rakeysh Mehra struggles to deploy a conventional story telling format, he is unable to fully discard the now-standard jump-cuts and fast-track editing styles; at few crucial points these neo-modern techniques crop up horrifyingly. The post-interval lathi charge scene is one prime example. Instead of gripping the audience in a tight-fist and knocking a solid punch, he shows a collage alternating between slow-motion and hazy movements with a dull song in the background. The entire sequence’s steam, whose build-up begins with Ajay Rathod’s death, dissipates away like a pressure cooker rudely taken off the burner!
The transformation of youth doesn’t come around neatly. I kept thinking of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s Swades, and how he had handled Mohan Bhargav’s transition smoothly! Here, it is erratic and abrupt. Also, in Swades the awakening is not linked to personal tragedy, making it more sublime. Here it seems more like those eighties personal vendetta film wearing a neo-modern cloak!
The story is interesting – but the climax is very shoddy: it takes away the entire thrust of the film’s message. Here, I am not talking about the defence minister’s too-easy-to-be-true murder, which can be accorded to the director’s creative license. But it’s the death of all protagonists which I could not digest. Does the maker want to tell the youth that if they have to do something for the country they will necessarily be killed? And does it really make the nation rise in protest? Except for a few shots of some students talking to NDTV, which sounded like a storm in a teacup and extremely unconvincing, the film-maker remains stunningly silent on their action’s impact. To me, their sacrifice looked futile. Plus, where did the Commandos come from? And why?
Agreed that Rakeysh Mehra wanted to draw a parallel to Bhagat Singh et al, but shouldn’t the climax have moved away to show the difference of the eras and of the youth, then and now! I feel an intelligent comparison need not be hundred percent overlapping – though the rising could be compared but the end needed much brain which was definitely not put to use. A mature writer draws parallel, brings them to a crossroad, but from there takes it to a separate and higher denouement. And this is where the film fails, and the reason why it couldn’t touch me at all.
Another fact which irked me was Sue’s character – did Mehra really have to use a foreigner to awaken youth-conscience and youth conscious? Is this some surreptitious handshake with old British ideology that ‘it is always white man’s burden’ to take care of Indians? Sorry, Mehra – an upright Indian NGO worker could have made the point more clear and driven home the fact more scathingly – and if Mehra feels that such people don’t exist, sorry he needs to open his wider!
On the plus side – the film gives ample space to every character though it could have incorporated a bit on Soha Ali and Sharman Joshi’s background/home as well.
Performance-wise the film is a topper – Soha Ali is a huge revelation especially after her wooden acting in Dil Maange More. She slips into her character’s skin effortlessly. Sharman Joshi, Kunal Kapoor and Atul Kulkarni live their part with aplomb. Siddharth, who gets maximum footage amongst the supporting cast, is a delight to watch, especially his voice modulation was impeccable (not sure if he has done the dubbing himself!). Alice Patten, with her cute night-class Hindi, is sweet and understated. Madhavan shines in his guest appearance.
But the mother of all performances is given by veteran Waheeda Rahman in her brief but strong role as Ajay’s mother. In one scene, after her son’s death, she is shown walking towards the door – her back is towards the camera, yet her entire body language, the minor tremor, the slight limp as she walks shows a seasoned actor at work! It’s a one small shot, where she is not even facing the camera – yet, she literally walks away with all accolades!
There are some smaller but solid parts – Om Puri, Kirron Kher and Anupam Kher who do their bit fabulously.
AR Rahman’s music is good in parts, though his background score was lacking – the odd sound during Jallianwala Bagh sequence was probably meant to stir hearts, but it shook the ears more! Lata Mangeshkar’s Lukka Chhupi Bahut Hui brings a lump, and that entire sequence is very well handled (though a personal grouse will remain for editing a bulk of Lataji’s portion). Of the other songs, Mohe mohe tu rang de basanti, Paathshaala and Tu bin bataye are ok. In ‘Mohe mohe’ Mehra picks up a few leaves from Yash Chopra’s films and shows flowing mustard fields and pulsating Punjab in satiated sway – given a choice, I’d prefer the tranquil pace of ‘Aisa des hai mera’ from Veer Zaara!
I understand the film is doing very well, and I have only read praise for it – perhaps, I am getting old to enjoy these ‘youthful’ films, but once again I would leave by mentioning Swades – the patriotism, the inner journey presented in that film was far superior to RDB’s graffiti-like cocktail!
Overall: Above average
Also check out: Saba's brilliant review of the same film
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
The state of Rajasthan presents a delightful collage of vibrant colors. From the greens of Bharatpur to the pink of Jaipur to the ochre of the deserts, help
this state should be nominated as God’s own palette.
An opportunity to traverse a small slice of this rustic and splendid state presented to me yesterday. Traveling in the sturdy Ford Endeavor, we were three of us, who started the tour from Behror, a small, mid-way village between Delhi and Jaipur. From there on, we broke off civilization and the highway to course our way through ill-constructed and bumpy road towards Alwar, a town famous for its ‘maava’, a milk product.
The rains have finally opened their abundant baggage on the thirsty fields, which sway with fulsome pleasure in their dark greenery. The dotted road that cuts through the greens has not seen a proper renovation in years. Instead, the municipal corporation has fixed it in patches, resembling a beggar’s tattered dress, with black, fresh tar, sewn over the broken areas.
Like teenager’s acne, Alwar suddenly erupts out of the highway (or whatever that patchy road was). Resembling any other small town on important roots, this town also has a string of tyre, automotive spare parts and tractor shops. Shops line up like errant and ill-disciplined school children in an assembly hall, forming an irregular line. They are all small, with tin boards proclaiming their trade and shuttered. Some enterprising brand names have wormed their way in here, obviously, sensing the potential of C-class cities. We bump our way through the entire stretch of the town, passing through a couple of ‘important’ squares, and roundabouts. One such, turning to the left, leads us to the railway station, beyond which is a small outskirts village of Manduska, our object of visit here.
Manduska is much smaller than Alwar, not exactly a typical village, like Tatarpur, which we had crossed just before entering Alwar. Dusty roads, tiny shops, rickshaws, mud and people in penury greet us here.
In Rajasthan, history is there on your face, assertive and dominant. One just cannot ignore it, for the entire landscape is punctuated with forts and castles- some taken care of by the government (or the surviving generations of the royalty), others left to perish with their arcane tales buried between the solid rocks. One can only guess and imagine the purpose of a lone structure standing desolately overlooking the sprawling highway. The mountains few and far between (another of nature’s mysterious surprises of this land) are brown and dusty and dry and bear the burdens of age and barrenness. Again, they are not consistent, with their presence coming in spurts and fits. Brown, ochre and yellow are the most dominant colors of this bucolic terrain.
After Alwar, our journey brought us to many such villages, no need to list all of them- of these the most prominent was Deeg, which again has a fort, and an accompanying lake. Deeg, unfortunately, apart from its past splendor, has a more recent and current story of power, murder and conceit running through its veins. Deeg runs through a part rocky, part sandy arterial narrow road, concealing much more behind those tin-roofed kiosks and shops.
Our last stop on this route is Bharatpur- famous and well identified on the tourist map for its Bird Sanctuary. But before we reached there we had a funny misfortune. Having not taken lunch en route, we were famished by late afternoon. An alluring signboard of a sort of resort beckoned us in its inviting bright brown colors. It was two kilometers from the highway, on a small dirt track, that ended up in a small mud village, with a kind of fort looming ominously over it. The entrance to the fort was through a steep climb; even the otherwise healthy Endeavor heaved through the gradient. The fort was indeed very ominous, made of solid stone, and a huge iron gate. It looked a bit too run down to be a inhabited, thought the signboard had clearly proclaimed it to be a resort. On inspection, and our call, a dour waiter produced itself. Lunch milega, we asked expectantly. His incredulous reply was, sorry; no…you do not have a booking for lunch. With our jaws dropped, we stared at him in dumb incredulity. Booking? For Lunch? Amazing, no!
A peep into the fort confirmed our worst fears…we had pushed our luck a bit too far. The place was in ruins; I doubt any one ever came there. The setting was perfect for a shoot of a horror film.
And now on to Bharatpur…Due to the presence of the sanctuary several hotels have sprung up around it to cater to the tourist who would like to stay there overnight (Otherwise, most prefer to make it a day trip, since its 180 kms from Jaipur and only 58 kms from Agra). As in all such tourist destinations, these hotels come in all sizes and shapes and with exotic names like Bird’s Inn, Crane Crib and Peacock Hotel, etc (obviously keeping in mind the sanctuary).
During our search for a suitable place to spend the night there, we stumble upon the most unbelievable, the most unusual and the most pathetic sights of all times- at least none of us could believe our eyes, and none of us had seen it before this day…on the road to Jaipur, just a few kilometers away from the sanctuary, there is actually an open-air brothel! A few meters are lined up with huts and shanties, on both sides, and girls stand on the roadside inviting customers. The girls are decked up in loud and vulgar dresses (a cheap red color being the most favorite), with heavy red lipstick, chalky powder on the face, and a sweet, alluring but false smile on their lips, waving and calling the passing cars. Worse, this seems to be their acknowledged way of living, for routine life goes on around them as usual- old men are sitting on the cots, sleeping (drunk?) and elderly women are chatting or making dinner, or filling water, or removing lice from another’s hair; in short, remove the girls standing there, it is just another a mini-slum that one can even see in the cities now on small roadsides or alleys. It is open prostitution with a stamp of approval from their immediate society. I pity the plight of the girls born in this society (some do not look any older than thirteen years), sucked into this obscene trade for no fault of theirs, and also getting a sanction for doing so by what seemed to be their own family and relatives. If this is real India, then it certainly is not shining. I believe these girls sell their flesh for as low as five hundred rupees.
As we cross the place, my eye catches hold of an obviously more elderly lady sitting on a cot, but also in that same bright red make up. Age and men have already done their rampage on her. Yet, she invites, with her saree pallu dropped down in a futile attempt to look more sexy…but its her eyes that tell all: desperation (to get a client), hope (to get some money) and prayer (to sleep with a tummy full) all rolled together and pasted on her frustratingly facile façade. Our eyes meet, and she makes one last attempt, before I move forward in the car; I have turn back in my seat to see her; her eyes have drooped in sadness…was that a sigh that escaped her horrifyingly red lips?
(We stayed the night in Bharatpur; the next day we left for Jaipur, stopping midway at a few other villages and towns like Dausa, Sikandara- famous for its fine handiwork on soft stone- and Mahua. This journey was quite similar to the one described above, as the landscape did not change much. The Bharatpur-Jaipur highway is no better, and it was a bumpy ride again. On our way, also saw two Jackie Chan films on the VCD of the Endeavor: Thunderbolt and Spanish Connection. While the former was a bit too much of action for me to digest, the latter was quite interesting and resembled those good old sixties movies of Bollywood- with just the right dose of action, and the requisite dash of comedy and romance. Apart from this, the driver was considerate enough to play some beautiful Lata Mangeshkar numbers).
I don’t know how far it is true, malady but I speak from my personal experience – separating a man from his moustaches is quite an impossible task. Hrishikesh Mukherjee built an entire comedy revolving around mouches – remember Golmaal? And Utpal Dutt’s indignant stand – munch nahin toh mard nahin! I sport one. But unlike Utpal Dutt in the film, physician I do not twirl any morality into them; but yes, it seems without them I would be not complete.
Love for moustaches is not hereditary. Even if it is, then I am that perfect exception which always exists in every theory. My father does not sport one, neither did my grandfathers (both sides), none of my mamas, and not my chachas. Yet, as far as I recall I always wanted to have one. I am not sure where the influence came from.
Once the down was established, I never had the courage to remove it. Earlier my mother would often jokingly ask me to remove it, at least to see how I look clean-shaven. But the very thought would send a cold shiver down my spine. The only time I shaved it off was way back in college – that entire week I felt I was roaming naked. After that, I have never attempted. Plus, Lamhe released, and I viewed Anil Kapoor’s stiff upper lip in the first half, painfully aware at his obvious discomfort – while viewing the film, I patted my mouche lovingly – no baby, I am not murdering you ever! Few years later, King Uncle came. There was an entire parody based on Anu Aggarwal trying to get Jackie to trim off his weirdly shaped mouche. Even though I don’t have that horrendous shape, still I payed close attention to the song.
Just in case the girls are feeling left out, let me say it’s quite similar to having your long hair chopped off. I remember the pangs my sister went through when she went in for a new, short hair-style. That furthered my resolve – I wouldn’t subject myself to this mental agony!
Years passed, and off and on I did get the arrant urge off and on to do something drastic; but always controlled these wild thoughts. During these years, I would look with envy and awe at people who could regularly experiment with their face. My elder brother-in-law is one such person – he has tried everything: mustaches, clean-shaven, French beard, full beard – in short, the full works! My younger brother-in-law deserted his mouche, and never returned back to it. His reasoning – too much white hair peeping out there!
On my part I just saw them in mute admiration for their guts, secretly hoping some day I will be brave enough. The maximum I did was to trim off the thick eighties South Indian-film-hero-style bushy crop to a sophisticated slim one; sometimes using the scissor to such effect that it is barely visible. But never went full monty over my upper lip! Thankfully, white hairs (which are quite in abundance over the scalp) have not made their detrimental foray into my mouche!
Before coming to Nepal I had thought of doing so. It’s much easier if you go with a new look to a new place; at least, no one will walk up to you and peer into your face as if you are some exotic animal just escaped from the zoo! But, no – I couldn’t bring myself to it!
Today morning, while shaving, I had that animalistic strong urge again to wipe off the face clean. But as ever, in some innate defence mechanism, the heart beat shot up, the hand trembled, the mouth went dry and the razor looked menacingly but couldn’t complete its act. Before this primeval instinct betrayed me, hastily I moved away from the wash-basin.
But yes, someday I am going to do get over this fear. Also, these days clean-shaven look seems to be in-fashion. When I was growing up, it was the other way round. So, I guess I should be up-to-date with times. Will keep you and this blog posted the day I do ‘the act’!
[As of now, done nothing with the mouche- DJ, April ’06]
[re-posted with ecto]
Shifting back is a tedious process. While coming here things were easy. Initially, ed there were a series of India-visits and I got all the stuff I required slowly and steadily. Plus, over the months I purchased other useful items here. But going back, means packing them all up in one single go. Thankfully, since the decision was taken I had taken few stuff back last time. However, I realise now that the ‘few’ stuff was precisely that only – few! A large bulk remained, and I am at my wits ends getting them all packed or disposing them off.
Employing a packing agency is almost impossible at this short a notice. In any case, I don’t have that many things which would justify employing one. One more issue is that though the agitation has ceased, there is still a districts-wide blockade by Maoists, so I can never be sure when my goods will reach if I send them through road using a packing agent.
Worse, the nineteen-days agitation/curfews meant that I couldn’t move around to complete pending jobs. Some of them were crucial, and involved monetary refunds – mobile connection , internet connection, gas etc. It all opened up yesterday, and I am buried under an avalanche of things to complete. To add to the troubles, the lap-top will also go very shortly, and I am struggling to get personal files out from there, which include a mammoth 2 GB worth of songs, some of them rare Lata Mangeshkar numbers. Woefully, the CD drive has gone for a toss and I can’t store them on discs. I have to find ways of taking them out, and fast at that! Any good suggestion is most welcome!
If that wasn’t enough, then I suddenly got a call from my organisation to return two days earlier, which catapulted the entire process into a dizzying orbit of confusion.
Today’s horoscope in The Himalayan Times seems uncannily true:
A whirlwind surrounds you. You find that plans change. A new friend could appear on the scene. You could be delighted by what a simple call draws. Socialize, reach out for others. Tonight: Meet a friend!
I don’t know about the last part, since the day has yet to unfold completely. But the first two sentences are bang on. Hell, why didn’t I pay attention to these horoscopes earlier!
Anyways, I shall take leave now. For those visiting from previous Random Expressions, warm welcome; for new readers, welcome aboard! This is not a formal launch as yet. That I will do only when I am back in India.
By the time you read this, cheap I will be flying over mighty Himalayas to reach my homeland. Thanks to the facility on WordPress to change the date/time stamp, plague I have deliberately kept this post dated 28th April 2006 – the day I bade farewell to Nepal. I will not get time in the morning to post anything.
I am quite confused as to how to write this post. The past few days have been hectic, and I haven’t had time to assimilate my thoughts. I had planned to write a comprehensive post covering key aspects of my stay here, but I think that one will have to wait.Â
Right now, emotions are strong, and I will allow myself to immerse in them.
For me, leaving a country/city/home is not new. I have been doing it since I was eleven month’s old, courtesy my father’s transferable job. Yet, everytime there is always a surge of feelings which refuse to be categorized - most are expected ones like sorrow (at leaving a place, a city, a house where time is spent), happiness (at going back to parents) and nervousness (involving packing), but some are uncharacteristic, of which I will mention one : regret! Regret that I could have done something more substantial here, something more concrete and useful! There is a uncanny thought running in my mind that I am leaving something incomplete here! Well, I will leave it at that because try as much as I want to I am unable to put the thoughts into word correctly here; maybe later when I have more time, I will try to unravel this one in detail!
It’s the reactions of the people I was associated with that has caught me by absolute surprise. All along, I had maintained a friendly but distanced and professional relationship with them. Suddenly, I have been inundated by overwhelmingly sweet mails/calls/gifts; and that has left an irrepressible lump in my throat.
Seeing this, somewhere, somehow I feel I have succeeded as a human being.
To end my stay here, like a sumptuous dessert after a fulfilling meal, I had the good chance of meeting a blogger. However, the meet details will have to be wait for now.
Right now, let me just say – Farewell Nepal , and I hope peace reigns here soon; Will miss you terribly, and yes be ready to welcome me if I come here again 🙂
By the time you read this, cheap I will be flying over mighty Himalayas to reach my homeland. Thanks to the facility on WordPress to change the date/time stamp, plague I have deliberately kept this post dated 28th April 2006 – the day I bade farewell to Nepal. I will not get time in the morning to post anything.
I am quite confused as to how to write this post. The past few days have been hectic, and I haven’t had time to assimilate my thoughts. I had planned to write a comprehensive post covering key aspects of my stay here, but I think that one will have to wait.Â
Right now, emotions are strong, and I will allow myself to immerse in them.
For me, leaving a country/city/home is not new. I have been doing it since I was eleven month’s old, courtesy my father’s transferable job. Yet, everytime there is always a surge of feelings which refuse to be categorized - most are expected ones like sorrow (at leaving a place, a city, a house where time is spent), happiness (at going back to parents) and nervousness (involving packing), but some are uncharacteristic, of which I will mention one : regret! Regret that I could have done something more substantial here, something more concrete and useful! There is a uncanny thought running in my mind that I am leaving something incomplete here! Well, I will leave it at that because try as much as I want to I am unable to put the thoughts into word correctly here; maybe later when I have more time, I will try to unravel this one in detail!
It’s the reactions of the people I was associated with that has caught me by absolute surprise. All along, I had maintained a friendly but distanced and professional relationship with them. Suddenly, I have been inundated by overwhelmingly sweet mails/calls/gifts; and that has left an irrepressible lump in my throat.
Seeing this, somewhere, somehow I feel I have succeeded as a human being.
To end my stay here, like a sumptuous dessert after a fulfilling meal, I had the good chance of meeting a blogger. However, the meet details will have to be wait for now.
Right now, let me just say – Farewell Nepal , and I hope peace reigns here soon; Will miss you terribly, and yes be ready to welcome me if I come here again 🙂
Suddenly it all went topsy-turvy.
Coming back home should have been easy, sick and comfortable. And that’s what I had thought too. Till the time I unpacked my bags here, and realized that nineteen months is quite a long time for new routines to settle in, which I weren’t aware of, or had missed during my brief two-three days visit every month. These changes, although subtle, can be quite irritating.
Also, I had myself got used to the carefree ways of living alone, so getting back into the routine groove took some time. To add to the woes, my laptop went away with the old job. Hence, I was technologically a bit crippled. Getting a new PC, and then an internet connection was a tedious process, made more tedious with the amount of options available, making me wonder whether it was better to live in a place where choices were limited?
Anyway, I shall skip the details here. As also, will skip the lament about Delhi’s awful temperatures! It’s an annual recurrence, and each year seems more ‘tough’ than the previous ones; I am pretty tired of hearing ‘par picchle saal itni garmi nahi thi…’ when the fact is every year has its own share of ‘hottest’ days. Amusingly, the same thing is said in winters with the season changed in the above sentence!
I am still struggling in getting ‘settled’, though with an internet connection now, I feel much at home!
With this post, I also formally launch the site, and will be now onwards regular in posting here! Keep reading!
I am not really a news freak; at the most, refractionist I view the various news channels (and there seem to be quite a lot of them!) with nothing more than a perfunctory interest, condom stopping at them just long enough to catch the headlines. Beyond this, epilepsy their utility seems suspect. At times, they look idiots pretending to be intellectuals.
This sudden deluge of news is unbalancing, especially since I have lived without TV for long.
Even the size of newspapers is shocking. In Kathmandu, leading English dailies like Himalayan Times were at the most 12-16 pages, while Kathmandu Post finished in 6 pages; no supplements, no add-ons! In Delhi, the newspapers seem to be more weight-lifting instruments than reading materials!
Electricity Shortage Coverage
Delhi’s electricity woes are quite legendary. Hence, I didn’t find it very odd that despite privatization the situation is only marginally better, but overall quite status quo as before. Hence, I found it very funny the way all channels went ad nauseum about the power shortage in the past few days. Funnier sights were the way they interviewed some citizens, and collected a small crowd together clucking their tongues and grumbling about the power situation. You had this fifty plus gentleman with a serious face cribbing about For all you know, that person would have literally grown up without electricity in his childhood; I am sure the situation is much better than that now! There was a young yuppy-ish father lamenting on loss of study time for children, while two precocious kids smiled gleefully into the camera, not really looking that concerned about missed studies! Another lady came on, more content that she was on camera, than making any serious point about power generation.
The entire sequence wore a grotesquely comic look, and gave a farcical effect –an attempt at making serious news out of nothing! Surprisingly, there was no soundbyte from the power company honchos or government powers-that-be, which could have somewhat added value to the show. Overall I fail to understand the purpose of creating such a program- there is power shortage, inform it and move on; what was the point of creating a masquerade that served no better purpose other than probably making those who came on-screen call up their friends and relatives to boast that ‘they came on TV’!
That was one instance. The other was obviously the detailed coverage of Pramod Mahajan. This was kind of given in today’s world. Celebrity sickness and death have become the nation’s entertainment. However, it all depends on the celebrity and the way he/she choses to die!
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Celebrity Deaths
Two celebrity deaths in a week’s span were shocking. But it’s the print media’s coverage of both that left me extremely cold (I will only mention print media here, as I skipped the television channels). While Pramod Mahajan got full front page space, music maestro Naushad’s demise was relegated to small column corners.
This only led me to think on two aspects – a) are we really a nation crazed and obsessed with politicians, politics and power, while finer things like arts/artistic talent are relegated to sidelines? b) Or, are we so given to sensationalism that a normal death hardly matters to anyone, even if the person involved is someone of Naushad’s stature!
Following is a letter I shot off to Hindustan Times (and published today; print edition):
Pramod Mahajan’s family has suffered a great deal but as a politician he didn’t do much for the average citizen. On the other hand, Naushad’s music has charmed millions down the ages and continues to entertain. If the media reports on the basis of a person’s influence on people is to be taken, then surely Naushad’s death should have been given at least half as much space as was devoted to politican Mahajan?
Particularly galling was the fact that responsible newspapers like Times of India got their facts completely wrong – Pakeezah was not Naushad’s score! To put it up as a choice on their daily vote was downright pathetic. Pakeezah’s major portion of music is by Ghulam Mohammad, and Naushad Saab only did the background score and one ‘tarana’ after Mohammad’s death.
More likely, the difference in the coverage by newspapers lies in the third option: it’s the “age of the present†– ‘chadte sooraj ko pranaam karna’ is a famous saying in Hindi. And Naushad Saab was definitely not at his prime when he died. In this jet-age where a two month old song becomes eligible to be featured in ‘bhooli bisre geet’ program, Naushad was a relic from a forgotten era. Many youngsters would not even know his name, though they might dance to a remix from his ouvre.
Perhaps, it’s time to think and stop a while that in our race to move ahead, in this mad rush to be on the top, we are forgetting a lot of our past – be it the freedom fighters, or the artistes, or more near us, our grandparents/elders! Wasn’t Rang De Basanti really trying to say this?
I will not condone the way actor Rajkumar’s fans went berserk, bringing the entire city to a complete halt. That was the other extreme.
I am sure there is a middle path that will honor the legend adequately, as well as keep the news diarrhea in check!
Last night Zee aired The Hero – Love Story of A Spy ; the film was a box office dud, heart but somehow I had enjoyed it at that time. Watching it again was equally interesting. This was the review I had written to send to Filmfare at that time.
With a song on his lips, viagra 100mg power in his biceps, viagra punch in his voice, here comes our dashing, daring and dynamic hero. He changes his appearance faster than a chameleon, crosses the LOC single-handedly to save his beloved, preaches about nuclear bombs, and wins the hearts of the masses with his charms.Â
With his penchant for Sunny Deol, Pakistan-bashing and climaxes in fast moving trains, Anil Sharma returns with his latest patriotic saga, titled, very aptly- The Hero. The sub-title (Love Story of A Spy) is a misnomer, but then, Gadar (Sharma’s previous big hit) had a ‘love story’ in its name, so we can assume it was added for superstitious benefits. Else, the love story in the film is even less loose than Pakistan’s reason for claiming Kashmir!!!
The story is about Arun Khanna, a RAW spy, who has only one mission in life: to expose ISI Chief Isaaq Khan (Amrish Puri) and his obnoxious plan of handing over nuclear bomb to the Kashmir jehadis. On one such mission to Kashmir, he falls in love with a pretty village belle (Priety Zinta) but loses her due to the evil designs of Khan saab and his coterie. Thereafter, he is back to his mission, exposes Isaaq Khan and finds his beloved back. The film is a potent and vital blend of James Bond’s chutzpah with a dollop of Mission Impossible-like brazenness, laced with just a tinge of emotional sheen of our very own Bollywood. And all this wrapped in a shimmering package of color and charisma.Â
Writer Shaktiman must be commended for penning a script that does not tire one bit- it’s a high-speed neck-breaking ride through the avalanches of Kashmir, to the battle in the jungles, to the scientific maze of a nuclear bomb factory to the ultimate orgasmic-like blowing up of the beautiful engagement-set climaxing with a thrilling, chilling climax in a stark red train against virgin white snow!! Honest, its breathtaking….jhoot bole jo use kaat khaaye bichhua.Â
Priety Zinta gives an honest and heartwarming performance as Reshma, the Kashmiri belle. Priyanka Chopra is wasted in a brief cameo, though she shows some bright sparks in her debut. Amrish Puri regurgitates his Gadar performance (anyway, in how many ways can he be a big bad Pakistani). And what to say of Rajat Bedi, the poor guy came to be a hero. In The Hero is relegated as the villain’s sidekick. Â
And finally, Sunny Deol- he is the Hero– definitive, decisive and dramatic. He proves that he is the men among all the heroes around- the role fits him like a hand in glove- no loose wrinkle anywhere, no open space left anywhere.Â
Uttam Singh’s music is adequate (in any case the songs are sensibly used as an aid to the background score) and the song “Dil mein hai pyaar teraâ€* has the making of a superhit number. The cinematography is bright and dazzling, the editing crisp and crackling, the dialogues pithy and sizzling.Â
Anil Sharma’s direction is full of élan. Though there are some obvious glitches (how can an ISI chief just go to America to catch hold of one man, that too without full precaution?) and some avoidable clichés (the muffler with the initial engraved getting lost and being found by the woe-be-gone heroine was more kitsch than cliché!!!!), still Sharma manages to hold the entire show together in one whole watch able yarn. Yes, The Hero is a mega carnival show- bright, luminous and large-than-life.
Watch it, enjoy it and forget it!!!!
*The song like the film didnt set the charts on fire; personally, I feel its a wonderful composition and deserved to be a hit!
Last night Zee aired The Hero – Love Story of A Spy ; the film was a box office dud, heart but somehow I had enjoyed it at that time. Watching it again was equally interesting. This was the review I had written to send to Filmfare at that time.
With a song on his lips, viagra 100mg power in his biceps, viagra punch in his voice, here comes our dashing, daring and dynamic hero. He changes his appearance faster than a chameleon, crosses the LOC single-handedly to save his beloved, preaches about nuclear bombs, and wins the hearts of the masses with his charms.Â
With his penchant for Sunny Deol, Pakistan-bashing and climaxes in fast moving trains, Anil Sharma returns with his latest patriotic saga, titled, very aptly- The Hero. The sub-title (Love Story of A Spy) is a misnomer, but then, Gadar (Sharma’s previous big hit) had a ‘love story’ in its name, so we can assume it was added for superstitious benefits. Else, the love story in the film is even less loose than Pakistan’s reason for claiming Kashmir!!!
The story is about Arun Khanna, a RAW spy, who has only one mission in life: to expose ISI Chief Isaaq Khan (Amrish Puri) and his obnoxious plan of handing over nuclear bomb to the Kashmir jehadis. On one such mission to Kashmir, he falls in love with a pretty village belle (Priety Zinta) but loses her due to the evil designs of Khan saab and his coterie. Thereafter, he is back to his mission, exposes Isaaq Khan and finds his beloved back. The film is a potent and vital blend of James Bond’s chutzpah with a dollop of Mission Impossible-like brazenness, laced with just a tinge of emotional sheen of our very own Bollywood. And all this wrapped in a shimmering package of color and charisma.Â
Writer Shaktiman must be commended for penning a script that does not tire one bit- it’s a high-speed neck-breaking ride through the avalanches of Kashmir, to the battle in the jungles, to the scientific maze of a nuclear bomb factory to the ultimate orgasmic-like blowing up of the beautiful engagement-set climaxing with a thrilling, chilling climax in a stark red train against virgin white snow!! Honest, its breathtaking….jhoot bole jo use kaat khaaye bichhua.Â
Priety Zinta gives an honest and heartwarming performance as Reshma, the Kashmiri belle. Priyanka Chopra is wasted in a brief cameo, though she shows some bright sparks in her debut. Amrish Puri regurgitates his Gadar performance (anyway, in how many ways can he be a big bad Pakistani). And what to say of Rajat Bedi, the poor guy came to be a hero. In The Hero is relegated as the villain’s sidekick. Â
And finally, Sunny Deol- he is the Hero– definitive, decisive and dramatic. He proves that he is the men among all the heroes around- the role fits him like a hand in glove- no loose wrinkle anywhere, no open space left anywhere.Â
Uttam Singh’s music is adequate (in any case the songs are sensibly used as an aid to the background score) and the song “Dil mein hai pyaar teraâ€* has the making of a superhit number. The cinematography is bright and dazzling, the editing crisp and crackling, the dialogues pithy and sizzling.Â
Anil Sharma’s direction is full of élan. Though there are some obvious glitches (how can an ISI chief just go to America to catch hold of one man, that too without full precaution?) and some avoidable clichés (the muffler with the initial engraved getting lost and being found by the woe-be-gone heroine was more kitsch than cliché!!!!), still Sharma manages to hold the entire show together in one whole watch able yarn. Yes, The Hero is a mega carnival show- bright, luminous and large-than-life.
Watch it, enjoy it and forget it!!!!
*The song like the film didnt set the charts on fire; personally, I feel its a wonderful composition and deserved to be a hit!
Film Review
I like Abbas Mustan, order
the film industry’s sole director duo. Generally they pick up a foreign idea, oncologist
indianize it, and garnish it with good music, add a dash of comedy and serve a slickly packaged dish. Khiladi, Baazigar, Chori Chori Chupke Chupke, Aitraz, Ajnabee, Badshah and Humraaz are some of their good movies. With their brother Hussain Burmawallah at the editing table, Abbas Mustan’s films always have a smooth narrative flow.Â
Having grown up on a staple of Agatha Christies, Hindi films’ murder mysteries always leave me unfulfilled. So in that respect 36 China Town had a tough standard to live upto. But if for a moment we leave Christie-comparison aside and view 36 China Town individually as a film, it is definitely entertaining, and all above mentioned standard Abbas-Mustan ingredients are present.Â
The story is simple – A rich casino owner Sonia (Isha Koppikar) is murdered on the day she was to receive her lost baby son. The suspects include – a playboy Rocky (Upen Patel), a compulsive gambler  Natwar (Paresh Rawal), his wife Gracy (Payal Rohatgi), another gambler couple (Johny Lever and Dilnaz), a struggling actor Raj (Shahid Kapur) and Priya (Kareena Kapoor) – the last two were bringing back the lost child. There are other peripheral characters which also add to the suspense – a drunkard (Raj Zutshie), a servant couple and a lawyer (Vivek Vaswani). The inspector (Akshaye Khanna) solves the case.Â
The film has a good pace after the initial half hour; the directors falter miserably in that section. They wanted to establish events happening simultaneously but at different cities; I am sure they could have found a better means to do so. Also, Upen Patel’s introductory footage is boring and unnecessary. Tanushree Dutta-Shahid’s ‘item’ song is a huge speed breaker especially since it comes minutes after the hit ‘Aa aa ashiqui’ song; two songs at such short interval in a thriller is a strict no-no. Wonder why they retained it in the final product? Another song that could have been given the axe is “24-7 I think of youâ€.
There are a few glitches. But the biggest of them all is that Sonia is shown to be this extremely rich heiress living in a gargantuan mansion – but how come there are no gatekeepers at all to guard the palace? And, it really takes more than suspension of disbelief to imagine that Isha’s dead body could fit into that tiny suitcase – though must say, the entire comedy track revolving that suitcase is hilarious!
Amongst the performers, Akshaye Khanna outshines them all; he appears after the interval, and with an author-backed role and a charismatic performance he sweeps away the film.Â
Shahid and Kareena provide colorful glamour and are ok. The supporting casts are all talented ones and they do not let the audience down. I am sure the ladies will love Upen Patel; for me he came across as a male version of ‘behenji turned mod’; I believe his voice has been dubbed; he should keep his mouth closed anyways! Acting wise he didn’t have to try too hard; the role was tailor made for him!Â
The music by current hit-machine Himesh Reshammiya is storming the charts – and admittedly “Aa aa ashiqui†is foot tapping, catchy and picturised wonderfully. Other good songs are “Rock your body†and “Mujhe tujhme badi dilchaspi haiâ€Â
Dialogues are witty, cinematography excellent and if one can forgive the initial portion, editing is first-rate.Â
In all, it’s an interesting Sunday time-pass movie which can be watched by leaving your brains, tension and worries outside the theater.Â
Overall: Worth a view!
On the basis of its win in Bengal, visit this the Left claims it will be ‘stronger’ and have more say in the matters of Central interest. Everyone seems to have taken this with muted acknowledgement, web as if it is a but-natural thing to happen.
I fail to understand the logic. How does a win in one (or two) states change equation at the Centre? How can a regional win mean that the party has achieved right to be a bully for the entire nation?
Can any one explain? I am completely lost!
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Ministry of Information and Broadcasting has put a temporary halt on Da Vinci Code’s release. It’s a strange decision, buy and entirely unwarranted, diet though not very surprising. Of course, plague why it’s been done is no big surprise. Religion is huge in India – and any religion at that!Â
Earlier, Water was stalled – to the extent that Deepa Mehta had to shoot the film in Sri Lanka surreptitiously under the guise of making a different film. I have my own reservations against films like Water, especially when they come from film-makers not living in India and their target audiences are not Indians. But I never agreed with reasons forwarded by Hindu fundamentalist in their protest. For all that came across, Water was just another film depicting things existed; if they are hard to swallow, so be it – change those old malpractices if you can!
Â
Much before Water, Mehta had faced the same problem during the screening of Fire. Again, I had my own reservations against that film, much different from what VHP/Shiv Sena wanted us to believe. Fire was a lousy piece of cinema, soporific, slow paced and an insult to lesbians. Like its successor-in-theme corny flick Girlfriend, Fire gave no respectable breathing space to the lesbians’ cause, and was a pretty juvenile attempt at portraying a solemn issue. Just because it had ‘serious’ stars like Nandita Das and Shabana Azmi, it gathered reflected respectability; else, for me it’s a film that deserved to be trashed, and would have drowned unsung in the gutter of box office oblivion had not the Shiv Sainiks jumped to rescue it and flaunt its stinking carcass!Â
However, at the same time, I am not at all for the ‘freedom of expression’ bullshit forwarded. It sounds paradoxical, but my argument is that there shouldn’t be any direct assault to anyone’s religion. The Danish cartoons were in bad taste. Just as MF Hussain’s nude paintings of Hindu Goddessess. Let’s leave the Gods, Goddessess, Prophets and Messiahs aside; let’s not caricature them; doodle them; or, present them in twisted way. That is not ‘fiction’. That is a deliberate attempt at poking at someone’s idols.Â
But if there is a fictional account involving them, or some theory, or some untold story by all means go ahead, write it, paint it or make a film but keep the disclaimer ‘a work of fiction’ in bold. Tomorrow if there is a story involving some secret documents involving Lord Rama, I am sure it would make an interesting fictional thriller – as long as it doesn’t insult Lord Rama.
Which, I believe, The Da Vince Code, the book, doesn’t do to Christian God, so I doubt the film version will deviate too much away from its source.  To me, the book was a good time pass read; very well thought of, with an exciting pace and adrelanin-rushing narrative flow and an enthralling climax – but just at that; beyond this, I didn’t bother to think to hard. In fact, amongst Dan Brown’s ouvre, I rate Angels and Demons his best work.
Coming back to the original intention of writing this post, my worry is of different kind. Da Vince Code is only a movie version of a book that has been around for quite some time. Why this sudden obsession in banning it? Were the powers-that-be sleeping earlier when the book was selling like hot cakes in India? Wasn’t the religion threatened then?Â
Or, has it been taken for granted that book reading is such an obscure hobby amongst Indians that even those who bought it wouldn’t have really bothered to much to understand or go through it comprehensively, and most would have bought it just to show that they are ‘up to date’ with the latest best seller? Hence, this brouhaha over the film’s release.Â
If the matter of contention is only the punchline ‘come and know the truth’ used in the trailors, that is something that the makers need to look into. Surely, they can have it removed to ensure a smooth and trouble-free release. But I feel that is not exactly the real issue. Or again, on second thoughts, it might be – after all, in these days of limited attention span, any controversy is good marketing!Â
So, what’s your take on this issue? And no, for this you need not SMS at 3535, typing DVC followed by a space and your opinion, nor do you have to call at 1600-11-3535 (whose lines will be forever busy, yet there will thousand responses) ;-P – the comment box below is good enough!Â
Rajesh Roshan has come up with quite an unlikely present day song. And I was correct. The roots of this melody can be traced in the background score of Kaho Na Pyar Hai. In the scene where Hrithik and Amisha are stranded on a deserted island, pharm there is a shot where Hrithik is running towards the make-shift flag (made of Amisha’s skirt) – the dholak-based tune in that shot is same as the lines, ‘Aao sunaoon pyaar ki ek kahani’.
Often music directors develop their own background scores into full-fledged songs. Shankar-Jaikishan were particularly known to do this often. Shiv Hari converted Chandni‘s love theme into the sumptuous Kabhi Mai Kahun for Lamhe.
The reason that we don’t get to hear more such instances these days is that music composers don’t do the background scores of their films. In all probabilities, there is a separate composer involved to do the background music.
Now I hope KNPH’s background score was Rajesh Roshan’s own only; else, in these days of ‘open source’ you never know whose tune becomes someone else’s. The website, http://www.itwofs.com/ has exposed that the second promoted song ‘Dil na diya’ is a lift from Turkish source! Sigh! Wither originality? Rajesh Roshan is not even ‘over worked’ to not have used his brains to create something fresh – and he can’t hide behind ‘producer-ne-kaha’ excuse because this is a family production. So Roshan saab, care to explain why?
People like Preetam have made a career out of copying tunes. My letter in Filmfare May 2006 won the Best Letter Prize ripping apart Preetam’s claims as an ‘original composer’ ( he said he ‘rarely’ copied, and when he did he always mentioned the source). Do read it if you can.
The site itwofs is a goldmine as it exposes many composers’ thefts – old and new; along with a write up, the site owner Karthik presents small clips, giving proof of the extent which composers have stolen the original tune. Needless to say that the newer composers are more blatant and unabashed in their copying. The older ones made sure to cover it up enough with their own signature style and effort.
Some big shocks from this site were the absolutely shameless lifts in Dhadkan, Parineeta and Khamoshi songs. But what broke the heart (and even Karthik mentions it so) was Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak‘s ‘Akele hain toh kya gham hai’; as he states:
This would rate as one of the most heart-breaking lifts I’ve encountered so far! And its so damn blatant that you almost think that the instrumental piece I’ve added here is simply an instrumental version of the QSQT track. The first thing that came to my mind after listening to the original was, ‘…and they got paid for this?’ Note: I still think someone’s gonna mail me saying that the original listed above is nothing but an instrumental version of the Hindi track and that this site sucks.
In a recent interview Himesh Reshammiya said he makes music for the young generation which downloads songs from internet. Coming from an industry insider, this is the nearest one can get to legitimizing music piracy – and quite a volte face from his colleague Shabana Azmi, who once came shrilly pounding like a demented matron on Modern School kids dangling her finger at them, warning against music piracy (never mind the kids looked blankly trying to see if they have black patches over their eyes, the only image of pirates they know from story books!)
This a huge change from the past.
Any one from the generation of fifties/sixties will have fond stories to relate about the effort they made to listen to their favorite songs. I have heard it from dad. I have read it in many groups/forums – people have cycled long distances just to go to a shop playing the records of then current hits. I guess, that’s the reason the composers of that era had so much responsibility towards their listeners, (who made genuine efforts in appreciating their hard work), and thus they thought it fit to give them value-for-effort (mind you, in essence downloading and listening from a shop are similar; either ways, one is not buying the album – but the amount of hard work gone is different).
But now music is easy come and easy go; and I reckon, that’s how it is created as well.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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I admit I am not too well versed in Kalpana Lajmi’s cinema, this web
and haven’t watched any of her films barring the refreshingly honest Ek Pal. My association with her is restricted to Lata Mangeshkar’s extremely eloquent ‘Dil Hoom Hoom Kare’ from Rudaali. Hence, sick
I approached Chingaari with an open mind, and to say it left me cold is a major understatement.
Chingaari is one of those B-and-C-grade films masquerading as an art film. It is a puerile and pathetic piece of cinema that has neither the content nor flow to captivate audiences. It seems Lajmi’s intention was to shock and sensationalise the audience without any care for aesthetics or form.
The story is set in a typical North Indian village, Rangpur which has a designated red light area called Lal Batti (how unimaginative!). The gullible villagers are firmly held in tight clutches of the evil head-priest Bhuvan Panda (Mithun Chakraborty), who abuses his authority for own selfish motives. He keeps them involved in meaningless religious mumbo-jumbos instigating fear in their heart to retain his superiority over them. He uses illogical rites like making a naked virgin girl sit on his lap, while he places himself over a corpse, in order to exorcise the dead man’s evil spirit! Even though he berates prostitutes, resorting to physical and verbal abuse even if they so much as touch the Goddess’ idol inadvertently, still he has no qualms in spending the nights at their place – practicing wild, kinky and sadist sex!
One such prostitute is Basanti (Sushmita Sen), who lives with her daughter Titli, and ekes out her living in that deplorable condition.
In this murky environment enters the fresh, educated and young postman Chandan Mishra (Anuj Sawhney). Like any villager postman, he not only delivers letters, but reads them out and writes for them, and in a sense he becomes a confidante, friend and mentor to them. An unstated, muted and sublime love develops between Chadan and Basanti, cemented by his affection for the latter’s fatherless daughter! He also instigates revolt against Bhuvan Panda.
No doubt the love story between the postman and the prostitute (incidentally, the film’s original title as well) is good, and could have been a classy saga of romance, sacrifice and valor. Unfortunately, Lajmi seems to have seen too many Neha Dhupia flicks of late, hence it ends up being a loud, crass and disgusting melodrama.
The narrative moves in jerks and fits, and the screenplay is shoddy. There is no continuum in the movement, and several unwanted scenes are repetitive or too lengthy for comfort; the running time is also inordinately long; looks as if the editor just did not know his job. Sequences where the prostitutes are interacting are gross. Sushmita’s introduction scene where she instigates two colleagues fighting over a customer and urges them to use words like ‘randi’ and ‘chinaal’ is horrible.
The dialogues are crappy, peppered liberally with obscenities and profanities and are written only to evoke shock value. The climax is hilarious – Sushmita goes to the village temple with her hair flying wild, drums beating and picks up a trishul and kills Bhuvan Panda – it’s straight from those forgettable mid-eighties dacoit/revenge dramas that had infested Bollywood that time!
Production value is shoddy and camera work is tacky. The music (by Adesh Srivastava) is nothing to write home (or anywhere) about.
Sushmita Sen gives a relatively good performance, though she appears too urban to pass off as a rustic prostitute convincingly. Anuj Sawhney is adequate. But Mithun Chakraborty is too tired and haggard! Ila Arun, as the red light area’s head-madame, is ok.
The film does nothing to sensitize against the prostitute’s plight; nor does it help to lay spotlight on interior
India’s woeful condition. In the end, it’s not even good cinema. This chingaari fizzles out without lighting any fire. I hope Lajmi drops the ‘neice of Guru Dutt’ tag for the time being till she returns with a more meaningful and involving film!
Overall: Avoid
Side Notes
While on prostitutes, I read the following somewhere: during the shoot of Kalyug abroad, Deepal Shaw was mistaken for a whore by another one from the tribe there! Despite liking Shaw in that film, my overall impression of her is that – to put it very bluntly – she looks like a slut! Her music videos are largely responsible for giving that image. In the write-up that I read, Shaw narrated this incident with obvious glee. I don’t know about her, but if I were in her place, I would have taken serious offence and not publicize this fact and, more importantly, do some serious introspection!
Secondly, who is that goddamn singer who has screeched ‘Aa darr ke marr’ from Darna Zaroori Hai! It’s the most irritating, grating and awful voice I have heard in recent times. If the brief given to her was to sound sexy and scary at the same time, she has got it widely wrong! Why does Ram Gopal Verma waste money and time in recording songs which no one is going to buy? Stardust (April 2006) carries a piece on Verma’s deteriorating position in the industry. Though Stardust in itself is a gossip magazine, but still some facts are true and cannot be ignored – his films (except Sarkar) have all flopped, his proteges are deserting him and his financers are distancing themselves.
Hope Darna Zaroori Hai bails him out. I liked the first part (Darna Marna Hai) and am eagerly awaiting the release of the second one now!
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
This review was written the same day I saw the film, dermatologist
which was on 4th February. But seeing the overwhelmingly positive reactions for the film didn’t have heart to publish it. Till the time I told Anubha about its existence. She reprimanded me for not putting it up and reminded me that on my blog I had complete right to write whatever I felt. True, help
perhaps I have been playing to the gallery quite a lot, visit this
and taking ‘the popular’ tag a bit too seriously than warranted. Thanks Anubha for the reality check!
Blame it on the huge expectation – but fact is I found Rang De Basanti just about ok, a different film, but just about that. Somehow it couldn’t involve me into its narration. There were too many incoherent details which left me cold – some were minor quibbles regarding Delhi’s depiction: why the hell did Sonia (Soha Ali) take Sue via Red Fort if they were going to University from Delhi Airport? There is a much shorter and convenient route! And then, that was clearly not anywhere close to Delhi University for sure! It was India Habitat Center passed off as DU!
Even though Rakeysh Mehra struggles to deploy a conventional story telling format, he is unable to fully discard the now-standard jump-cuts and fast-track editing styles; at few crucial points these neo-modern techniques crop up horrifyingly. The post-interval lathi charge scene is one prime example. Instead of gripping the audience in a tight-fist and knocking a solid punch, he shows a collage alternating between slow-motion and hazy movements with a dull song in the background. The entire sequence’s steam, whose build-up begins with Ajay Rathod’s death, dissipates away like a pressure cooker rudely taken off the burner!
The transformation of youth doesn’t come around neatly. I kept thinking of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s Swades, and how he had handled Mohan Bhargav’s transition smoothly! Here, it is erratic and abrupt. Also, in Swades the awakening is not linked to personal tragedy, making it more sublime. Here it seems more like those eighties personal vendetta film wearing a neo-modern cloak!
The story is interesting – but the climax is very shoddy: it takes away the entire thrust of the film’s message. Here, I am not talking about the defence minister’s too-easy-to-be-true murder, which can be accorded to the director’s creative license. But it’s the death of all protagonists which I could not digest. Does the maker want to tell the youth that if they have to do something for the country they will necessarily be killed? And does it really make the nation rise in protest? Except for a few shots of some students talking to NDTV, which sounded like a storm in a teacup and extremely unconvincing, the film-maker remains stunningly silent on their action’s impact. To me, their sacrifice looked futile. Plus, where did the Commandos come from? And why?
Agreed that Rakeysh Mehra wanted to draw a parallel to Bhagat Singh et al, but shouldn’t the climax have moved away to show the difference of the eras and of the youth, then and now! I feel an intelligent comparison need not be hundred percent overlapping – though the rising could be compared but the end needed much brain which was definitely not put to use. A mature writer draws parallel, brings them to a crossroad, but from there takes it to a separate and higher denouement. And this is where the film fails, and the reason why it couldn’t touch me at all.
Another fact which irked me was Sue’s character – did Mehra really have to use a foreigner to awaken youth-conscience and youth conscious? Is this some surreptitious handshake with old British ideology that ‘it is always white man’s burden’ to take care of Indians? Sorry, Mehra – an upright Indian NGO worker could have made the point more clear and driven home the fact more scathingly – and if Mehra feels that such people don’t exist, sorry he needs to open his wider!
On the plus side – the film gives ample space to every character though it could have incorporated a bit on Soha Ali and Sharman Joshi’s background/home as well.
Performance-wise the film is a topper – Soha Ali is a huge revelation especially after her wooden acting in Dil Maange More. She slips into her character’s skin effortlessly. Sharman Joshi, Kunal Kapoor and Atul Kulkarni live their part with aplomb. Siddharth, who gets maximum footage amongst the supporting cast, is a delight to watch, especially his voice modulation was impeccable (not sure if he has done the dubbing himself!). Alice Patten, with her cute night-class Hindi, is sweet and understated. Madhavan shines in his guest appearance.
But the mother of all performances is given by veteran Waheeda Rahman in her brief but strong role as Ajay’s mother. In one scene, after her son’s death, she is shown walking towards the door – her back is towards the camera, yet her entire body language, the minor tremor, the slight limp as she walks shows a seasoned actor at work! It’s a one small shot, where she is not even facing the camera – yet, she literally walks away with all accolades!
There are some smaller but solid parts – Om Puri, Kirron Kher and Anupam Kher who do their bit fabulously.
AR Rahman’s music is good in parts, though his background score was lacking – the odd sound during Jallianwala Bagh sequence was probably meant to stir hearts, but it shook the ears more! Lata Mangeshkar’s Lukka Chhupi Bahut Hui brings a lump, and that entire sequence is very well handled (though a personal grouse will remain for editing a bulk of Lataji’s portion). Of the other songs, Mohe mohe tu rang de basanti, Paathshaala and Tu bin bataye are ok. In ‘Mohe mohe’ Mehra picks up a few leaves from Yash Chopra’s films and shows flowing mustard fields and pulsating Punjab in satiated sway – given a choice, I’d prefer the tranquil pace of ‘Aisa des hai mera’ from Veer Zaara!
I understand the film is doing very well, and I have only read praise for it – perhaps, I am getting old to enjoy these ‘youthful’ films, but once again I would leave by mentioning Swades – the patriotism, the inner journey presented in that film was far superior to RDB’s graffiti-like cocktail!
Overall: Above average
Also check out: Saba's brilliant review of the same film
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
The state of Rajasthan presents a delightful collage of vibrant colors. From the greens of Bharatpur to the pink of Jaipur to the ochre of the deserts, help
this state should be nominated as God’s own palette.
An opportunity to traverse a small slice of this rustic and splendid state presented to me yesterday. Traveling in the sturdy Ford Endeavor, we were three of us, who started the tour from Behror, a small, mid-way village between Delhi and Jaipur. From there on, we broke off civilization and the highway to course our way through ill-constructed and bumpy road towards Alwar, a town famous for its ‘maava’, a milk product.
The rains have finally opened their abundant baggage on the thirsty fields, which sway with fulsome pleasure in their dark greenery. The dotted road that cuts through the greens has not seen a proper renovation in years. Instead, the municipal corporation has fixed it in patches, resembling a beggar’s tattered dress, with black, fresh tar, sewn over the broken areas.
Like teenager’s acne, Alwar suddenly erupts out of the highway (or whatever that patchy road was). Resembling any other small town on important roots, this town also has a string of tyre, automotive spare parts and tractor shops. Shops line up like errant and ill-disciplined school children in an assembly hall, forming an irregular line. They are all small, with tin boards proclaiming their trade and shuttered. Some enterprising brand names have wormed their way in here, obviously, sensing the potential of C-class cities. We bump our way through the entire stretch of the town, passing through a couple of ‘important’ squares, and roundabouts. One such, turning to the left, leads us to the railway station, beyond which is a small outskirts village of Manduska, our object of visit here.
Manduska is much smaller than Alwar, not exactly a typical village, like Tatarpur, which we had crossed just before entering Alwar. Dusty roads, tiny shops, rickshaws, mud and people in penury greet us here.
In Rajasthan, history is there on your face, assertive and dominant. One just cannot ignore it, for the entire landscape is punctuated with forts and castles- some taken care of by the government (or the surviving generations of the royalty), others left to perish with their arcane tales buried between the solid rocks. One can only guess and imagine the purpose of a lone structure standing desolately overlooking the sprawling highway. The mountains few and far between (another of nature’s mysterious surprises of this land) are brown and dusty and dry and bear the burdens of age and barrenness. Again, they are not consistent, with their presence coming in spurts and fits. Brown, ochre and yellow are the most dominant colors of this bucolic terrain.
After Alwar, our journey brought us to many such villages, no need to list all of them- of these the most prominent was Deeg, which again has a fort, and an accompanying lake. Deeg, unfortunately, apart from its past splendor, has a more recent and current story of power, murder and conceit running through its veins. Deeg runs through a part rocky, part sandy arterial narrow road, concealing much more behind those tin-roofed kiosks and shops.
Our last stop on this route is Bharatpur- famous and well identified on the tourist map for its Bird Sanctuary. But before we reached there we had a funny misfortune. Having not taken lunch en route, we were famished by late afternoon. An alluring signboard of a sort of resort beckoned us in its inviting bright brown colors. It was two kilometers from the highway, on a small dirt track, that ended up in a small mud village, with a kind of fort looming ominously over it. The entrance to the fort was through a steep climb; even the otherwise healthy Endeavor heaved through the gradient. The fort was indeed very ominous, made of solid stone, and a huge iron gate. It looked a bit too run down to be a inhabited, thought the signboard had clearly proclaimed it to be a resort. On inspection, and our call, a dour waiter produced itself. Lunch milega, we asked expectantly. His incredulous reply was, sorry; no…you do not have a booking for lunch. With our jaws dropped, we stared at him in dumb incredulity. Booking? For Lunch? Amazing, no!
A peep into the fort confirmed our worst fears…we had pushed our luck a bit too far. The place was in ruins; I doubt any one ever came there. The setting was perfect for a shoot of a horror film.
And now on to Bharatpur…Due to the presence of the sanctuary several hotels have sprung up around it to cater to the tourist who would like to stay there overnight (Otherwise, most prefer to make it a day trip, since its 180 kms from Jaipur and only 58 kms from Agra). As in all such tourist destinations, these hotels come in all sizes and shapes and with exotic names like Bird’s Inn, Crane Crib and Peacock Hotel, etc (obviously keeping in mind the sanctuary).
During our search for a suitable place to spend the night there, we stumble upon the most unbelievable, the most unusual and the most pathetic sights of all times- at least none of us could believe our eyes, and none of us had seen it before this day…on the road to Jaipur, just a few kilometers away from the sanctuary, there is actually an open-air brothel! A few meters are lined up with huts and shanties, on both sides, and girls stand on the roadside inviting customers. The girls are decked up in loud and vulgar dresses (a cheap red color being the most favorite), with heavy red lipstick, chalky powder on the face, and a sweet, alluring but false smile on their lips, waving and calling the passing cars. Worse, this seems to be their acknowledged way of living, for routine life goes on around them as usual- old men are sitting on the cots, sleeping (drunk?) and elderly women are chatting or making dinner, or filling water, or removing lice from another’s hair; in short, remove the girls standing there, it is just another a mini-slum that one can even see in the cities now on small roadsides or alleys. It is open prostitution with a stamp of approval from their immediate society. I pity the plight of the girls born in this society (some do not look any older than thirteen years), sucked into this obscene trade for no fault of theirs, and also getting a sanction for doing so by what seemed to be their own family and relatives. If this is real India, then it certainly is not shining. I believe these girls sell their flesh for as low as five hundred rupees.
As we cross the place, my eye catches hold of an obviously more elderly lady sitting on a cot, but also in that same bright red make up. Age and men have already done their rampage on her. Yet, she invites, with her saree pallu dropped down in a futile attempt to look more sexy…but its her eyes that tell all: desperation (to get a client), hope (to get some money) and prayer (to sleep with a tummy full) all rolled together and pasted on her frustratingly facile façade. Our eyes meet, and she makes one last attempt, before I move forward in the car; I have turn back in my seat to see her; her eyes have drooped in sadness…was that a sigh that escaped her horrifyingly red lips?
(We stayed the night in Bharatpur; the next day we left for Jaipur, stopping midway at a few other villages and towns like Dausa, Sikandara- famous for its fine handiwork on soft stone- and Mahua. This journey was quite similar to the one described above, as the landscape did not change much. The Bharatpur-Jaipur highway is no better, and it was a bumpy ride again. On our way, also saw two Jackie Chan films on the VCD of the Endeavor: Thunderbolt and Spanish Connection. While the former was a bit too much of action for me to digest, the latter was quite interesting and resembled those good old sixties movies of Bollywood- with just the right dose of action, and the requisite dash of comedy and romance. Apart from this, the driver was considerate enough to play some beautiful Lata Mangeshkar numbers).
I don’t know how far it is true, malady but I speak from my personal experience – separating a man from his moustaches is quite an impossible task. Hrishikesh Mukherjee built an entire comedy revolving around mouches – remember Golmaal? And Utpal Dutt’s indignant stand – munch nahin toh mard nahin! I sport one. But unlike Utpal Dutt in the film, physician I do not twirl any morality into them; but yes, it seems without them I would be not complete.
Love for moustaches is not hereditary. Even if it is, then I am that perfect exception which always exists in every theory. My father does not sport one, neither did my grandfathers (both sides), none of my mamas, and not my chachas. Yet, as far as I recall I always wanted to have one. I am not sure where the influence came from.
Once the down was established, I never had the courage to remove it. Earlier my mother would often jokingly ask me to remove it, at least to see how I look clean-shaven. But the very thought would send a cold shiver down my spine. The only time I shaved it off was way back in college – that entire week I felt I was roaming naked. After that, I have never attempted. Plus, Lamhe released, and I viewed Anil Kapoor’s stiff upper lip in the first half, painfully aware at his obvious discomfort – while viewing the film, I patted my mouche lovingly – no baby, I am not murdering you ever! Few years later, King Uncle came. There was an entire parody based on Anu Aggarwal trying to get Jackie to trim off his weirdly shaped mouche. Even though I don’t have that horrendous shape, still I payed close attention to the song.
Just in case the girls are feeling left out, let me say it’s quite similar to having your long hair chopped off. I remember the pangs my sister went through when she went in for a new, short hair-style. That furthered my resolve – I wouldn’t subject myself to this mental agony!
Years passed, and off and on I did get the arrant urge off and on to do something drastic; but always controlled these wild thoughts. During these years, I would look with envy and awe at people who could regularly experiment with their face. My elder brother-in-law is one such person – he has tried everything: mustaches, clean-shaven, French beard, full beard – in short, the full works! My younger brother-in-law deserted his mouche, and never returned back to it. His reasoning – too much white hair peeping out there!
On my part I just saw them in mute admiration for their guts, secretly hoping some day I will be brave enough. The maximum I did was to trim off the thick eighties South Indian-film-hero-style bushy crop to a sophisticated slim one; sometimes using the scissor to such effect that it is barely visible. But never went full monty over my upper lip! Thankfully, white hairs (which are quite in abundance over the scalp) have not made their detrimental foray into my mouche!
Before coming to Nepal I had thought of doing so. It’s much easier if you go with a new look to a new place; at least, no one will walk up to you and peer into your face as if you are some exotic animal just escaped from the zoo! But, no – I couldn’t bring myself to it!
Today morning, while shaving, I had that animalistic strong urge again to wipe off the face clean. But as ever, in some innate defence mechanism, the heart beat shot up, the hand trembled, the mouth went dry and the razor looked menacingly but couldn’t complete its act. Before this primeval instinct betrayed me, hastily I moved away from the wash-basin.
But yes, someday I am going to do get over this fear. Also, these days clean-shaven look seems to be in-fashion. When I was growing up, it was the other way round. So, I guess I should be up-to-date with times. Will keep you and this blog posted the day I do ‘the act’!
[As of now, done nothing with the mouche- DJ, April ’06]
[re-posted with ecto]
Shifting back is a tedious process. While coming here things were easy. Initially, ed there were a series of India-visits and I got all the stuff I required slowly and steadily. Plus, over the months I purchased other useful items here. But going back, means packing them all up in one single go. Thankfully, since the decision was taken I had taken few stuff back last time. However, I realise now that the ‘few’ stuff was precisely that only – few! A large bulk remained, and I am at my wits ends getting them all packed or disposing them off.
Employing a packing agency is almost impossible at this short a notice. In any case, I don’t have that many things which would justify employing one. One more issue is that though the agitation has ceased, there is still a districts-wide blockade by Maoists, so I can never be sure when my goods will reach if I send them through road using a packing agent.
Worse, the nineteen-days agitation/curfews meant that I couldn’t move around to complete pending jobs. Some of them were crucial, and involved monetary refunds – mobile connection , internet connection, gas etc. It all opened up yesterday, and I am buried under an avalanche of things to complete. To add to the troubles, the lap-top will also go very shortly, and I am struggling to get personal files out from there, which include a mammoth 2 GB worth of songs, some of them rare Lata Mangeshkar numbers. Woefully, the CD drive has gone for a toss and I can’t store them on discs. I have to find ways of taking them out, and fast at that! Any good suggestion is most welcome!
If that wasn’t enough, then I suddenly got a call from my organisation to return two days earlier, which catapulted the entire process into a dizzying orbit of confusion.
Today’s horoscope in The Himalayan Times seems uncannily true:
A whirlwind surrounds you. You find that plans change. A new friend could appear on the scene. You could be delighted by what a simple call draws. Socialize, reach out for others. Tonight: Meet a friend!
I don’t know about the last part, since the day has yet to unfold completely. But the first two sentences are bang on. Hell, why didn’t I pay attention to these horoscopes earlier!
Anyways, I shall take leave now. For those visiting from previous Random Expressions, warm welcome; for new readers, welcome aboard! This is not a formal launch as yet. That I will do only when I am back in India.
By the time you read this, cheap I will be flying over mighty Himalayas to reach my homeland. Thanks to the facility on WordPress to change the date/time stamp, plague I have deliberately kept this post dated 28th April 2006 – the day I bade farewell to Nepal. I will not get time in the morning to post anything.
I am quite confused as to how to write this post. The past few days have been hectic, and I haven’t had time to assimilate my thoughts. I had planned to write a comprehensive post covering key aspects of my stay here, but I think that one will have to wait.Â
Right now, emotions are strong, and I will allow myself to immerse in them.
For me, leaving a country/city/home is not new. I have been doing it since I was eleven month’s old, courtesy my father’s transferable job. Yet, everytime there is always a surge of feelings which refuse to be categorized - most are expected ones like sorrow (at leaving a place, a city, a house where time is spent), happiness (at going back to parents) and nervousness (involving packing), but some are uncharacteristic, of which I will mention one : regret! Regret that I could have done something more substantial here, something more concrete and useful! There is a uncanny thought running in my mind that I am leaving something incomplete here! Well, I will leave it at that because try as much as I want to I am unable to put the thoughts into word correctly here; maybe later when I have more time, I will try to unravel this one in detail!
It’s the reactions of the people I was associated with that has caught me by absolute surprise. All along, I had maintained a friendly but distanced and professional relationship with them. Suddenly, I have been inundated by overwhelmingly sweet mails/calls/gifts; and that has left an irrepressible lump in my throat.
Seeing this, somewhere, somehow I feel I have succeeded as a human being.
To end my stay here, like a sumptuous dessert after a fulfilling meal, I had the good chance of meeting a blogger. However, the meet details will have to be wait for now.
Right now, let me just say – Farewell Nepal , and I hope peace reigns here soon; Will miss you terribly, and yes be ready to welcome me if I come here again 🙂
By the time you read this, cheap I will be flying over mighty Himalayas to reach my homeland. Thanks to the facility on WordPress to change the date/time stamp, plague I have deliberately kept this post dated 28th April 2006 – the day I bade farewell to Nepal. I will not get time in the morning to post anything.
I am quite confused as to how to write this post. The past few days have been hectic, and I haven’t had time to assimilate my thoughts. I had planned to write a comprehensive post covering key aspects of my stay here, but I think that one will have to wait.Â
Right now, emotions are strong, and I will allow myself to immerse in them.
For me, leaving a country/city/home is not new. I have been doing it since I was eleven month’s old, courtesy my father’s transferable job. Yet, everytime there is always a surge of feelings which refuse to be categorized - most are expected ones like sorrow (at leaving a place, a city, a house where time is spent), happiness (at going back to parents) and nervousness (involving packing), but some are uncharacteristic, of which I will mention one : regret! Regret that I could have done something more substantial here, something more concrete and useful! There is a uncanny thought running in my mind that I am leaving something incomplete here! Well, I will leave it at that because try as much as I want to I am unable to put the thoughts into word correctly here; maybe later when I have more time, I will try to unravel this one in detail!
It’s the reactions of the people I was associated with that has caught me by absolute surprise. All along, I had maintained a friendly but distanced and professional relationship with them. Suddenly, I have been inundated by overwhelmingly sweet mails/calls/gifts; and that has left an irrepressible lump in my throat.
Seeing this, somewhere, somehow I feel I have succeeded as a human being.
To end my stay here, like a sumptuous dessert after a fulfilling meal, I had the good chance of meeting a blogger. However, the meet details will have to be wait for now.
Right now, let me just say – Farewell Nepal , and I hope peace reigns here soon; Will miss you terribly, and yes be ready to welcome me if I come here again 🙂
Suddenly it all went topsy-turvy.
Coming back home should have been easy, sick and comfortable. And that’s what I had thought too. Till the time I unpacked my bags here, and realized that nineteen months is quite a long time for new routines to settle in, which I weren’t aware of, or had missed during my brief two-three days visit every month. These changes, although subtle, can be quite irritating.
Also, I had myself got used to the carefree ways of living alone, so getting back into the routine groove took some time. To add to the woes, my laptop went away with the old job. Hence, I was technologically a bit crippled. Getting a new PC, and then an internet connection was a tedious process, made more tedious with the amount of options available, making me wonder whether it was better to live in a place where choices were limited?
Anyway, I shall skip the details here. As also, will skip the lament about Delhi’s awful temperatures! It’s an annual recurrence, and each year seems more ‘tough’ than the previous ones; I am pretty tired of hearing ‘par picchle saal itni garmi nahi thi…’ when the fact is every year has its own share of ‘hottest’ days. Amusingly, the same thing is said in winters with the season changed in the above sentence!
I am still struggling in getting ‘settled’, though with an internet connection now, I feel much at home!
With this post, I also formally launch the site, and will be now onwards regular in posting here! Keep reading!
I am not really a news freak; at the most, refractionist I view the various news channels (and there seem to be quite a lot of them!) with nothing more than a perfunctory interest, condom stopping at them just long enough to catch the headlines. Beyond this, epilepsy their utility seems suspect. At times, they look idiots pretending to be intellectuals.
This sudden deluge of news is unbalancing, especially since I have lived without TV for long.
Even the size of newspapers is shocking. In Kathmandu, leading English dailies like Himalayan Times were at the most 12-16 pages, while Kathmandu Post finished in 6 pages; no supplements, no add-ons! In Delhi, the newspapers seem to be more weight-lifting instruments than reading materials!
Electricity Shortage Coverage
Delhi’s electricity woes are quite legendary. Hence, I didn’t find it very odd that despite privatization the situation is only marginally better, but overall quite status quo as before. Hence, I found it very funny the way all channels went ad nauseum about the power shortage in the past few days. Funnier sights were the way they interviewed some citizens, and collected a small crowd together clucking their tongues and grumbling about the power situation. You had this fifty plus gentleman with a serious face cribbing about For all you know, that person would have literally grown up without electricity in his childhood; I am sure the situation is much better than that now! There was a young yuppy-ish father lamenting on loss of study time for children, while two precocious kids smiled gleefully into the camera, not really looking that concerned about missed studies! Another lady came on, more content that she was on camera, than making any serious point about power generation.
The entire sequence wore a grotesquely comic look, and gave a farcical effect –an attempt at making serious news out of nothing! Surprisingly, there was no soundbyte from the power company honchos or government powers-that-be, which could have somewhat added value to the show. Overall I fail to understand the purpose of creating such a program- there is power shortage, inform it and move on; what was the point of creating a masquerade that served no better purpose other than probably making those who came on-screen call up their friends and relatives to boast that ‘they came on TV’!
That was one instance. The other was obviously the detailed coverage of Pramod Mahajan. This was kind of given in today’s world. Celebrity sickness and death have become the nation’s entertainment. However, it all depends on the celebrity and the way he/she choses to die!
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Celebrity Deaths
Two celebrity deaths in a week’s span were shocking. But it’s the print media’s coverage of both that left me extremely cold (I will only mention print media here, as I skipped the television channels). While Pramod Mahajan got full front page space, music maestro Naushad’s demise was relegated to small column corners.
This only led me to think on two aspects – a) are we really a nation crazed and obsessed with politicians, politics and power, while finer things like arts/artistic talent are relegated to sidelines? b) Or, are we so given to sensationalism that a normal death hardly matters to anyone, even if the person involved is someone of Naushad’s stature!
Following is a letter I shot off to Hindustan Times (and published today; print edition):
Pramod Mahajan’s family has suffered a great deal but as a politician he didn’t do much for the average citizen. On the other hand, Naushad’s music has charmed millions down the ages and continues to entertain. If the media reports on the basis of a person’s influence on people is to be taken, then surely Naushad’s death should have been given at least half as much space as was devoted to politican Mahajan?
Particularly galling was the fact that responsible newspapers like Times of India got their facts completely wrong – Pakeezah was not Naushad’s score! To put it up as a choice on their daily vote was downright pathetic. Pakeezah’s major portion of music is by Ghulam Mohammad, and Naushad Saab only did the background score and one ‘tarana’ after Mohammad’s death.
More likely, the difference in the coverage by newspapers lies in the third option: it’s the “age of the present†– ‘chadte sooraj ko pranaam karna’ is a famous saying in Hindi. And Naushad Saab was definitely not at his prime when he died. In this jet-age where a two month old song becomes eligible to be featured in ‘bhooli bisre geet’ program, Naushad was a relic from a forgotten era. Many youngsters would not even know his name, though they might dance to a remix from his ouvre.
Perhaps, it’s time to think and stop a while that in our race to move ahead, in this mad rush to be on the top, we are forgetting a lot of our past – be it the freedom fighters, or the artistes, or more near us, our grandparents/elders! Wasn’t Rang De Basanti really trying to say this?
I will not condone the way actor Rajkumar’s fans went berserk, bringing the entire city to a complete halt. That was the other extreme.
I am sure there is a middle path that will honor the legend adequately, as well as keep the news diarrhea in check!
Last night Zee aired The Hero – Love Story of A Spy ; the film was a box office dud, heart but somehow I had enjoyed it at that time. Watching it again was equally interesting. This was the review I had written to send to Filmfare at that time.
With a song on his lips, viagra 100mg power in his biceps, viagra punch in his voice, here comes our dashing, daring and dynamic hero. He changes his appearance faster than a chameleon, crosses the LOC single-handedly to save his beloved, preaches about nuclear bombs, and wins the hearts of the masses with his charms.Â
With his penchant for Sunny Deol, Pakistan-bashing and climaxes in fast moving trains, Anil Sharma returns with his latest patriotic saga, titled, very aptly- The Hero. The sub-title (Love Story of A Spy) is a misnomer, but then, Gadar (Sharma’s previous big hit) had a ‘love story’ in its name, so we can assume it was added for superstitious benefits. Else, the love story in the film is even less loose than Pakistan’s reason for claiming Kashmir!!!
The story is about Arun Khanna, a RAW spy, who has only one mission in life: to expose ISI Chief Isaaq Khan (Amrish Puri) and his obnoxious plan of handing over nuclear bomb to the Kashmir jehadis. On one such mission to Kashmir, he falls in love with a pretty village belle (Priety Zinta) but loses her due to the evil designs of Khan saab and his coterie. Thereafter, he is back to his mission, exposes Isaaq Khan and finds his beloved back. The film is a potent and vital blend of James Bond’s chutzpah with a dollop of Mission Impossible-like brazenness, laced with just a tinge of emotional sheen of our very own Bollywood. And all this wrapped in a shimmering package of color and charisma.Â
Writer Shaktiman must be commended for penning a script that does not tire one bit- it’s a high-speed neck-breaking ride through the avalanches of Kashmir, to the battle in the jungles, to the scientific maze of a nuclear bomb factory to the ultimate orgasmic-like blowing up of the beautiful engagement-set climaxing with a thrilling, chilling climax in a stark red train against virgin white snow!! Honest, its breathtaking….jhoot bole jo use kaat khaaye bichhua.Â
Priety Zinta gives an honest and heartwarming performance as Reshma, the Kashmiri belle. Priyanka Chopra is wasted in a brief cameo, though she shows some bright sparks in her debut. Amrish Puri regurgitates his Gadar performance (anyway, in how many ways can he be a big bad Pakistani). And what to say of Rajat Bedi, the poor guy came to be a hero. In The Hero is relegated as the villain’s sidekick. Â
And finally, Sunny Deol- he is the Hero– definitive, decisive and dramatic. He proves that he is the men among all the heroes around- the role fits him like a hand in glove- no loose wrinkle anywhere, no open space left anywhere.Â
Uttam Singh’s music is adequate (in any case the songs are sensibly used as an aid to the background score) and the song “Dil mein hai pyaar teraâ€* has the making of a superhit number. The cinematography is bright and dazzling, the editing crisp and crackling, the dialogues pithy and sizzling.Â
Anil Sharma’s direction is full of élan. Though there are some obvious glitches (how can an ISI chief just go to America to catch hold of one man, that too without full precaution?) and some avoidable clichés (the muffler with the initial engraved getting lost and being found by the woe-be-gone heroine was more kitsch than cliché!!!!), still Sharma manages to hold the entire show together in one whole watch able yarn. Yes, The Hero is a mega carnival show- bright, luminous and large-than-life.
Watch it, enjoy it and forget it!!!!
*The song like the film didnt set the charts on fire; personally, I feel its a wonderful composition and deserved to be a hit!
Last night Zee aired The Hero – Love Story of A Spy ; the film was a box office dud, heart but somehow I had enjoyed it at that time. Watching it again was equally interesting. This was the review I had written to send to Filmfare at that time.
With a song on his lips, viagra 100mg power in his biceps, viagra punch in his voice, here comes our dashing, daring and dynamic hero. He changes his appearance faster than a chameleon, crosses the LOC single-handedly to save his beloved, preaches about nuclear bombs, and wins the hearts of the masses with his charms.Â
With his penchant for Sunny Deol, Pakistan-bashing and climaxes in fast moving trains, Anil Sharma returns with his latest patriotic saga, titled, very aptly- The Hero. The sub-title (Love Story of A Spy) is a misnomer, but then, Gadar (Sharma’s previous big hit) had a ‘love story’ in its name, so we can assume it was added for superstitious benefits. Else, the love story in the film is even less loose than Pakistan’s reason for claiming Kashmir!!!
The story is about Arun Khanna, a RAW spy, who has only one mission in life: to expose ISI Chief Isaaq Khan (Amrish Puri) and his obnoxious plan of handing over nuclear bomb to the Kashmir jehadis. On one such mission to Kashmir, he falls in love with a pretty village belle (Priety Zinta) but loses her due to the evil designs of Khan saab and his coterie. Thereafter, he is back to his mission, exposes Isaaq Khan and finds his beloved back. The film is a potent and vital blend of James Bond’s chutzpah with a dollop of Mission Impossible-like brazenness, laced with just a tinge of emotional sheen of our very own Bollywood. And all this wrapped in a shimmering package of color and charisma.Â
Writer Shaktiman must be commended for penning a script that does not tire one bit- it’s a high-speed neck-breaking ride through the avalanches of Kashmir, to the battle in the jungles, to the scientific maze of a nuclear bomb factory to the ultimate orgasmic-like blowing up of the beautiful engagement-set climaxing with a thrilling, chilling climax in a stark red train against virgin white snow!! Honest, its breathtaking….jhoot bole jo use kaat khaaye bichhua.Â
Priety Zinta gives an honest and heartwarming performance as Reshma, the Kashmiri belle. Priyanka Chopra is wasted in a brief cameo, though she shows some bright sparks in her debut. Amrish Puri regurgitates his Gadar performance (anyway, in how many ways can he be a big bad Pakistani). And what to say of Rajat Bedi, the poor guy came to be a hero. In The Hero is relegated as the villain’s sidekick. Â
And finally, Sunny Deol- he is the Hero– definitive, decisive and dramatic. He proves that he is the men among all the heroes around- the role fits him like a hand in glove- no loose wrinkle anywhere, no open space left anywhere.Â
Uttam Singh’s music is adequate (in any case the songs are sensibly used as an aid to the background score) and the song “Dil mein hai pyaar teraâ€* has the making of a superhit number. The cinematography is bright and dazzling, the editing crisp and crackling, the dialogues pithy and sizzling.Â
Anil Sharma’s direction is full of élan. Though there are some obvious glitches (how can an ISI chief just go to America to catch hold of one man, that too without full precaution?) and some avoidable clichés (the muffler with the initial engraved getting lost and being found by the woe-be-gone heroine was more kitsch than cliché!!!!), still Sharma manages to hold the entire show together in one whole watch able yarn. Yes, The Hero is a mega carnival show- bright, luminous and large-than-life.
Watch it, enjoy it and forget it!!!!
*The song like the film didnt set the charts on fire; personally, I feel its a wonderful composition and deserved to be a hit!
Film Review
I like Abbas Mustan, order
the film industry’s sole director duo. Generally they pick up a foreign idea, oncologist
indianize it, and garnish it with good music, add a dash of comedy and serve a slickly packaged dish. Khiladi, Baazigar, Chori Chori Chupke Chupke, Aitraz, Ajnabee, Badshah and Humraaz are some of their good movies. With their brother Hussain Burmawallah at the editing table, Abbas Mustan’s films always have a smooth narrative flow.Â
Having grown up on a staple of Agatha Christies, Hindi films’ murder mysteries always leave me unfulfilled. So in that respect 36 China Town had a tough standard to live upto. But if for a moment we leave Christie-comparison aside and view 36 China Town individually as a film, it is definitely entertaining, and all above mentioned standard Abbas-Mustan ingredients are present.Â
The story is simple – A rich casino owner Sonia (Isha Koppikar) is murdered on the day she was to receive her lost baby son. The suspects include – a playboy Rocky (Upen Patel), a compulsive gambler  Natwar (Paresh Rawal), his wife Gracy (Payal Rohatgi), another gambler couple (Johny Lever and Dilnaz), a struggling actor Raj (Shahid Kapur) and Priya (Kareena Kapoor) – the last two were bringing back the lost child. There are other peripheral characters which also add to the suspense – a drunkard (Raj Zutshie), a servant couple and a lawyer (Vivek Vaswani). The inspector (Akshaye Khanna) solves the case.Â
The film has a good pace after the initial half hour; the directors falter miserably in that section. They wanted to establish events happening simultaneously but at different cities; I am sure they could have found a better means to do so. Also, Upen Patel’s introductory footage is boring and unnecessary. Tanushree Dutta-Shahid’s ‘item’ song is a huge speed breaker especially since it comes minutes after the hit ‘Aa aa ashiqui’ song; two songs at such short interval in a thriller is a strict no-no. Wonder why they retained it in the final product? Another song that could have been given the axe is “24-7 I think of youâ€.
There are a few glitches. But the biggest of them all is that Sonia is shown to be this extremely rich heiress living in a gargantuan mansion – but how come there are no gatekeepers at all to guard the palace? And, it really takes more than suspension of disbelief to imagine that Isha’s dead body could fit into that tiny suitcase – though must say, the entire comedy track revolving that suitcase is hilarious!
Amongst the performers, Akshaye Khanna outshines them all; he appears after the interval, and with an author-backed role and a charismatic performance he sweeps away the film.Â
Shahid and Kareena provide colorful glamour and are ok. The supporting casts are all talented ones and they do not let the audience down. I am sure the ladies will love Upen Patel; for me he came across as a male version of ‘behenji turned mod’; I believe his voice has been dubbed; he should keep his mouth closed anyways! Acting wise he didn’t have to try too hard; the role was tailor made for him!Â
The music by current hit-machine Himesh Reshammiya is storming the charts – and admittedly “Aa aa ashiqui†is foot tapping, catchy and picturised wonderfully. Other good songs are “Rock your body†and “Mujhe tujhme badi dilchaspi haiâ€Â
Dialogues are witty, cinematography excellent and if one can forgive the initial portion, editing is first-rate.Â
In all, it’s an interesting Sunday time-pass movie which can be watched by leaving your brains, tension and worries outside the theater.Â
Overall: Worth a view!
On the basis of its win in Bengal, visit this the Left claims it will be ‘stronger’ and have more say in the matters of Central interest. Everyone seems to have taken this with muted acknowledgement, web as if it is a but-natural thing to happen.
I fail to understand the logic. How does a win in one (or two) states change equation at the Centre? How can a regional win mean that the party has achieved right to be a bully for the entire nation?
Can any one explain? I am completely lost!
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Ministry of Information and Broadcasting has put a temporary halt on Da Vinci Code’s release. It’s a strange decision, buy and entirely unwarranted, diet though not very surprising. Of course, plague why it’s been done is no big surprise. Religion is huge in India – and any religion at that!Â
Earlier, Water was stalled – to the extent that Deepa Mehta had to shoot the film in Sri Lanka surreptitiously under the guise of making a different film. I have my own reservations against films like Water, especially when they come from film-makers not living in India and their target audiences are not Indians. But I never agreed with reasons forwarded by Hindu fundamentalist in their protest. For all that came across, Water was just another film depicting things existed; if they are hard to swallow, so be it – change those old malpractices if you can!
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Much before Water, Mehta had faced the same problem during the screening of Fire. Again, I had my own reservations against that film, much different from what VHP/Shiv Sena wanted us to believe. Fire was a lousy piece of cinema, soporific, slow paced and an insult to lesbians. Like its successor-in-theme corny flick Girlfriend, Fire gave no respectable breathing space to the lesbians’ cause, and was a pretty juvenile attempt at portraying a solemn issue. Just because it had ‘serious’ stars like Nandita Das and Shabana Azmi, it gathered reflected respectability; else, for me it’s a film that deserved to be trashed, and would have drowned unsung in the gutter of box office oblivion had not the Shiv Sainiks jumped to rescue it and flaunt its stinking carcass!Â
However, at the same time, I am not at all for the ‘freedom of expression’ bullshit forwarded. It sounds paradoxical, but my argument is that there shouldn’t be any direct assault to anyone’s religion. The Danish cartoons were in bad taste. Just as MF Hussain’s nude paintings of Hindu Goddessess. Let’s leave the Gods, Goddessess, Prophets and Messiahs aside; let’s not caricature them; doodle them; or, present them in twisted way. That is not ‘fiction’. That is a deliberate attempt at poking at someone’s idols.Â
But if there is a fictional account involving them, or some theory, or some untold story by all means go ahead, write it, paint it or make a film but keep the disclaimer ‘a work of fiction’ in bold. Tomorrow if there is a story involving some secret documents involving Lord Rama, I am sure it would make an interesting fictional thriller – as long as it doesn’t insult Lord Rama.
Which, I believe, The Da Vince Code, the book, doesn’t do to Christian God, so I doubt the film version will deviate too much away from its source.  To me, the book was a good time pass read; very well thought of, with an exciting pace and adrelanin-rushing narrative flow and an enthralling climax – but just at that; beyond this, I didn’t bother to think to hard. In fact, amongst Dan Brown’s ouvre, I rate Angels and Demons his best work.
Coming back to the original intention of writing this post, my worry is of different kind. Da Vince Code is only a movie version of a book that has been around for quite some time. Why this sudden obsession in banning it? Were the powers-that-be sleeping earlier when the book was selling like hot cakes in India? Wasn’t the religion threatened then?Â
Or, has it been taken for granted that book reading is such an obscure hobby amongst Indians that even those who bought it wouldn’t have really bothered to much to understand or go through it comprehensively, and most would have bought it just to show that they are ‘up to date’ with the latest best seller? Hence, this brouhaha over the film’s release.Â
If the matter of contention is only the punchline ‘come and know the truth’ used in the trailors, that is something that the makers need to look into. Surely, they can have it removed to ensure a smooth and trouble-free release. But I feel that is not exactly the real issue. Or again, on second thoughts, it might be – after all, in these days of limited attention span, any controversy is good marketing!Â
So, what’s your take on this issue? And no, for this you need not SMS at 3535, typing DVC followed by a space and your opinion, nor do you have to call at 1600-11-3535 (whose lines will be forever busy, yet there will thousand responses) ;-P – the comment box below is good enough!Â
Rajesh Roshan has come up with quite an unlikely present day song. And I was correct. The roots of this melody can be traced in the background score of Kaho Na Pyar Hai. In the scene where Hrithik and Amisha are stranded on a deserted island, pharm there is a shot where Hrithik is running towards the make-shift flag (made of Amisha’s skirt) – the dholak-based tune in that shot is same as the lines, ‘Aao sunaoon pyaar ki ek kahani’.
Often music directors develop their own background scores into full-fledged songs. Shankar-Jaikishan were particularly known to do this often. Shiv Hari converted Chandni‘s love theme into the sumptuous Kabhi Mai Kahun for Lamhe.
The reason that we don’t get to hear more such instances these days is that music composers don’t do the background scores of their films. In all probabilities, there is a separate composer involved to do the background music.
Now I hope KNPH’s background score was Rajesh Roshan’s own only; else, in these days of ‘open source’ you never know whose tune becomes someone else’s. The website, http://www.itwofs.com/ has exposed that the second promoted song ‘Dil na diya’ is a lift from Turkish source! Sigh! Wither originality? Rajesh Roshan is not even ‘over worked’ to not have used his brains to create something fresh – and he can’t hide behind ‘producer-ne-kaha’ excuse because this is a family production. So Roshan saab, care to explain why?
People like Preetam have made a career out of copying tunes. My letter in Filmfare May 2006 won the Best Letter Prize ripping apart Preetam’s claims as an ‘original composer’ ( he said he ‘rarely’ copied, and when he did he always mentioned the source). Do read it if you can.
The site itwofs is a goldmine as it exposes many composers’ thefts – old and new; along with a write up, the site owner Karthik presents small clips, giving proof of the extent which composers have stolen the original tune. Needless to say that the newer composers are more blatant and unabashed in their copying. The older ones made sure to cover it up enough with their own signature style and effort.
Some big shocks from this site were the absolutely shameless lifts in Dhadkan, Parineeta and Khamoshi songs. But what broke the heart (and even Karthik mentions it so) was Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak‘s ‘Akele hain toh kya gham hai’; as he states:
This would rate as one of the most heart-breaking lifts I’ve encountered so far! And its so damn blatant that you almost think that the instrumental piece I’ve added here is simply an instrumental version of the QSQT track. The first thing that came to my mind after listening to the original was, ‘…and they got paid for this?’ Note: I still think someone’s gonna mail me saying that the original listed above is nothing but an instrumental version of the Hindi track and that this site sucks.
In a recent interview Himesh Reshammiya said he makes music for the young generation which downloads songs from internet. Coming from an industry insider, this is the nearest one can get to legitimizing music piracy – and quite a volte face from his colleague Shabana Azmi, who once came shrilly pounding like a demented matron on Modern School kids dangling her finger at them, warning against music piracy (never mind the kids looked blankly trying to see if they have black patches over their eyes, the only image of pirates they know from story books!)
This a huge change from the past.
Any one from the generation of fifties/sixties will have fond stories to relate about the effort they made to listen to their favorite songs. I have heard it from dad. I have read it in many groups/forums – people have cycled long distances just to go to a shop playing the records of then current hits. I guess, that’s the reason the composers of that era had so much responsibility towards their listeners, (who made genuine efforts in appreciating their hard work), and thus they thought it fit to give them value-for-effort (mind you, in essence downloading and listening from a shop are similar; either ways, one is not buying the album – but the amount of hard work gone is different).
But now music is easy come and easy go; and I reckon, that’s how it is created as well.
While HRD Ministry draws rightful flak for its regressive reservation policy, look there is a positive tune also emanating from its corridors. The Ministry has proposed changes to the archaic Copyright Act 1957. Under the proposed changes, it will be difficult for the remix brigade to pick up any song and maul and distort it at their fancy – the journey from beautiful to beat-iful will get tougher!
Hindustan Times reports:
In a bid to protect the artistic rights of popular musicians and lyricists of Bollywood, the ministry has proposed several changes in the Copyright Act, 1957. To reproduce the tune or the lyrics in any form will require permission of the rights holder. But if the period is of less than five years, the approval will have to be taken fo rthe kind of the alterations or remix been proposed
Sounds good. Also, the credits to original artists will have to be made mandatory, and royalty paid to them as well. Very interesting – I hope they also specify the font size of these credits. Else, I can almost foresee a convenient loop-hole there.
The second issue, of which I am not sure of but can be troublesome, is that who really holds the rights of the old songs? Is it the artists or the music company? Most likely, its the latter. In that case, the changes can fall flat on its faces. Approx. 75-80% of old songs are with one company; if that company chooses not to allow grant permission to the newer ones, its ok. But, that same company is no less guilty of the remix trauma unleashed on music lovers – remember Deepal Shaw and Baby Doll remixes?
Let me find more about the ‘rights’ control.
Anyways, the proposed changes are more than welcome and I sincerely pray they implement it fast. I hope the remix fad will die down now.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, order decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, page physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, dysentery and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
Keeping Random Expressions away from Lata Mangeshkar is a sin that this blog and its owner object to strongly. Hence, decease this post is on yet another mesmerizing melody that touches the Queen’s lips and becomes divine. Unfortunately, physiotherapist the number was not used in the film, and hence it is quite forgotten.
Peeke chale, yeh chale yeh chale
Hum hai sharaabi, Hum hai sharabi
Nigahen yaar ke
Peeke chale…Mast hai hardum,
Jo hua kuch bhi nasha kam toh
WahiN thodi see peeli, thodi see peeli,
Khol do baahen, ke mile khulke nigaahen,
Ke hai yeh raat rangeeli,
Mere dilbar mere saaqi mere pyaare
Haaye, peeke chale…Mujhko mubaraq,
Mere hothon ko mubaraq,
Yeh lehakna,
Yeh chahakna,
Kisko mila hai ke mohabbat ka sila hai,
Yeh mehakna,
Yeh bahakna,
Yeh nigahen, yeh adaayen, yeh ishaare,
Haaye, peeke chale…Mauj mein hum hai,
Ke hawayon pe qadam hai, ke sitaron pe nazar hai
Yun hi guzar ho,
Na kabhi khatam safar ho,
Ke yeh rangeen safar hai,
Koi manzil, koi sahil na pukare
Haaye, peeke chale…
My favorite expression in this song is the way Lata Mangeshkar sings the word ‘nigahen’ with a shortened ‘ga’, almost the intoxicated way Meena Kumari would speak out. Also, she doesn’t sing the word ‘yaar’ with full emphasis – just a small opening of the lips, and a trifle stretch, very tiny and very mild, just the way the actress would speak; it sounds so cute in Latadi’s voice! Her ‘haaye’ is something I can die for! Latadi’s voice has a satin smooth texture which makes the number ekdum nasheela. The ‘suroor’ that it gives makes me sway languidly in its rhythm – which is very soft and very consistent. I also love the short cascade down at the end of each antara merging into the ‘mukhda’!
I have been listening to this number non-stop for the past few days. Each time, I just close my eyes and drink to the pleasure of its tune and the voice, and feel washed in relief, satisfaction and joy!
The song was recorded for Pakeezah, music by Ghulam Mohammad.
From Mukesh’s soul-stirring (and melodious) Zinda hoon iss tarah to Shibani Kashyap’s guttural scream (and off key) Zinda hoon main, one Health
Hindi film music has come a long way; and so have its noir heroes. From Raj Kapoor’s humorously dark but essentially tracing roots in light, order
bumbling tramp to Sanjay Gupta’s nether-conceptualised Armani- wearing sinister baddies is another journey that Bollywood has taken.
I would have given Zinda a complete miss had it not been the only film playing in nearly all top Kathmandu cinema-halls. Family, hospital
the other release, and my own choice, has not made its way here yet. To give Gupta his due credit, Zinda is perhaps his most cohesive and steadfast narrative to date. I wouldn’t go overboard as some critics have done in lauding about ‘realism’ because that is still truly not fully present here, though I can understand where they come from. But yes, there is a sense of starkness and throat-grabbing urgency that is, if not appealing, but certainly very attention-focussing.
Another relief is that the film has nothing to do with mafia, dons, cons or heists – a marked change in Gupta's subject choice! The tale hangs around an ordinary citizen, which also makes it forceful giving just that tantalising realistic tickle – what if it happens to normal people like you and I?
The story (picked up from whichever English/Far East DVD) is pretty enticing. Balajeet Roy (Sanjay Dutt) has everything going for him – a plush job in top software Bangkok company, a loving wife and a caring friend. One day it all collapses. He is taken captive. For 14-years he spends his life in a solitary cell, fed on fried wantons with just a television for company. Yet, his captor will not allow him to die or go insane – and releases him after 14 years for a purpose.
Roy traces his captor, but more than that he needs to find out why he was chosen for this exemplary punishment.
The film’s strength is its pace – not jerky, yet not lacking. Gupta and his co-scriptwriter weave in all essential details beautifully in dialogues, something that I have always found interesting in Barjatya or Yash Chopra films. Of course, he has his eye on the ‘interior’ market (though such films don’t work there) which makes him spell out somethings that could have been best left unsaid. Just for an example – when Sanjay Dutt claims his first tormentor, the supplier of wantons, the death was amply conveyed; yet, Gupta gives a long pan shot of the gruesome dead body – not required. The impact is severely lost!
Certain details in their gory stomach-throwing details might not find viewership acquiescence; but they do provide a taut vicarious thrill, and I guess that’s what Gupta aimed for. A word of caution – avoid taking in your pop-corn pre-interval!
Shot in nearly black-and-white hues, the film’s cinematography is first-rate. The background score elevates the sequences several notches. And Sanjay Dutt, though not really appearing an emaciapated victim fed on just fried wantons for fourteen years, gives a superb performance.
However, where Gupta falters horrendously are the solitary confinement sequences. Those were the film’s soul. But somehow the tension and morbidity of living alone just doesn’t come across, and the audience is uninvolved. That entire portion needed more padding up. Plus, a bit of realism when Dutt finally walks out to freedom would have made the film wholesome. I don’t think any one who has been fourteen years in captivity will walk the walk Dutt does! If length was a problem, Gupta could have cut out the gore!
I wouldn’t say the climax is a let down, because the tension of knowing ‘the why’ is so strong by then that any motive would have felt short of the build-up. But yes, perhaps a better justification there could have helped.
John Abraham is a wrong choice. The menace is too-contrived to hold weight. His habit of pursing his lips after every sentence is irritating – as if he is having a sore chin after a close-shave there. Lara Dutt provides glamour, and quite adequately. Celina Jeitly is as wooden as ever in her two-minute appearance. Mahesh Manjrekar is thankfully considerably reigned in.
The music is all used in typical Hollywood fashion; the theme song by Strings has been on air for sometime. Again, like in Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, I will desist making any further comments on it.
Though he does not give up making his heroes walk that Marlboro-advertisement inspired swagger, to sum up, I would rate Zinda as a big leap forward by Sanjay Gupta from his previous disasters. This one surely has more meat, and can be easily watched. The biggest compliment: it does not bore! Also, the running time is pretty narrow, and that helps too.
Overall: Worth a view once.
UPDATE : Also saw KALYUG – Kaushi has done a superb review and covered whatever I had to say. Please click here for the same. My overall rating is same as hers : Worth viewing
That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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That pretty much summarises the last four days. It’s not that I had some huge work to do by roaming in the city; but, cialis 40mg the curfews have resulted in shortages in essentials like vegetables and milk. Plus, of course the immense loss in business with most establishments, including restaurants, closed is a separate problem.
Personally, the biggest hit has been food and entertainment. With the maid’s arrival erratic, one day of cooking means utensils piling up. Plus, as I said earlier, what to cook is the biggest question? The quality of basic stuff like tomatoes and onions is quite off-putting. Restaurants are closed, so I have to rely on a single near-by hotel for dinners once the curfew is lifted in the evening!
Entertainment was primarily watching films – and that is impossible now! Songs continue, however!
Anyways, I will try to put up some thing better and more positive soon. Right now, the overall melancholic mood has permeated within. Meanwhile, the story progresses slowly; two last episodes are left, so that should be done during this week!
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I admit I am not too well versed in Kalpana Lajmi’s cinema, this web
and haven’t watched any of her films barring the refreshingly honest Ek Pal. My association with her is restricted to Lata Mangeshkar’s extremely eloquent ‘Dil Hoom Hoom Kare’ from Rudaali. Hence, sick
I approached Chingaari with an open mind, and to say it left me cold is a major understatement.
Chingaari is one of those B-and-C-grade films masquerading as an art film. It is a puerile and pathetic piece of cinema that has neither the content nor flow to captivate audiences. It seems Lajmi’s intention was to shock and sensationalise the audience without any care for aesthetics or form.
The story is set in a typical North Indian village, Rangpur which has a designated red light area called Lal Batti (how unimaginative!). The gullible villagers are firmly held in tight clutches of the evil head-priest Bhuvan Panda (Mithun Chakraborty), who abuses his authority for own selfish motives. He keeps them involved in meaningless religious mumbo-jumbos instigating fear in their heart to retain his superiority over them. He uses illogical rites like making a naked virgin girl sit on his lap, while he places himself over a corpse, in order to exorcise the dead man’s evil spirit! Even though he berates prostitutes, resorting to physical and verbal abuse even if they so much as touch the Goddess’ idol inadvertently, still he has no qualms in spending the nights at their place – practicing wild, kinky and sadist sex!
One such prostitute is Basanti (Sushmita Sen), who lives with her daughter Titli, and ekes out her living in that deplorable condition.
In this murky environment enters the fresh, educated and young postman Chandan Mishra (Anuj Sawhney). Like any villager postman, he not only delivers letters, but reads them out and writes for them, and in a sense he becomes a confidante, friend and mentor to them. An unstated, muted and sublime love develops between Chadan and Basanti, cemented by his affection for the latter’s fatherless daughter! He also instigates revolt against Bhuvan Panda.
No doubt the love story between the postman and the prostitute (incidentally, the film’s original title as well) is good, and could have been a classy saga of romance, sacrifice and valor. Unfortunately, Lajmi seems to have seen too many Neha Dhupia flicks of late, hence it ends up being a loud, crass and disgusting melodrama.
The narrative moves in jerks and fits, and the screenplay is shoddy. There is no continuum in the movement, and several unwanted scenes are repetitive or too lengthy for comfort; the running time is also inordinately long; looks as if the editor just did not know his job. Sequences where the prostitutes are interacting are gross. Sushmita’s introduction scene where she instigates two colleagues fighting over a customer and urges them to use words like ‘randi’ and ‘chinaal’ is horrible.
The dialogues are crappy, peppered liberally with obscenities and profanities and are written only to evoke shock value. The climax is hilarious – Sushmita goes to the village temple with her hair flying wild, drums beating and picks up a trishul and kills Bhuvan Panda – it’s straight from those forgettable mid-eighties dacoit/revenge dramas that had infested Bollywood that time!
Production value is shoddy and camera work is tacky. The music (by Adesh Srivastava) is nothing to write home (or anywhere) about.
Sushmita Sen gives a relatively good performance, though she appears too urban to pass off as a rustic prostitute convincingly. Anuj Sawhney is adequate. But Mithun Chakraborty is too tired and haggard! Ila Arun, as the red light area’s head-madame, is ok.
The film does nothing to sensitize against the prostitute’s plight; nor does it help to lay spotlight on interior
India’s woeful condition. In the end, it’s not even good cinema. This chingaari fizzles out without lighting any fire. I hope Lajmi drops the ‘neice of Guru Dutt’ tag for the time being till she returns with a more meaningful and involving film!
Overall: Avoid
Side Notes
While on prostitutes, I read the following somewhere: during the shoot of Kalyug abroad, Deepal Shaw was mistaken for a whore by another one from the tribe there! Despite liking Shaw in that film, my overall impression of her is that – to put it very bluntly – she looks like a slut! Her music videos are largely responsible for giving that image. In the write-up that I read, Shaw narrated this incident with obvious glee. I don’t know about her, but if I were in her place, I would have taken serious offence and not publicize this fact and, more importantly, do some serious introspection!
Secondly, who is that goddamn singer who has screeched ‘Aa darr ke marr’ from Darna Zaroori Hai! It’s the most irritating, grating and awful voice I have heard in recent times. If the brief given to her was to sound sexy and scary at the same time, she has got it widely wrong! Why does Ram Gopal Verma waste money and time in recording songs which no one is going to buy? Stardust (April 2006) carries a piece on Verma’s deteriorating position in the industry. Though Stardust in itself is a gossip magazine, but still some facts are true and cannot be ignored – his films (except Sarkar) have all flopped, his proteges are deserting him and his financers are distancing themselves.
Hope Darna Zaroori Hai bails him out. I liked the first part (Darna Marna Hai) and am eagerly awaiting the release of the second one now!
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
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Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
When I woke up today the curfew was on; and it will last till late evening. Yesterday, rx an aquaintance had called in to inform about it, stuff but I had not paid any heed to his warning. Rumors are as much in abundance here as there are bandhs and agitations. As stated on my main blog a few days back, curfew does not affect me as such, except that the shops are closed.
Half awake, I had trudged to the neighborhood shop to buy milk, and that is where I got the news. Being in a by-lane, the shop was open; it is basically a ‘dhaba’ but keeps stock of milk, water, cigarettes and a few other daily use stuff. Thankfully, I have some basic cooking ingredients, so will manage the food part for today!
Ironically, of all days, today I had planned to move out – pay my mobile bill, buy stuff to take back home and get a few stuff completed. I had also asked the maid to come late in the noon. For the past few days, when the situation had sort of reached a limping normalcy, I had royally procrastinated.
My new story ‘Tapish’ finds a small receptive audience on the main blog. Writing in Hindi was a little tougher than expected. First, my vocabulary is very limited; and second, typing speed was painfully slow and catching up with the running thoughts became an exercise in itself! Half the time, I would forget that ‘brilliant flash’ which would have occurred while visualising a scene. Anyways, not planning to write any more stories for a long time now, so will savor whatever comments come its way – good or bad!
Powered by Zoundry
Music That Entices!
While the nation looses control over Rahman’s frothy Rang De Basanti score, sickness
his quiet and serene Water languishes away in oblivion. I am not a Rahman fan, overweight
but his few scores have really made an impact with me. Dil Se, buy more about
Zubeidaa, Pukar, One Two Ka Four, Bombay and Lagaan are my favorites. A point to note – all the above are prior to his current phase where the stress seems to be more on beats, rhythms and sounds than tunes. So, listening to Water came as a very pleasant surprise; till the time I read somewhere that Rahman’s music for Water was scored way back in 2000.
Anyways, whenever Rahman recorded these songs, they are beautiful!
The music is very delicate, like a dew drop; as if touching it would soil its purity. At other times, it’s like a soft drizzle which sends a thrilling shiver down the spine. Instruments are used minimally. You can switch off the light, put on Water’s music, and soak yourself in sheer melodies – extremely relaxing, that’s what Water is!
My favorite number – and I heard it five times on repeat mode after the first hearing – is ‘Piya Ho’ sung by Sadhna Sargam and Sukhwinder. There is this subtle rhythm which keeps flowing in the background, and a tune which cascades in its own curves in an unhurried pace; and over this Rahman places some riveting flute pieces so softly as if he is placing an expensive crystal over rich velvet – but then, that’s what this song is – bright as a crystal, soft as velvet! And it’s the tune which holds attention and not just sounds; a strong harkback to the old era of music. Oh yes, I have to mention the chorus which trails after the mukhda; it’s like a soft breeze which ripples over the tranquil river waters! If I am allowed to make one wish on this score, I would have loved to hear Lata Mangeshkar in this number!
Continuing the same mode, but switching theme to Meera’s unfulfilled love, is ‘Naina Neer Bahaye Mujh Birhan Ka Dil Saajan Sang Jhoom Jhoom Gaaye’ – quite similar to ‘Piya Ho’ but has a distinct rhythm and melody. Once again the able Sadhna Sargam at the mic, but this time she is solo. ‘Prem toh hai gangaajal jisme vish amrit bann jaaye’ writes new lyricist Raqeeb Alam. The song encapstulates unadulterated love, alongwith it’s underlying pathos.
Sukhwinder returns, but with a trifle increased tempo in ‘Aayo re sajan sakhi’ – earlier I felt it resembled Sukhwinder’s own Kisna title song. But as the song progresses the difference is stark. In this number Sadhna Sargam joins Sukhwinder from mid-way. A lovely use of Indian instruments like santoor embellishes the song . The song is like the royal sea's tide washing over an expansive beach.
With these three songs itself, the album can be called a dizzying exponent of high-quality sweet music. But there are three more tracks remaining – like the silver vark on tasteful barfi!
This album is definitely Sukhwinder’s crowning glory. Listen to him in yet another Lord Krishna-theme-based semi-classical song Bangri marori saiyan ne meri. I love the way the tune takes a sharp upward curve at the line ‘Radha ke gal-dori’
The next exquisite track is ‘MoheShaam rang de’ – a Holi number. This is a full-fledged masti song and the heart dances as the singers throw up a vocal flourish with ‘bajale zaraa dhol zor se’. The rang-bhang ka mausam is right at our doorstep now, and this number should be right up there – and it is such a relief after Rahman’s own horrible Holi number in Mangal Pande. This time the singers are Richa Sharma, Naqeeb Alam and Surjo Bhattacharya – and they create an ocean of riotous merry making with their voices.
The last track is the famous Gandhian bhajan- Vaishnav Jan To sung by Kaushaki Chakraborty. This is a bhajan immortalized by Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition in the bumper hit album Ram Rattan Dhan Paayo. Rahman moves away a bit from the basic framework, and manages quite well overall. My bias will remain for Lataji’s version!
Yes, this is not the score that will be played at parties and discos. But the difference lies exactly there – it does not set your foot tapping, but your head swaying in its lyrical rhythm. And it makes a place permanently in the heart. This is A R Rahman’s very best in recent times.
Do grab it as soon as possible – and while you go to buy it, I will return to have another hear of ‘Piya ho’!
Overall: Not to be missed; A Must Buy
This review was written the same day I saw the film, dermatologist
which was on 4th February. But seeing the overwhelmingly positive reactions for the film didn’t have heart to publish it. Till the time I told Anubha about its existence. She reprimanded me for not putting it up and reminded me that on my blog I had complete right to write whatever I felt. True, help
perhaps I have been playing to the gallery quite a lot, visit this
and taking ‘the popular’ tag a bit too seriously than warranted. Thanks Anubha for the reality check!
Blame it on the huge expectation – but fact is I found Rang De Basanti just about ok, a different film, but just about that. Somehow it couldn’t involve me into its narration. There were too many incoherent details which left me cold – some were minor quibbles regarding Delhi’s depiction: why the hell did Sonia (Soha Ali) take Sue via Red Fort if they were going to University from Delhi Airport? There is a much shorter and convenient route! And then, that was clearly not anywhere close to Delhi University for sure! It was India Habitat Center passed off as DU!
Even though Rakeysh Mehra struggles to deploy a conventional story telling format, he is unable to fully discard the now-standard jump-cuts and fast-track editing styles; at few crucial points these neo-modern techniques crop up horrifyingly. The post-interval lathi charge scene is one prime example. Instead of gripping the audience in a tight-fist and knocking a solid punch, he shows a collage alternating between slow-motion and hazy movements with a dull song in the background. The entire sequence’s steam, whose build-up begins with Ajay Rathod’s death, dissipates away like a pressure cooker rudely taken off the burner!
The transformation of youth doesn’t come around neatly. I kept thinking of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s Swades, and how he had handled Mohan Bhargav’s transition smoothly! Here, it is erratic and abrupt. Also, in Swades the awakening is not linked to personal tragedy, making it more sublime. Here it seems more like those eighties personal vendetta film wearing a neo-modern cloak!
The story is interesting – but the climax is very shoddy: it takes away the entire thrust of the film’s message. Here, I am not talking about the defence minister’s too-easy-to-be-true murder, which can be accorded to the director’s creative license. But it’s the death of all protagonists which I could not digest. Does the maker want to tell the youth that if they have to do something for the country they will necessarily be killed? And does it really make the nation rise in protest? Except for a few shots of some students talking to NDTV, which sounded like a storm in a teacup and extremely unconvincing, the film-maker remains stunningly silent on their action’s impact. To me, their sacrifice looked futile. Plus, where did the Commandos come from? And why?
Agreed that Rakeysh Mehra wanted to draw a parallel to Bhagat Singh et al, but shouldn’t the climax have moved away to show the difference of the eras and of the youth, then and now! I feel an intelligent comparison need not be hundred percent overlapping – though the rising could be compared but the end needed much brain which was definitely not put to use. A mature writer draws parallel, brings them to a crossroad, but from there takes it to a separate and higher denouement. And this is where the film fails, and the reason why it couldn’t touch me at all.
Another fact which irked me was Sue’s character – did Mehra really have to use a foreigner to awaken youth-conscience and youth conscious? Is this some surreptitious handshake with old British ideology that ‘it is always white man’s burden’ to take care of Indians? Sorry, Mehra – an upright Indian NGO worker could have made the point more clear and driven home the fact more scathingly – and if Mehra feels that such people don’t exist, sorry he needs to open his wider!
On the plus side – the film gives ample space to every character though it could have incorporated a bit on Soha Ali and Sharman Joshi’s background/home as well.
Performance-wise the film is a topper – Soha Ali is a huge revelation especially after her wooden acting in Dil Maange More. She slips into her character’s skin effortlessly. Sharman Joshi, Kunal Kapoor and Atul Kulkarni live their part with aplomb. Siddharth, who gets maximum footage amongst the supporting cast, is a delight to watch, especially his voice modulation was impeccable (not sure if he has done the dubbing himself!). Alice Patten, with her cute night-class Hindi, is sweet and understated. Madhavan shines in his guest appearance.
But the mother of all performances is given by veteran Waheeda Rahman in her brief but strong role as Ajay’s mother. In one scene, after her son’s death, she is shown walking towards the door – her back is towards the camera, yet her entire body language, the minor tremor, the slight limp as she walks shows a seasoned actor at work! It’s a one small shot, where she is not even facing the camera – yet, she literally walks away with all accolades!
There are some smaller but solid parts – Om Puri, Kirron Kher and Anupam Kher who do their bit fabulously.
AR Rahman’s music is good in parts, though his background score was lacking – the odd sound during Jallianwala Bagh sequence was probably meant to stir hearts, but it shook the ears more! Lata Mangeshkar’s Lukka Chhupi Bahut Hui brings a lump, and that entire sequence is very well handled (though a personal grouse will remain for editing a bulk of Lataji’s portion). Of the other songs, Mohe mohe tu rang de basanti, Paathshaala and Tu bin bataye are ok. In ‘Mohe mohe’ Mehra picks up a few leaves from Yash Chopra’s films and shows flowing mustard fields and pulsating Punjab in satiated sway – given a choice, I’d prefer the tranquil pace of ‘Aisa des hai mera’ from Veer Zaara!
I understand the film is doing very well, and I have only read praise for it – perhaps, I am getting old to enjoy these ‘youthful’ films, but once again I would leave by mentioning Swades – the patriotism, the inner journey presented in that film was far superior to RDB’s graffiti-like cocktail!
Overall: Above average
Also check out: Saba's brilliant review of the same film
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
When I started writing for the Blogs, oncology I made a secret pact with myself: I will not indulge in self reflections, population health and certainly not write on my personal life and what it is happening to me. These were anecdotes, incidents and events of my life, and no one would be interested to read them. Honestly, I did not think I would be comfortable in baring my heart out ever. I preferred the other route- the fiction one, where I can seamlessly knit these occurrences into an imaginative story; and no is the wiser as to which is the truth and which is fiction out of that.
But within a week, I am here, penning my thoughts, expressions and reflections. So what made me change my heart? Today, I read one of the finest blogs and that made my thought waves tingling. This was a blog by Mr Ramesh Somasundaram, and is available at http://ramesh_somasundaram.rediffblogs.com. During the past one week, since the time I have been initiated into blogging, I have browsed a lot many of them: some good, some funny, some reflective, some empty, some stupid and some really shoddy; but this one was at once serious and funny; simple and complex, and a mixture of fiction and truth. Of course, that Mr Somasundaram writes in very lucid English helped a lot. I have this writing bug in me which gets activated every time I read a good piece of writing. It has happened earlier also; and at the cost of sounding immodest, I must say, that some of the stories that I have written have been quite good. Even I enjoyed reading them after a year or so, despite knowing each and every twist of the tale. But since a bright story idea eluded my poor brain, and the bug continued its insistent persistence, I decided to venture into an area which I had till now resolutely avoided. What the hell, I have also lived a full and enriching 31 years of life on this lonely( or is it not?) planet , and I have also gone through many bitter-sweet moments of upheavals and exhilirations that I think I should start sharing and not bottling them up in my 5’11” frame!!
Its said that plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Hence, I have kept the title of this blog similar to one that Mr Somasundaram does, as also the design of the blog and the first line of this blog, which is nothing but a paraphrase of a sentence which Mr Sundaram had used in one of its blogs.
I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try. Perhaps, someday the rediff management will also find it appropriate enough to feature in the “Sizzling Blogs” section, though, to be honest, their criteria for selection bewilders me no end
[This was my first post on my Rediff blog; posting it for nostalgic sake again with same date stamp!]
[edited and posted with ecto]
All relationships come with an expiry date
If I am not mistaken, viagra 100mg
this is a line that I had read in one of the interviews of Pooja Bhatt. Even if it’s not her original quote, rehabilitation
or even if she did not say it, somewhere, and somehow, I have always attributed this line to her. I am not too fond of Pooja Bhatt as an actor, but I am definitely enamored by her spunky, sprightly and absolutely sensational quotes and interviews that she gives. Whether she means them, or they are said only for effect, I cannot comment, but I have always found them meaningful and truthful; to put it crudely, she catches life’s morality from the balls.
I come back again to Mr. Ramesh Somasundaram’s blog*. In that he has questioned the mysteries of relationships in a wonderfully eloquent manner. I have gone through a few very deep but failed relationships and have not been able to unravel the mystery even by one layer of the complexities that wrap them.
But apart from the well-stated thoughts mentioned in the blog, I would like to add that if we enter each relationship with the above maxim in mind we could at least reduce the pain that accompanies most relationships, especially when they get over.
Whether we grow apart, or one of the partner dies a relationship does come back with an indelibly stamped expiry date. And like all products, if we attempt to use it after that “expiry date†we will be hurt, sad and immensely ill.
In Paap (The Sin), Pooja Bhatt’s latest film, which she has also directed, there is beautiful verbal debate between the heroine’s (Kaya) father and her lover. The father wants Kaya to renounce the world, join a monastery, because he wants to protect her from the pain of any worldly relationships going wrong; hence he wants her to forsake all such earthly desires and take the path of God. The lover retorts that we cannot stop smiling for fear of the crying; we cannot stop living for the fear of dying; we cannot stop forming relationships for the fear of losing. In fact, the desire for renouncing all desires is also just another desire. Then why should that desire be considered holy and the love that he feels for Kaya be termed as “sin�
In another scene, the hero tells the heroine that once he leaves, he will not even look back and think about her; he wants to spend a lifetime with her; but not a lifetime with her memories and brooding over it.
This film merely asserts the maxim that all relationships come with an expiry date- so we should enjoy it while it lasts and move on when they end.
Carcasses, whether of humans, animals or emotions, always stink.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[*Romesh Somasundaram stopped blogging after a few months]
[re-posted with ecto]
Nestled within lush verdant hills of Himachal Pradesh, global burden of disease
Kasauli is a quaint little hill cantonment, ailment
built 11kms off the Main Shimla Highway, and just a two-hour drive from Chandigarh, the nearest metropolitan city.
My acquaintance with Kasauli began when I was in the tenth standard. A classmate of mine was so taken up by this station that he would regularly keep talking about it. Since, I had spent a large chunk of my childhood abroad, due to my father’s postings, I was quite ignorant of the beauties of nature present in India itself. This friend of mine gave such vivid descriptions of the place that the name Kasauli just seeped into my sub-consciousness unknowingly.
Years later, when we were finally settled in Delhi, I started exploring the hill towns of the country. Mountains have always fascinated me, and hence, it was quite evident that I should start my Discovery India with the Himalayas only. In college, whenever we decided to go out for holidays the obvious names that cropped up were Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital or Manali. Somehow, Kasauli always got vetoed.
So during a six-year period starting from college and ending with my first job, I visited all the places mentioned above (barring Nainital; but added Mt Abu and Mahabaleshwar to my ever-growing list of visited hill stations). But it rankled me no end as to why Kasauli never featured in any one’s shortlist.
Finally, when I had taken up my second job, the chance came. A couple of friends had shifted base to their hometown Chandigarh. Hence, when I got an elongated weekend due to some God-send (literally, too) consecutive holidays on account of Ram Navami etc. This time, around, I did not let either of the two veto me out; and since, they were tight on the schedules (as the same holidays were not there in Chandigarh), they agreed for a brief two-day tour to Kasauli.
To say that I was bowled over by Kasauli would be a gross understatement. It is beautiful, untouched and extremely quiet. The entire hill station is covered over two fork-like roads, the Upper and Lower Mall, which conjoin together in a neat, small central place. The town is untouched by the crass hands of commercialization. The crowd is minimal, and consequently, the cleanliness and the quietitude are of empyreal proportions.
As a hill station, Kasauli does not offer anything dramatic in terms of sight seeing, except for a place called Monkey Point. This is a hillock, on the outskirts of the town, next to the Air Force Station. It is believed that when Lord Hanuman was returning to Lanka after procuring the Sanjivini Booti for the slain Laxmana, his feet touched this hillock. Hence, there is a small Hanuman temple at the top of the hill. After an arduous climb, as one reaches the top, the sight and the view from there is simply enthralling. Surrounded by feral mountains (even the Shimla hills are visible from here), this was truly what heaven would look like. I could almost jump and touch the clouds from here, as the cool winds playfully teased me.
Another beautiful place is what the locals have termed as “Lover’s Pointâ€. It’s a small dirt track that embraces a small hillock like a lover hugging his beloved. From here one gets a vantage view of the city of Chandigarh; and at night time, from here, Chandigarh, with its symmetrical roads and lights, looks like a gargantuan runway placed by the divine for its landing.
Apart from these two Kasauli does not offer much in terms of tourist attraction.
Let me add a word of warning: this place is certainly not meant for those who rush to the hill-stations but expect the same luxuries, noise and liveliness. In fact, on my second visit I was accompanied by a friend who was more worried that he could not get Kingfisher Beer or a proper “Daal Makhaniâ€, and ultimately found the place boring and dull.
What Kasauli offers is not a tangible source of enjoyment, but a feeling that has to be experienced by the soul, and not by the senses. The walks on the Malls, that stretch into the wilderness was my favorite activity there. You can hear each rustle of the leaves, each note of the birds, each tune of the winds, each song of the all pervading, and all encompassing silence. It is blissful peace that infuses into every pore of the body, soothing and caressing the frayed nerves tattered by the noisy city life. I sat for hours on the mountainside, looking at the green valleys below, with the sunshine stroking my distraught spirit like a mother cuddling its young one into a deep satisfying and secure sleep.
Thankfully, the place has not been marauded by the film industry also. Barring Maya Memsaab ( the Deepa Sahi starrer that had five soulful Lata Mangeshkar songs) I do not recall any other film being shot there. Even the locals talk about the shooting of the film and are obviously proud to boast of having met Shahrukh Khan, though at the time of the shooting the film he was not the star that he is now.
I look forward to visiting the place again very soon.
[This post was originally written in my older blog]
[Since then, I have not been able to go to Kasauli- DJ, April 2006]
[Reposted with ecto]
The state of Rajasthan presents a delightful collage of vibrant colors. From the greens of Bharatpur to the pink of Jaipur to the ochre of the deserts, help
this state should be nominated as God’s own palette.
An opportunity to traverse a small slice of this rustic and splendid state presented to me yesterday. Traveling in the sturdy Ford Endeavor, we were three of us, who started the tour from Behror, a small, mid-way village between Delhi and Jaipur. From there on, we broke off civilization and the highway to course our way through ill-constructed and bumpy road towards Alwar, a town famous for its ‘maava’, a milk product.
The rains have finally opened their abundant baggage on the thirsty fields, which sway with fulsome pleasure in their dark greenery. The dotted road that cuts through the greens has not seen a proper renovation in years. Instead, the municipal corporation has fixed it in patches, resembling a beggar’s tattered dress, with black, fresh tar, sewn over the broken areas.
Like teenager’s acne, Alwar suddenly erupts out of the highway (or whatever that patchy road was). Resembling any other small town on important roots, this town also has a string of tyre, automotive spare parts and tractor shops. Shops line up like errant and ill-disciplined school children in an assembly hall, forming an irregular line. They are all small, with tin boards proclaiming their trade and shuttered. Some enterprising brand names have wormed their way in here, obviously, sensing the potential of C-class cities. We bump our way through the entire stretch of the town, passing through a couple of ‘important’ squares, and roundabouts. One such, turning to the left, leads us to the railway station, beyond which is a small outskirts village of Manduska, our object of visit here.
Manduska is much smaller than Alwar, not exactly a typical village, like Tatarpur, which we had crossed just before entering Alwar. Dusty roads, tiny shops, rickshaws, mud and people in penury greet us here.
In Rajasthan, history is there on your face, assertive and dominant. One just cannot ignore it, for the entire landscape is punctuated with forts and castles- some taken care of by the government (or the surviving generations of the royalty), others left to perish with their arcane tales buried between the solid rocks. One can only guess and imagine the purpose of a lone structure standing desolately overlooking the sprawling highway. The mountains few and far between (another of nature’s mysterious surprises of this land) are brown and dusty and dry and bear the burdens of age and barrenness. Again, they are not consistent, with their presence coming in spurts and fits. Brown, ochre and yellow are the most dominant colors of this bucolic terrain.
After Alwar, our journey brought us to many such villages, no need to list all of them- of these the most prominent was Deeg, which again has a fort, and an accompanying lake. Deeg, unfortunately, apart from its past splendor, has a more recent and current story of power, murder and conceit running through its veins. Deeg runs through a part rocky, part sandy arterial narrow road, concealing much more behind those tin-roofed kiosks and shops.
Our last stop on this route is Bharatpur- famous and well identified on the tourist map for its Bird Sanctuary. But before we reached there we had a funny misfortune. Having not taken lunch en route, we were famished by late afternoon. An alluring signboard of a sort of resort beckoned us in its inviting bright brown colors. It was two kilometers from the highway, on a small dirt track, that ended up in a small mud village, with a kind of fort looming ominously over it. The entrance to the fort was through a steep climb; even the otherwise healthy Endeavor heaved through the gradient. The fort was indeed very ominous, made of solid stone, and a huge iron gate. It looked a bit too run down to be a inhabited, thought the signboard had clearly proclaimed it to be a resort. On inspection, and our call, a dour waiter produced itself. Lunch milega, we asked expectantly. His incredulous reply was, sorry; no…you do not have a booking for lunch. With our jaws dropped, we stared at him in dumb incredulity. Booking? For Lunch? Amazing, no!
A peep into the fort confirmed our worst fears…we had pushed our luck a bit too far. The place was in ruins; I doubt any one ever came there. The setting was perfect for a shoot of a horror film.
And now on to Bharatpur…Due to the presence of the sanctuary several hotels have sprung up around it to cater to the tourist who would like to stay there overnight (Otherwise, most prefer to make it a day trip, since its 180 kms from Jaipur and only 58 kms from Agra). As in all such tourist destinations, these hotels come in all sizes and shapes and with exotic names like Bird’s Inn, Crane Crib and Peacock Hotel, etc (obviously keeping in mind the sanctuary).
During our search for a suitable place to spend the night there, we stumble upon the most unbelievable, the most unusual and the most pathetic sights of all times- at least none of us could believe our eyes, and none of us had seen it before this day…on the road to Jaipur, just a few kilometers away from the sanctuary, there is actually an open-air brothel! A few meters are lined up with huts and shanties, on both sides, and girls stand on the roadside inviting customers. The girls are decked up in loud and vulgar dresses (a cheap red color being the most favorite), with heavy red lipstick, chalky powder on the face, and a sweet, alluring but false smile on their lips, waving and calling the passing cars. Worse, this seems to be their acknowledged way of living, for routine life goes on around them as usual- old men are sitting on the cots, sleeping (drunk?) and elderly women are chatting or making dinner, or filling water, or removing lice from another’s hair; in short, remove the girls standing there, it is just another a mini-slum that one can even see in the cities now on small roadsides or alleys. It is open prostitution with a stamp of approval from their immediate society. I pity the plight of the girls born in this society (some do not look any older than thirteen years), sucked into this obscene trade for no fault of theirs, and also getting a sanction for doing so by what seemed to be their own family and relatives. If this is real India, then it certainly is not shining. I believe these girls sell their flesh for as low as five hundred rupees.
As we cross the place, my eye catches hold of an obviously more elderly lady sitting on a cot, but also in that same bright red make up. Age and men have already done their rampage on her. Yet, she invites, with her saree pallu dropped down in a futile attempt to look more sexy…but its her eyes that tell all: desperation (to get a client), hope (to get some money) and prayer (to sleep with a tummy full) all rolled together and pasted on her frustratingly facile façade. Our eyes meet, and she makes one last attempt, before I move forward in the car; I have turn back in my seat to see her; her eyes have drooped in sadness…was that a sigh that escaped her horrifyingly red lips?
(We stayed the night in Bharatpur; the next day we left for Jaipur, stopping midway at a few other villages and towns like Dausa, Sikandara- famous for its fine handiwork on soft stone- and Mahua. This journey was quite similar to the one described above, as the landscape did not change much. The Bharatpur-Jaipur highway is no better, and it was a bumpy ride again. On our way, also saw two Jackie Chan films on the VCD of the Endeavor: Thunderbolt and Spanish Connection. While the former was a bit too much of action for me to digest, the latter was quite interesting and resembled those good old sixties movies of Bollywood- with just the right dose of action, and the requisite dash of comedy and romance. Apart from this, the driver was considerate enough to play some beautiful Lata Mangeshkar numbers).
I don’t know how far it is true, malady but I speak from my personal experience – separating a man from his moustaches is quite an impossible task. Hrishikesh Mukherjee built an entire comedy revolving around mouches – remember Golmaal? And Utpal Dutt’s indignant stand – munch nahin toh mard nahin! I sport one. But unlike Utpal Dutt in the film, physician I do not twirl any morality into them; but yes, it seems without them I would be not complete.
Love for moustaches is not hereditary. Even if it is, then I am that perfect exception which always exists in every theory. My father does not sport one, neither did my grandfathers (both sides), none of my mamas, and not my chachas. Yet, as far as I recall I always wanted to have one. I am not sure where the influence came from.
Once the down was established, I never had the courage to remove it. Earlier my mother would often jokingly ask me to remove it, at least to see how I look clean-shaven. But the very thought would send a cold shiver down my spine. The only time I shaved it off was way back in college – that entire week I felt I was roaming naked. After that, I have never attempted. Plus, Lamhe released, and I viewed Anil Kapoor’s stiff upper lip in the first half, painfully aware at his obvious discomfort – while viewing the film, I patted my mouche lovingly – no baby, I am not murdering you ever! Few years later, King Uncle came. There was an entire parody based on Anu Aggarwal trying to get Jackie to trim off his weirdly shaped mouche. Even though I don’t have that horrendous shape, still I payed close attention to the song.
Just in case the girls are feeling left out, let me say it’s quite similar to having your long hair chopped off. I remember the pangs my sister went through when she went in for a new, short hair-style. That furthered my resolve – I wouldn’t subject myself to this mental agony!
Years passed, and off and on I did get the arrant urge off and on to do something drastic; but always controlled these wild thoughts. During these years, I would look with envy and awe at people who could regularly experiment with their face. My elder brother-in-law is one such person – he has tried everything: mustaches, clean-shaven, French beard, full beard – in short, the full works! My younger brother-in-law deserted his mouche, and never returned back to it. His reasoning – too much white hair peeping out there!
On my part I just saw them in mute admiration for their guts, secretly hoping some day I will be brave enough. The maximum I did was to trim off the thick eighties South Indian-film-hero-style bushy crop to a sophisticated slim one; sometimes using the scissor to such effect that it is barely visible. But never went full monty over my upper lip! Thankfully, white hairs (which are quite in abundance over the scalp) have not made their detrimental foray into my mouche!
Before coming to Nepal I had thought of doing so. It’s much easier if you go with a new look to a new place; at least, no one will walk up to you and peer into your face as if you are some exotic animal just escaped from the zoo! But, no – I couldn’t bring myself to it!
Today morning, while shaving, I had that animalistic strong urge again to wipe off the face clean. But as ever, in some innate defence mechanism, the heart beat shot up, the hand trembled, the mouth went dry and the razor looked menacingly but couldn’t complete its act. Before this primeval instinct betrayed me, hastily I moved away from the wash-basin.
But yes, someday I am going to do get over this fear. Also, these days clean-shaven look seems to be in-fashion. When I was growing up, it was the other way round. So, I guess I should be up-to-date with times. Will keep you and this blog posted the day I do ‘the act’!
[As of now, done nothing with the mouche- DJ, April ’06]
[re-posted with ecto]
Shifting back is a tedious process. While coming here things were easy. Initially, ed there were a series of India-visits and I got all the stuff I required slowly and steadily. Plus, over the months I purchased other useful items here. But going back, means packing them all up in one single go. Thankfully, since the decision was taken I had taken few stuff back last time. However, I realise now that the ‘few’ stuff was precisely that only – few! A large bulk remained, and I am at my wits ends getting them all packed or disposing them off.
Employing a packing agency is almost impossible at this short a notice. In any case, I don’t have that many things which would justify employing one. One more issue is that though the agitation has ceased, there is still a districts-wide blockade by Maoists, so I can never be sure when my goods will reach if I send them through road using a packing agent.
Worse, the nineteen-days agitation/curfews meant that I couldn’t move around to complete pending jobs. Some of them were crucial, and involved monetary refunds – mobile connection , internet connection, gas etc. It all opened up yesterday, and I am buried under an avalanche of things to complete. To add to the troubles, the lap-top will also go very shortly, and I am struggling to get personal files out from there, which include a mammoth 2 GB worth of songs, some of them rare Lata Mangeshkar numbers. Woefully, the CD drive has gone for a toss and I can’t store them on discs. I have to find ways of taking them out, and fast at that! Any good suggestion is most welcome!
If that wasn’t enough, then I suddenly got a call from my organisation to return two days earlier, which catapulted the entire process into a dizzying orbit of confusion.
Today’s horoscope in The Himalayan Times seems uncannily true:
A whirlwind surrounds you. You find that plans change. A new friend could appear on the scene. You could be delighted by what a simple call draws. Socialize, reach out for others. Tonight: Meet a friend!
I don’t know about the last part, since the day has yet to unfold completely. But the first two sentences are bang on. Hell, why didn’t I pay attention to these horoscopes earlier!
Anyways, I shall take leave now. For those visiting from previous Random Expressions, warm welcome; for new readers, welcome aboard! This is not a formal launch as yet. That I will do only when I am back in India.
By the time you read this, cheap I will be flying over mighty Himalayas to reach my homeland. Thanks to the facility on WordPress to change the date/time stamp, plague I have deliberately kept this post dated 28th April 2006 – the day I bade farewell to Nepal. I will not get time in the morning to post anything.
I am quite confused as to how to write this post. The past few days have been hectic, and I haven’t had time to assimilate my thoughts. I had planned to write a comprehensive post covering key aspects of my stay here, but I think that one will have to wait.Â
Right now, emotions are strong, and I will allow myself to immerse in them.
For me, leaving a country/city/home is not new. I have been doing it since I was eleven month’s old, courtesy my father’s transferable job. Yet, everytime there is always a surge of feelings which refuse to be categorized - most are expected ones like sorrow (at leaving a place, a city, a house where time is spent), happiness (at going back to parents) and nervousness (involving packing), but some are uncharacteristic, of which I will mention one : regret! Regret that I could have done something more substantial here, something more concrete and useful! There is a uncanny thought running in my mind that I am leaving something incomplete here! Well, I will leave it at that because try as much as I want to I am unable to put the thoughts into word correctly here; maybe later when I have more time, I will try to unravel this one in detail!
It’s the reactions of the people I was associated with that has caught me by absolute surprise. All along, I had maintained a friendly but distanced and professional relationship with them. Suddenly, I have been inundated by overwhelmingly sweet mails/calls/gifts; and that has left an irrepressible lump in my throat.
Seeing this, somewhere, somehow I feel I have succeeded as a human being.
To end my stay here, like a sumptuous dessert after a fulfilling meal, I had the good chance of meeting a blogger. However, the meet details will have to be wait for now.
Right now, let me just say – Farewell Nepal , and I hope peace reigns here soon; Will miss you terribly, and yes be ready to welcome me if I come here again 🙂
By the time you read this, cheap I will be flying over mighty Himalayas to reach my homeland. Thanks to the facility on WordPress to change the date/time stamp, plague I have deliberately kept this post dated 28th April 2006 – the day I bade farewell to Nepal. I will not get time in the morning to post anything.
I am quite confused as to how to write this post. The past few days have been hectic, and I haven’t had time to assimilate my thoughts. I had planned to write a comprehensive post covering key aspects of my stay here, but I think that one will have to wait.Â
Right now, emotions are strong, and I will allow myself to immerse in them.
For me, leaving a country/city/home is not new. I have been doing it since I was eleven month’s old, courtesy my father’s transferable job. Yet, everytime there is always a surge of feelings which refuse to be categorized - most are expected ones like sorrow (at leaving a place, a city, a house where time is spent), happiness (at going back to parents) and nervousness (involving packing), but some are uncharacteristic, of which I will mention one : regret! Regret that I could have done something more substantial here, something more concrete and useful! There is a uncanny thought running in my mind that I am leaving something incomplete here! Well, I will leave it at that because try as much as I want to I am unable to put the thoughts into word correctly here; maybe later when I have more time, I will try to unravel this one in detail!
It’s the reactions of the people I was associated with that has caught me by absolute surprise. All along, I had maintained a friendly but distanced and professional relationship with them. Suddenly, I have been inundated by overwhelmingly sweet mails/calls/gifts; and that has left an irrepressible lump in my throat.
Seeing this, somewhere, somehow I feel I have succeeded as a human being.
To end my stay here, like a sumptuous dessert after a fulfilling meal, I had the good chance of meeting a blogger. However, the meet details will have to be wait for now.
Right now, let me just say – Farewell Nepal , and I hope peace reigns here soon; Will miss you terribly, and yes be ready to welcome me if I come here again 🙂
Suddenly it all went topsy-turvy.
Coming back home should have been easy, sick and comfortable. And that’s what I had thought too. Till the time I unpacked my bags here, and realized that nineteen months is quite a long time for new routines to settle in, which I weren’t aware of, or had missed during my brief two-three days visit every month. These changes, although subtle, can be quite irritating.
Also, I had myself got used to the carefree ways of living alone, so getting back into the routine groove took some time. To add to the woes, my laptop went away with the old job. Hence, I was technologically a bit crippled. Getting a new PC, and then an internet connection was a tedious process, made more tedious with the amount of options available, making me wonder whether it was better to live in a place where choices were limited?
Anyway, I shall skip the details here. As also, will skip the lament about Delhi’s awful temperatures! It’s an annual recurrence, and each year seems more ‘tough’ than the previous ones; I am pretty tired of hearing ‘par picchle saal itni garmi nahi thi…’ when the fact is every year has its own share of ‘hottest’ days. Amusingly, the same thing is said in winters with the season changed in the above sentence!
I am still struggling in getting ‘settled’, though with an internet connection now, I feel much at home!
With this post, I also formally launch the site, and will be now onwards regular in posting here! Keep reading!
I am not really a news freak; at the most, refractionist I view the various news channels (and there seem to be quite a lot of them!) with nothing more than a perfunctory interest, condom stopping at them just long enough to catch the headlines. Beyond this, epilepsy their utility seems suspect. At times, they look idiots pretending to be intellectuals.
This sudden deluge of news is unbalancing, especially since I have lived without TV for long.
Even the size of newspapers is shocking. In Kathmandu, leading English dailies like Himalayan Times were at the most 12-16 pages, while Kathmandu Post finished in 6 pages; no supplements, no add-ons! In Delhi, the newspapers seem to be more weight-lifting instruments than reading materials!
Electricity Shortage Coverage
Delhi’s electricity woes are quite legendary. Hence, I didn’t find it very odd that despite privatization the situation is only marginally better, but overall quite status quo as before. Hence, I found it very funny the way all channels went ad nauseum about the power shortage in the past few days. Funnier sights were the way they interviewed some citizens, and collected a small crowd together clucking their tongues and grumbling about the power situation. You had this fifty plus gentleman with a serious face cribbing about For all you know, that person would have literally grown up without electricity in his childhood; I am sure the situation is much better than that now! There was a young yuppy-ish father lamenting on loss of study time for children, while two precocious kids smiled gleefully into the camera, not really looking that concerned about missed studies! Another lady came on, more content that she was on camera, than making any serious point about power generation.
The entire sequence wore a grotesquely comic look, and gave a farcical effect –an attempt at making serious news out of nothing! Surprisingly, there was no soundbyte from the power company honchos or government powers-that-be, which could have somewhat added value to the show. Overall I fail to understand the purpose of creating such a program- there is power shortage, inform it and move on; what was the point of creating a masquerade that served no better purpose other than probably making those who came on-screen call up their friends and relatives to boast that ‘they came on TV’!
That was one instance. The other was obviously the detailed coverage of Pramod Mahajan. This was kind of given in today’s world. Celebrity sickness and death have become the nation’s entertainment. However, it all depends on the celebrity and the way he/she choses to die!
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Celebrity Deaths
Two celebrity deaths in a week’s span were shocking. But it’s the print media’s coverage of both that left me extremely cold (I will only mention print media here, as I skipped the television channels). While Pramod Mahajan got full front page space, music maestro Naushad’s demise was relegated to small column corners.
This only led me to think on two aspects – a) are we really a nation crazed and obsessed with politicians, politics and power, while finer things like arts/artistic talent are relegated to sidelines? b) Or, are we so given to sensationalism that a normal death hardly matters to anyone, even if the person involved is someone of Naushad’s stature!
Following is a letter I shot off to Hindustan Times (and published today; print edition):
Pramod Mahajan’s family has suffered a great deal but as a politician he didn’t do much for the average citizen. On the other hand, Naushad’s music has charmed millions down the ages and continues to entertain. If the media reports on the basis of a person’s influence on people is to be taken, then surely Naushad’s death should have been given at least half as much space as was devoted to politican Mahajan?
Particularly galling was the fact that responsible newspapers like Times of India got their facts completely wrong – Pakeezah was not Naushad’s score! To put it up as a choice on their daily vote was downright pathetic. Pakeezah’s major portion of music is by Ghulam Mohammad, and Naushad Saab only did the background score and one ‘tarana’ after Mohammad’s death.
More likely, the difference in the coverage by newspapers lies in the third option: it’s the “age of the present†– ‘chadte sooraj ko pranaam karna’ is a famous saying in Hindi. And Naushad Saab was definitely not at his prime when he died. In this jet-age where a two month old song becomes eligible to be featured in ‘bhooli bisre geet’ program, Naushad was a relic from a forgotten era. Many youngsters would not even know his name, though they might dance to a remix from his ouvre.
Perhaps, it’s time to think and stop a while that in our race to move ahead, in this mad rush to be on the top, we are forgetting a lot of our past – be it the freedom fighters, or the artistes, or more near us, our grandparents/elders! Wasn’t Rang De Basanti really trying to say this?
I will not condone the way actor Rajkumar’s fans went berserk, bringing the entire city to a complete halt. That was the other extreme.
I am sure there is a middle path that will honor the legend adequately, as well as keep the news diarrhea in check!
Last night Zee aired The Hero – Love Story of A Spy ; the film was a box office dud, heart but somehow I had enjoyed it at that time. Watching it again was equally interesting. This was the review I had written to send to Filmfare at that time.
With a song on his lips, viagra 100mg power in his biceps, viagra punch in his voice, here comes our dashing, daring and dynamic hero. He changes his appearance faster than a chameleon, crosses the LOC single-handedly to save his beloved, preaches about nuclear bombs, and wins the hearts of the masses with his charms.Â
With his penchant for Sunny Deol, Pakistan-bashing and climaxes in fast moving trains, Anil Sharma returns with his latest patriotic saga, titled, very aptly- The Hero. The sub-title (Love Story of A Spy) is a misnomer, but then, Gadar (Sharma’s previous big hit) had a ‘love story’ in its name, so we can assume it was added for superstitious benefits. Else, the love story in the film is even less loose than Pakistan’s reason for claiming Kashmir!!!
The story is about Arun Khanna, a RAW spy, who has only one mission in life: to expose ISI Chief Isaaq Khan (Amrish Puri) and his obnoxious plan of handing over nuclear bomb to the Kashmir jehadis. On one such mission to Kashmir, he falls in love with a pretty village belle (Priety Zinta) but loses her due to the evil designs of Khan saab and his coterie. Thereafter, he is back to his mission, exposes Isaaq Khan and finds his beloved back. The film is a potent and vital blend of James Bond’s chutzpah with a dollop of Mission Impossible-like brazenness, laced with just a tinge of emotional sheen of our very own Bollywood. And all this wrapped in a shimmering package of color and charisma.Â
Writer Shaktiman must be commended for penning a script that does not tire one bit- it’s a high-speed neck-breaking ride through the avalanches of Kashmir, to the battle in the jungles, to the scientific maze of a nuclear bomb factory to the ultimate orgasmic-like blowing up of the beautiful engagement-set climaxing with a thrilling, chilling climax in a stark red train against virgin white snow!! Honest, its breathtaking….jhoot bole jo use kaat khaaye bichhua.Â
Priety Zinta gives an honest and heartwarming performance as Reshma, the Kashmiri belle. Priyanka Chopra is wasted in a brief cameo, though she shows some bright sparks in her debut. Amrish Puri regurgitates his Gadar performance (anyway, in how many ways can he be a big bad Pakistani). And what to say of Rajat Bedi, the poor guy came to be a hero. In The Hero is relegated as the villain’s sidekick. Â
And finally, Sunny Deol- he is the Hero– definitive, decisive and dramatic. He proves that he is the men among all the heroes around- the role fits him like a hand in glove- no loose wrinkle anywhere, no open space left anywhere.Â
Uttam Singh’s music is adequate (in any case the songs are sensibly used as an aid to the background score) and the song “Dil mein hai pyaar teraâ€* has the making of a superhit number. The cinematography is bright and dazzling, the editing crisp and crackling, the dialogues pithy and sizzling.Â
Anil Sharma’s direction is full of élan. Though there are some obvious glitches (how can an ISI chief just go to America to catch hold of one man, that too without full precaution?) and some avoidable clichés (the muffler with the initial engraved getting lost and being found by the woe-be-gone heroine was more kitsch than cliché!!!!), still Sharma manages to hold the entire show together in one whole watch able yarn. Yes, The Hero is a mega carnival show- bright, luminous and large-than-life.
Watch it, enjoy it and forget it!!!!
*The song like the film didnt set the charts on fire; personally, I feel its a wonderful composition and deserved to be a hit!
Last night Zee aired The Hero – Love Story of A Spy ; the film was a box office dud, heart but somehow I had enjoyed it at that time. Watching it again was equally interesting. This was the review I had written to send to Filmfare at that time.
With a song on his lips, viagra 100mg power in his biceps, viagra punch in his voice, here comes our dashing, daring and dynamic hero. He changes his appearance faster than a chameleon, crosses the LOC single-handedly to save his beloved, preaches about nuclear bombs, and wins the hearts of the masses with his charms.Â
With his penchant for Sunny Deol, Pakistan-bashing and climaxes in fast moving trains, Anil Sharma returns with his latest patriotic saga, titled, very aptly- The Hero. The sub-title (Love Story of A Spy) is a misnomer, but then, Gadar (Sharma’s previous big hit) had a ‘love story’ in its name, so we can assume it was added for superstitious benefits. Else, the love story in the film is even less loose than Pakistan’s reason for claiming Kashmir!!!
The story is about Arun Khanna, a RAW spy, who has only one mission in life: to expose ISI Chief Isaaq Khan (Amrish Puri) and his obnoxious plan of handing over nuclear bomb to the Kashmir jehadis. On one such mission to Kashmir, he falls in love with a pretty village belle (Priety Zinta) but loses her due to the evil designs of Khan saab and his coterie. Thereafter, he is back to his mission, exposes Isaaq Khan and finds his beloved back. The film is a potent and vital blend of James Bond’s chutzpah with a dollop of Mission Impossible-like brazenness, laced with just a tinge of emotional sheen of our very own Bollywood. And all this wrapped in a shimmering package of color and charisma.Â
Writer Shaktiman must be commended for penning a script that does not tire one bit- it’s a high-speed neck-breaking ride through the avalanches of Kashmir, to the battle in the jungles, to the scientific maze of a nuclear bomb factory to the ultimate orgasmic-like blowing up of the beautiful engagement-set climaxing with a thrilling, chilling climax in a stark red train against virgin white snow!! Honest, its breathtaking….jhoot bole jo use kaat khaaye bichhua.Â
Priety Zinta gives an honest and heartwarming performance as Reshma, the Kashmiri belle. Priyanka Chopra is wasted in a brief cameo, though she shows some bright sparks in her debut. Amrish Puri regurgitates his Gadar performance (anyway, in how many ways can he be a big bad Pakistani). And what to say of Rajat Bedi, the poor guy came to be a hero. In The Hero is relegated as the villain’s sidekick. Â
And finally, Sunny Deol- he is the Hero– definitive, decisive and dramatic. He proves that he is the men among all the heroes around- the role fits him like a hand in glove- no loose wrinkle anywhere, no open space left anywhere.Â
Uttam Singh’s music is adequate (in any case the songs are sensibly used as an aid to the background score) and the song “Dil mein hai pyaar teraâ€* has the making of a superhit number. The cinematography is bright and dazzling, the editing crisp and crackling, the dialogues pithy and sizzling.Â
Anil Sharma’s direction is full of élan. Though there are some obvious glitches (how can an ISI chief just go to America to catch hold of one man, that too without full precaution?) and some avoidable clichés (the muffler with the initial engraved getting lost and being found by the woe-be-gone heroine was more kitsch than cliché!!!!), still Sharma manages to hold the entire show together in one whole watch able yarn. Yes, The Hero is a mega carnival show- bright, luminous and large-than-life.
Watch it, enjoy it and forget it!!!!
*The song like the film didnt set the charts on fire; personally, I feel its a wonderful composition and deserved to be a hit!
Film Review
I like Abbas Mustan, order
the film industry’s sole director duo. Generally they pick up a foreign idea, oncologist
indianize it, and garnish it with good music, add a dash of comedy and serve a slickly packaged dish. Khiladi, Baazigar, Chori Chori Chupke Chupke, Aitraz, Ajnabee, Badshah and Humraaz are some of their good movies. With their brother Hussain Burmawallah at the editing table, Abbas Mustan’s films always have a smooth narrative flow.Â
Having grown up on a staple of Agatha Christies, Hindi films’ murder mysteries always leave me unfulfilled. So in that respect 36 China Town had a tough standard to live upto. But if for a moment we leave Christie-comparison aside and view 36 China Town individually as a film, it is definitely entertaining, and all above mentioned standard Abbas-Mustan ingredients are present.Â
The story is simple – A rich casino owner Sonia (Isha Koppikar) is murdered on the day she was to receive her lost baby son. The suspects include – a playboy Rocky (Upen Patel), a compulsive gambler  Natwar (Paresh Rawal), his wife Gracy (Payal Rohatgi), another gambler couple (Johny Lever and Dilnaz), a struggling actor Raj (Shahid Kapur) and Priya (Kareena Kapoor) – the last two were bringing back the lost child. There are other peripheral characters which also add to the suspense – a drunkard (Raj Zutshie), a servant couple and a lawyer (Vivek Vaswani). The inspector (Akshaye Khanna) solves the case.Â
The film has a good pace after the initial half hour; the directors falter miserably in that section. They wanted to establish events happening simultaneously but at different cities; I am sure they could have found a better means to do so. Also, Upen Patel’s introductory footage is boring and unnecessary. Tanushree Dutta-Shahid’s ‘item’ song is a huge speed breaker especially since it comes minutes after the hit ‘Aa aa ashiqui’ song; two songs at such short interval in a thriller is a strict no-no. Wonder why they retained it in the final product? Another song that could have been given the axe is “24-7 I think of youâ€.
There are a few glitches. But the biggest of them all is that Sonia is shown to be this extremely rich heiress living in a gargantuan mansion – but how come there are no gatekeepers at all to guard the palace? And, it really takes more than suspension of disbelief to imagine that Isha’s dead body could fit into that tiny suitcase – though must say, the entire comedy track revolving that suitcase is hilarious!
Amongst the performers, Akshaye Khanna outshines them all; he appears after the interval, and with an author-backed role and a charismatic performance he sweeps away the film.Â
Shahid and Kareena provide colorful glamour and are ok. The supporting casts are all talented ones and they do not let the audience down. I am sure the ladies will love Upen Patel; for me he came across as a male version of ‘behenji turned mod’; I believe his voice has been dubbed; he should keep his mouth closed anyways! Acting wise he didn’t have to try too hard; the role was tailor made for him!Â
The music by current hit-machine Himesh Reshammiya is storming the charts – and admittedly “Aa aa ashiqui†is foot tapping, catchy and picturised wonderfully. Other good songs are “Rock your body†and “Mujhe tujhme badi dilchaspi haiâ€Â
Dialogues are witty, cinematography excellent and if one can forgive the initial portion, editing is first-rate.Â
In all, it’s an interesting Sunday time-pass movie which can be watched by leaving your brains, tension and worries outside the theater.Â
Overall: Worth a view!
On the basis of its win in Bengal, visit this the Left claims it will be ‘stronger’ and have more say in the matters of Central interest. Everyone seems to have taken this with muted acknowledgement, web as if it is a but-natural thing to happen.
I fail to understand the logic. How does a win in one (or two) states change equation at the Centre? How can a regional win mean that the party has achieved right to be a bully for the entire nation?
Can any one explain? I am completely lost!
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Ministry of Information and Broadcasting has put a temporary halt on Da Vinci Code’s release. It’s a strange decision, buy and entirely unwarranted, diet though not very surprising. Of course, plague why it’s been done is no big surprise. Religion is huge in India – and any religion at that!Â
Earlier, Water was stalled – to the extent that Deepa Mehta had to shoot the film in Sri Lanka surreptitiously under the guise of making a different film. I have my own reservations against films like Water, especially when they come from film-makers not living in India and their target audiences are not Indians. But I never agreed with reasons forwarded by Hindu fundamentalist in their protest. For all that came across, Water was just another film depicting things existed; if they are hard to swallow, so be it – change those old malpractices if you can!
Â
Much before Water, Mehta had faced the same problem during the screening of Fire. Again, I had my own reservations against that film, much different from what VHP/Shiv Sena wanted us to believe. Fire was a lousy piece of cinema, soporific, slow paced and an insult to lesbians. Like its successor-in-theme corny flick Girlfriend, Fire gave no respectable breathing space to the lesbians’ cause, and was a pretty juvenile attempt at portraying a solemn issue. Just because it had ‘serious’ stars like Nandita Das and Shabana Azmi, it gathered reflected respectability; else, for me it’s a film that deserved to be trashed, and would have drowned unsung in the gutter of box office oblivion had not the Shiv Sainiks jumped to rescue it and flaunt its stinking carcass!Â
However, at the same time, I am not at all for the ‘freedom of expression’ bullshit forwarded. It sounds paradoxical, but my argument is that there shouldn’t be any direct assault to anyone’s religion. The Danish cartoons were in bad taste. Just as MF Hussain’s nude paintings of Hindu Goddessess. Let’s leave the Gods, Goddessess, Prophets and Messiahs aside; let’s not caricature them; doodle them; or, present them in twisted way. That is not ‘fiction’. That is a deliberate attempt at poking at someone’s idols.Â
But if there is a fictional account involving them, or some theory, or some untold story by all means go ahead, write it, paint it or make a film but keep the disclaimer ‘a work of fiction’ in bold. Tomorrow if there is a story involving some secret documents involving Lord Rama, I am sure it would make an interesting fictional thriller – as long as it doesn’t insult Lord Rama.
Which, I believe, The Da Vince Code, the book, doesn’t do to Christian God, so I doubt the film version will deviate too much away from its source.  To me, the book was a good time pass read; very well thought of, with an exciting pace and adrelanin-rushing narrative flow and an enthralling climax – but just at that; beyond this, I didn’t bother to think to hard. In fact, amongst Dan Brown’s ouvre, I rate Angels and Demons his best work.
Coming back to the original intention of writing this post, my worry is of different kind. Da Vince Code is only a movie version of a book that has been around for quite some time. Why this sudden obsession in banning it? Were the powers-that-be sleeping earlier when the book was selling like hot cakes in India? Wasn’t the religion threatened then?Â
Or, has it been taken for granted that book reading is such an obscure hobby amongst Indians that even those who bought it wouldn’t have really bothered to much to understand or go through it comprehensively, and most would have bought it just to show that they are ‘up to date’ with the latest best seller? Hence, this brouhaha over the film’s release.Â
If the matter of contention is only the punchline ‘come and know the truth’ used in the trailors, that is something that the makers need to look into. Surely, they can have it removed to ensure a smooth and trouble-free release. But I feel that is not exactly the real issue. Or again, on second thoughts, it might be – after all, in these days of limited attention span, any controversy is good marketing!Â
So, what’s your take on this issue? And no, for this you need not SMS at 3535, typing DVC followed by a space and your opinion, nor do you have to call at 1600-11-3535 (whose lines will be forever busy, yet there will thousand responses) ;-P – the comment box below is good enough!Â
Rajesh Roshan has come up with quite an unlikely present day song. And I was correct. The roots of this melody can be traced in the background score of Kaho Na Pyar Hai. In the scene where Hrithik and Amisha are stranded on a deserted island, pharm there is a shot where Hrithik is running towards the make-shift flag (made of Amisha’s skirt) – the dholak-based tune in that shot is same as the lines, ‘Aao sunaoon pyaar ki ek kahani’.
Often music directors develop their own background scores into full-fledged songs. Shankar-Jaikishan were particularly known to do this often. Shiv Hari converted Chandni‘s love theme into the sumptuous Kabhi Mai Kahun for Lamhe.
The reason that we don’t get to hear more such instances these days is that music composers don’t do the background scores of their films. In all probabilities, there is a separate composer involved to do the background music.
Now I hope KNPH’s background score was Rajesh Roshan’s own only; else, in these days of ‘open source’ you never know whose tune becomes someone else’s. The website, http://www.itwofs.com/ has exposed that the second promoted song ‘Dil na diya’ is a lift from Turkish source! Sigh! Wither originality? Rajesh Roshan is not even ‘over worked’ to not have used his brains to create something fresh – and he can’t hide behind ‘producer-ne-kaha’ excuse because this is a family production. So Roshan saab, care to explain why?
People like Preetam have made a career out of copying tunes. My letter in Filmfare May 2006 won the Best Letter Prize ripping apart Preetam’s claims as an ‘original composer’ ( he said he ‘rarely’ copied, and when he did he always mentioned the source). Do read it if you can.
The site itwofs is a goldmine as it exposes many composers’ thefts – old and new; along with a write up, the site owner Karthik presents small clips, giving proof of the extent which composers have stolen the original tune. Needless to say that the newer composers are more blatant and unabashed in their copying. The older ones made sure to cover it up enough with their own signature style and effort.
Some big shocks from this site were the absolutely shameless lifts in Dhadkan, Parineeta and Khamoshi songs. But what broke the heart (and even Karthik mentions it so) was Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak‘s ‘Akele hain toh kya gham hai’; as he states:
This would rate as one of the most heart-breaking lifts I’ve encountered so far! And its so damn blatant that you almost think that the instrumental piece I’ve added here is simply an instrumental version of the QSQT track. The first thing that came to my mind after listening to the original was, ‘…and they got paid for this?’ Note: I still think someone’s gonna mail me saying that the original listed above is nothing but an instrumental version of the Hindi track and that this site sucks.
In a recent interview Himesh Reshammiya said he makes music for the young generation which downloads songs from internet. Coming from an industry insider, this is the nearest one can get to legitimizing music piracy – and quite a volte face from his colleague Shabana Azmi, who once came shrilly pounding like a demented matron on Modern School kids dangling her finger at them, warning against music piracy (never mind the kids looked blankly trying to see if they have black patches over their eyes, the only image of pirates they know from story books!)
This a huge change from the past.
Any one from the generation of fifties/sixties will have fond stories to relate about the effort they made to listen to their favorite songs. I have heard it from dad. I have read it in many groups/forums – people have cycled long distances just to go to a shop playing the records of then current hits. I guess, that’s the reason the composers of that era had so much responsibility towards their listeners, (who made genuine efforts in appreciating their hard work), and thus they thought it fit to give them value-for-effort (mind you, in essence downloading and listening from a shop are similar; either ways, one is not buying the album – but the amount of hard work gone is different).
But now music is easy come and easy go; and I reckon, that’s how it is created as well.
While HRD Ministry draws rightful flak for its regressive reservation policy, look there is a positive tune also emanating from its corridors. The Ministry has proposed changes to the archaic Copyright Act 1957. Under the proposed changes, it will be difficult for the remix brigade to pick up any song and maul and distort it at their fancy – the journey from beautiful to beat-iful will get tougher!
Hindustan Times reports:
In a bid to protect the artistic rights of popular musicians and lyricists of Bollywood, the ministry has proposed several changes in the Copyright Act, 1957. To reproduce the tune or the lyrics in any form will require permission of the rights holder. But if the period is of less than five years, the approval will have to be taken fo rthe kind of the alterations or remix been proposed
Sounds good. Also, the credits to original artists will have to be made mandatory, and royalty paid to them as well. Very interesting – I hope they also specify the font size of these credits. Else, I can almost foresee a convenient loop-hole there.
The second issue, of which I am not sure of but can be troublesome, is that who really holds the rights of the old songs? Is it the artists or the music company? Most likely, its the latter. In that case, the changes can fall flat on its faces. Approx. 75-80% of old songs are with one company; if that company chooses not to allow grant permission to the newer ones, its ok. But, that same company is no less guilty of the remix trauma unleashed on music lovers – remember Deepal Shaw and Baby Doll remixes?
Let me find more about the ‘rights’ control.
Anyways, the proposed changes are more than welcome and I sincerely pray they implement it fast. I hope the remix fad will die down now.
Barely had the controversy surrounding ‘Da Vinci Code’ subsided (it’s not fully over as yet; Punjab – of all states!  – has banned its release), viagra dosage  another much awaited film has fallen under ‘fanaa‘tic’s glare! For small mercies, buy cialis this time the reason is not religious; and is restricted to one state.
I am not an Aamir fan; and wouldn’t really have cared if it hadn’t been for Yash Raj Films, sale Kajol and Kunal Kohli – for their sake, I want the film to be a success. On its own, the film was slated to be one major grosser, and that’s because of the above three reasons; it would have been equally awaited had it starred Saif, Salman or Shahrukh (perhaps even more, considering that as a pair Shahrukh-Kajol have a 100% hit ratio ); in my scheme of things, Aamir is the most expendable person, and that the controversy surrounds him angers me more.
For those who came in late, a brief on the controversy – Sometime back Aamir Khan had made remarks against the Narmada Dam in Gujarat ( in all fairness, the remarks were not all that inflamatory, he only requested proper rehabilitation for the displaced people – at least that’s what he claims now, I havent heard / read his original statements). However his stand has been taken otherwise as anti -Gujarat/ anti-development. Consequently, the political party at Gujarat’s helm has taken offence and as a protest are not allowing Fanaa’s release!
The news channels have had a gala time today with Aamir throwing a press conference. As a counter, actor Shatrughan Sinha has jumped into the fray, revealing a deep frission within the film industry and how politics is above artists’ solidarity – also, burning a deep hole in Aamir’s own statement ‘everyone {in the industry} is with me’!
Aamir’s press conference was given. Sinha’s counter-attack was also sort of expected; he doesnt really have much work, and this was good enough opportunity to bag some limelight – in fact, I was just waiting for that other grand-messiah-of-quotes, without whom news channels / magazines might not survive, Mahesh Bhatt, to make some silly remark in his characteristic pseudo-serious style!
But what really made me choke on my dinner was that even the Prime Minister gave a statement on this – straight from Srinagar, where he has gone for a round-table conference!
Is Fanaa‘s release this big an issue that the Prime Minister has to make out time to talk about it when he has gone for a far bigger and important work?
In all the junk the channels spewed out, one issue that I felt should have been there got missed:
Banning a film might be a sort of symbolic defeat to Aamir, but where the hard-realities are concerned, does it really matter? He would already have got his remuneration for this film, and by the time his next will release, this matter will be out of memory.
So who loses the most, and that too where it hurts the maximum – monetarily? Of course, the producer and the distributor (in this case, both are same as Yash Raj Films releases its own films).Â
Where is the sanity of making Yash Raj Films lose money for the act of their lead star? In any case, when Fanaa was started and Aamir signed on, they wouldnt know that he would hurt the Gujarati sentiments. Why should they bear the losses now? Why should they get into the cross-fire for no fault of theirs?
Strangely, no one is thinking of that. While Aamir goes to channels with his righteous indignation and refusing to apologize or retract, why doesnt he at the same time give back his part-remuneration to Yash Raj Films covering up the losses? It’s all ok to play ‘hero to the poor’ (his statement, not mine) – Â at the same time show some respect towards the hand that fed you for a while!
When asked ‘dont you think Fanaa will lose money because of your statements?’ his reply was :Â
People are losing their homes, temples and schools because of the Narmada dam and they are not getting an alternative replacement. I don’t think Rs 5 to 7 crores (Rs 50 milllion to Rs 70 million) will matter when it comes to their lives and livelihood.
Good passionate reply… but err, Aamir, why dont you lose your own 5-7 crores, not your producers’!
I will not buy the argument that since Chopras have enough money, they don’t have the right to earn more – and certainly not because their hero has suddenly developed a rebellious streak post-Rang De Basanti! Come to think of, Aamir and Chopra together have never gelled well; years back, Aamir had unceremoniously walked out of Darr, fighting over a petty joint-script-session issue (Shahrukh stepped into the role, and – as they say -rest was history!). Earlier, Parampara was a massive dud at box office.
While Sahara’s Filmy mentioned Yash Chopra’s appeal to Gujarat political heads / exhibitors , the others maintained a stoic silence on his plight (at least the prime time news that I saw on a couple of channels).
If one must find some positive side to all this – it looks as if Fanaa has achieved in uniting diverse political and business forces – the exhibitors have said no to the film ; the parties are showing solidarity on the issue!
Inviting your views on this – the forum is open below !
Warning : For those who havent seen the movie – the review contains spoilers!
Subhan Allah! They still make movies with an old-worldly charm, cialis 40mg find which is like having a tasteful and lovingly served meal that leaves a lingering aftertaste of flavor and fulfillment. Fanaa is a fantastic follow up by Kunal Kohli to his other emotional mellow-drama Hum Tum ; and as a director he displays a natural maturity progression in his craft and subject, search tackling a deeper version of romance than his previous two films.
Fanaa is definitely not for GenNow. They will not understand the leisurely pace; nor the hushed unfolding of a tender romance between a blind girl Zoonie Ali Beg (Kajol) and her guide Rehan Quadri (Aamir Khan) set against the backdrop of Delhi’s historical heritage – who suddenly leaves here with love, viagra 60mg eyesight and a child; neither would they gauge the strained undercurrents between Zooni and Rehan when they finally meet again, constrained by a storm raging outside, destroyed by a storm blasting within.
But if you can leave the hectic hustle bustle of life outside the theaters, sit back and enjoy a story which is not perfect, but is told affectionately and astonishingly beautifully! This is Kunal Kohli’s ideal tribute to his mentor Yash Chopra’s style of film-making from his earlier days. The narrative pace is graceful, without any bumps or burps!The film’s strong point is Shibani Bhatija’s brilliantly fleshed out script, to which Kunal Kohli adds a fine dollop of memorable dialogues – they add grace to the film. Each scene, every little piece of information given builds up to the entire whole. In a way, the first shot itself where Kajol’s patriotic fervor is hinted paves way for the heart-wrenching climax. And thereafter, we are engrossed in Zoonie-Rehan’s tedhi life, merry life – a well-oiled narrative!
The film provides for this year’s best hero-heroine meeting sequence, and a subsequent romance build up that takes place with an easy exchange of shaayri, some pedestrian, some eloquent; nothing overtly funny, but mildly amusing that ensures a genial warm smile. Leitmotifs like Aamir placing a hand on Kajol’s heart and saying ‘tumhe darr lag raha hai‘ are introduced, that will get repeated later on. Adages like ‘choosing between two rights’ ominously hint on forthcoming events without telling it all. The terror is introduced mildly at first, and then full blast as we are introduced the dark side of Aamir’s character, and the story moves with him in his vile mission, leaving the audience with that rankle wondering about Zoonie’s fate – till destiny places him again at her doorstep! This portion, with the kid taking centrestage, is endearing – once again, it’s not like watching a film, it’s as if we are made privy to the private lives of the characters. The movement in this part is flawless. The build up between Rehan and his son, also named Rehan by his mother, is engaging.
The characterizations are vivid. Zoonie’s yearning for romance at the first given instance is understandable, and well portrayed; however, Rehan’s falling in love needed a small background to delianate that he was predisposed towards love in the first place. Keeping that aside, Rehan’s visible portions on screen are pretty complete, logical and rounded off. Details are otherwise taken care of, providing even the background to Zoonie’s parent’s marriage, and the no-nonsense cop’s (Tabu) family life (not shown, but mentioned adequately).
Now for a bit of negatives – the film falters just a wee bit before the climax, at the portions dealing with Rishi Kapoor and Satish Shah’s death. Somehow, the intensity of Rishi’s death doesn’t grab the audience with the guttural shock that it should have, which in a way tames the ensuing the climax. In actuality the film’s peak and end is the point where Aamir and Kajol face each other with guns pointed at each other – a marvelous shot juxtaposed with montages from their memory; it scales the emotional peak as individually both the characters reach their existential nadir.
This is Kunal Kohli’s attempt at ‘Wife India’ (as opposed to ‘Mother India’ where a mother shoots her errant son) – and maybe doesn’t succeed fully there, but what the hell – the overall film is so sweet that we readily forgive him for that.
Fanaa makes you wistfully lament at Kajol’s absence all these years; she fires up the screen yet again with her effervescent magic in thousand-watt luminous glow. As Zoonie, a naïve blind girl, ready to fall in love at the first instance, she etches the hesitation with remarkable finesse- histrionics at their best, without for once letting the audience be aware that she is actually acting it all out. That’s naturalness at its peak! And does she look ravishing! Well, I will not even begin on that – watch it on the big screen as Ravi Chandran’s adept camerawork fondly captures her charming beauty. Kajol – please do keep doing films forever!
Aamir Khan comes out trumps in the emotional scenes – especially in the second half. Credit to Kohli for keeping him very restrained (and not going the DJ-Rang De Basanti way) in the first half, though sometimes these scenes seem labored- plus he looks horridly haggard in those shots. It looks the emotional ones come out the easiest and most natural for the actor.
Together Aamir and Kajol provide a crackling screen chemistry.
Rishi Kapoor and Kirron Kher – as Zoonie’s parents – are exceedingly sweet. Shruti Seth (of Shararat /Star Plus/Friday evening) makes a fine debut as Zoonie’s friend. Like Hum Tum, Kohli has gathered a plethora of known faces to fill in for bit roles – so, Shiney Ahuja, Lara Dutta and Lilette Dubey appear for few minutes on-screen. Tabu is wasted in an inconsequential role though she gives an honest portrayal.
The child artiste is cute and thankfully, child-like!
Salim-Suleiman’s background score is outstanding. They use ‘Chand Sifarish’ theme and ‘Ya Maula’ to a haunting effect – in fact, the background music enhances the scenes several notches.
Jatin Lalit’s main score is already a big hit, and rightfully so. The songs that were a delight aurally are given a majestic treatment visually. Lata Mangeshkar’s evocative Lag ja gale se has been magnificently used to unite the lovers.
Ravi Chandran’s lush cinematography is poetry in itself – Delhi has never looked so beautiful. Poland’s virgin landscapes (posing for Kashmir) are stunningly gorgeous and the opening Kashmiri winter collage is eye-candy!
In all, Fanaa is a very satisfying and exquisitely mesmerising film. I enjoyed it thoroughly. Whether the length was long or short is something I can comment after a second view – its only then one can see the redundancies – as of now, I wouldnt have wanted it any shorter than what it is! And when the film stays back with you long after the last frames are over, then it’s a success. For me, Fanaa is this year’s Black – a film that will not be forgotten soon.
Overall: Must See!
Warning : For those who havent seen the movie – the review contains spoilers!
Subhan Allah! They still make movies with an old-worldly charm, cialis 40mg find which is like having a tasteful and lovingly served meal that leaves a lingering aftertaste of flavor and fulfillment. Fanaa is a fantastic follow up by Kunal Kohli to his other emotional mellow-drama Hum Tum ; and as a director he displays a natural maturity progression in his craft and subject, search tackling a deeper version of romance than his previous two films.
Fanaa is definitely not for GenNow. They will not understand the leisurely pace; nor the hushed unfolding of a tender romance between a blind girl Zoonie Ali Beg (Kajol) and her guide Rehan Quadri (Aamir Khan) set against the backdrop of Delhi’s historical heritage – who suddenly leaves here with love, viagra 60mg eyesight and a child; neither would they gauge the strained undercurrents between Zooni and Rehan when they finally meet again, constrained by a storm raging outside, destroyed by a storm blasting within.
But if you can leave the hectic hustle bustle of life outside the theaters, sit back and enjoy a story which is not perfect, but is told affectionately and astonishingly beautifully! This is Kunal Kohli’s ideal tribute to his mentor Yash Chopra’s style of film-making from his earlier days. The narrative pace is graceful, without any bumps or burps!The film’s strong point is Shibani Bhatija’s brilliantly fleshed out script, to which Kunal Kohli adds a fine dollop of memorable dialogues – they add grace to the film. Each scene, every little piece of information given builds up to the entire whole. In a way, the first shot itself where Kajol’s patriotic fervor is hinted paves way for the heart-wrenching climax. And thereafter, we are engrossed in Zoonie-Rehan’s tedhi life, merry life – a well-oiled narrative!
The film provides for this year’s best hero-heroine meeting sequence, and a subsequent romance build up that takes place with an easy exchange of shaayri, some pedestrian, some eloquent; nothing overtly funny, but mildly amusing that ensures a genial warm smile. Leitmotifs like Aamir placing a hand on Kajol’s heart and saying ‘tumhe darr lag raha hai‘ are introduced, that will get repeated later on. Adages like ‘choosing between two rights’ ominously hint on forthcoming events without telling it all. The terror is introduced mildly at first, and then full blast as we are introduced the dark side of Aamir’s character, and the story moves with him in his vile mission, leaving the audience with that rankle wondering about Zoonie’s fate – till destiny places him again at her doorstep! This portion, with the kid taking centrestage, is endearing – once again, it’s not like watching a film, it’s as if we are made privy to the private lives of the characters. The movement in this part is flawless. The build up between Rehan and his son, also named Rehan by his mother, is engaging.
The characterizations are vivid. Zoonie’s yearning for romance at the first given instance is understandable, and well portrayed; however, Rehan’s falling in love needed a small background to delianate that he was predisposed towards love in the first place. Keeping that aside, Rehan’s visible portions on screen are pretty complete, logical and rounded off. Details are otherwise taken care of, providing even the background to Zoonie’s parent’s marriage, and the no-nonsense cop’s (Tabu) family life (not shown, but mentioned adequately).
Now for a bit of negatives – the film falters just a wee bit before the climax, at the portions dealing with Rishi Kapoor and Satish Shah’s death. Somehow, the intensity of Rishi’s death doesn’t grab the audience with the guttural shock that it should have, which in a way tames the ensuing the climax. In actuality the film’s peak and end is the point where Aamir and Kajol face each other with guns pointed at each other – a marvelous shot juxtaposed with montages from their memory; it scales the emotional peak as individually both the characters reach their existential nadir.
This is Kunal Kohli’s attempt at ‘Wife India’ (as opposed to ‘Mother India’ where a mother shoots her errant son) – and maybe doesn’t succeed fully there, but what the hell – the overall film is so sweet that we readily forgive him for that.
Fanaa makes you wistfully lament at Kajol’s absence all these years; she fires up the screen yet again with her effervescent magic in thousand-watt luminous glow. As Zoonie, a naïve blind girl, ready to fall in love at the first instance, she etches the hesitation with remarkable finesse- histrionics at their best, without for once letting the audience be aware that she is actually acting it all out. That’s naturalness at its peak! And does she look ravishing! Well, I will not even begin on that – watch it on the big screen as Ravi Chandran’s adept camerawork fondly captures her charming beauty. Kajol – please do keep doing films forever!
Aamir Khan comes out trumps in the emotional scenes – especially in the second half. Credit to Kohli for keeping him very restrained (and not going the DJ-Rang De Basanti way) in the first half, though sometimes these scenes seem labored- plus he looks horridly haggard in those shots. It looks the emotional ones come out the easiest and most natural for the actor.
Together Aamir and Kajol provide a crackling screen chemistry.
Rishi Kapoor and Kirron Kher – as Zoonie’s parents – are exceedingly sweet. Shruti Seth (of Shararat /Star Plus/Friday evening) makes a fine debut as Zoonie’s friend. Like Hum Tum, Kohli has gathered a plethora of known faces to fill in for bit roles – so, Shiney Ahuja, Lara Dutta and Lilette Dubey appear for few minutes on-screen. Tabu is wasted in an inconsequential role though she gives an honest portrayal.
The child artiste is cute and thankfully, child-like!
Salim-Suleiman’s background score is outstanding. They use ‘Chand Sifarish’ theme and ‘Ya Maula’ to a haunting effect – in fact, the background music enhances the scenes several notches.
Jatin Lalit’s main score is already a big hit, and rightfully so. The songs that were a delight aurally are given a majestic treatment visually. Lata Mangeshkar’s evocative Lag ja gale se has been magnificently used to unite the lovers.
Ravi Chandran’s lush cinematography is poetry in itself – Delhi has never looked so beautiful. Poland’s virgin landscapes (posing for Kashmir) are stunningly gorgeous and the opening Kashmiri winter collage is eye-candy!
In all, Fanaa is a very satisfying and exquisitely mesmerising film. I enjoyed it thoroughly. Whether the length was long or short is something I can comment after a second view – its only then one can see the redundancies – as of now, I wouldnt have wanted it any shorter than what it is! And when the film stays back with you long after the last frames are over, then it’s a success. For me, Fanaa is this year’s Black – a film that will not be forgotten soon.
Overall: Must See!
Movie-watching is a passion. And its very rare that I will ever walk out of a theater – however bad the film might be. I dont like missing any part of the film, rubella hence I never walk out on the songs even. For me a movie is not even enjoyable if I miss the advertisements and trailors at the beginning.
Yet, viagra buy it has happened – not once, find but twice over. So, you can imagine how boring these films would have been.
Well, the quiz is – can you guess which two films am I talking about?
Hint One – For long (precisely till 2005), this was the ‘lone’ film that had the dubious distinction in my life for being the one wherein I could not bear to sit through. It was towards the climax when I lost all patience and even forced my friends to leave the theater. Surprisingly it starred my most favorite actor - the superstar of all times, and even currently going strong in his sixties! The film had some hideous songs, one revolving around the hero’s car – a yellow Volkswagon. Name the film!
Hint Two – Can you beat this? The second film I walked out mid-way in a song actually starred the hero of Hint One Movie’s son in the lead role. Admittedly, I returned after the song to sit through the whole movie – but I felt that particular song was really badly placed, and it tested my patience no end. The film went on to become one of the biggest grossers of 2005; the song was quite a big hit, so much so it had a game-show based on its title – though it was the other song from the same film, that starred another heroine in a guest appearance, which rocked the nation! Name the film! (And if possible, the song in which I left the theater).
I think the hints are good enough, no?
Answers to be mailed at quiz@deepakjeswal.com
Last date – June 6th 2006 1900 Hrs.
Â
Â
Warning : For those who havent seen the movie – the review contains spoilers!
Subhan Allah! They still make movies with an old-worldly charm, cialis 40mg find which is like having a tasteful and lovingly served meal that leaves a lingering aftertaste of flavor and fulfillment. Fanaa is a fantastic follow up by Kunal Kohli to his other emotional mellow-drama Hum Tum ; and as a director he displays a natural maturity progression in his craft and subject, search tackling a deeper version of romance than his previous two films.
Fanaa is definitely not for GenNow. They will not understand the leisurely pace; nor the hushed unfolding of a tender romance between a blind girl Zoonie Ali Beg (Kajol) and her guide Rehan Quadri (Aamir Khan) set against the backdrop of Delhi’s historical heritage – who suddenly leaves here with love, viagra 60mg eyesight and a child; neither would they gauge the strained undercurrents between Zooni and Rehan when they finally meet again, constrained by a storm raging outside, destroyed by a storm blasting within.
But if you can leave the hectic hustle bustle of life outside the theaters, sit back and enjoy a story which is not perfect, but is told affectionately and astonishingly beautifully! This is Kunal Kohli’s ideal tribute to his mentor Yash Chopra’s style of film-making from his earlier days. The narrative pace is graceful, without any bumps or burps!The film’s strong point is Shibani Bhatija’s brilliantly fleshed out script, to which Kunal Kohli adds a fine dollop of memorable dialogues – they add grace to the film. Each scene, every little piece of information given builds up to the entire whole. In a way, the first shot itself where Kajol’s patriotic fervor is hinted paves way for the heart-wrenching climax. And thereafter, we are engrossed in Zoonie-Rehan’s tedhi life, merry life – a well-oiled narrative!
The film provides for this year’s best hero-heroine meeting sequence, and a subsequent romance build up that takes place with an easy exchange of shaayri, some pedestrian, some eloquent; nothing overtly funny, but mildly amusing that ensures a genial warm smile. Leitmotifs like Aamir placing a hand on Kajol’s heart and saying ‘tumhe darr lag raha hai‘ are introduced, that will get repeated later on. Adages like ‘choosing between two rights’ ominously hint on forthcoming events without telling it all. The terror is introduced mildly at first, and then full blast as we are introduced the dark side of Aamir’s character, and the story moves with him in his vile mission, leaving the audience with that rankle wondering about Zoonie’s fate – till destiny places him again at her doorstep! This portion, with the kid taking centrestage, is endearing – once again, it’s not like watching a film, it’s as if we are made privy to the private lives of the characters. The movement in this part is flawless. The build up between Rehan and his son, also named Rehan by his mother, is engaging.
The characterizations are vivid. Zoonie’s yearning for romance at the first given instance is understandable, and well portrayed; however, Rehan’s falling in love needed a small background to delianate that he was predisposed towards love in the first place. Keeping that aside, Rehan’s visible portions on screen are pretty complete, logical and rounded off. Details are otherwise taken care of, providing even the background to Zoonie’s parent’s marriage, and the no-nonsense cop’s (Tabu) family life (not shown, but mentioned adequately).
Now for a bit of negatives – the film falters just a wee bit before the climax, at the portions dealing with Rishi Kapoor and Satish Shah’s death. Somehow, the intensity of Rishi’s death doesn’t grab the audience with the guttural shock that it should have, which in a way tames the ensuing the climax. In actuality the film’s peak and end is the point where Aamir and Kajol face each other with guns pointed at each other – a marvelous shot juxtaposed with montages from their memory; it scales the emotional peak as individually both the characters reach their existential nadir.
This is Kunal Kohli’s attempt at ‘Wife India’ (as opposed to ‘Mother India’ where a mother shoots her errant son) – and maybe doesn’t succeed fully there, but what the hell – the overall film is so sweet that we readily forgive him for that.
Fanaa makes you wistfully lament at Kajol’s absence all these years; she fires up the screen yet again with her effervescent magic in thousand-watt luminous glow. As Zoonie, a naïve blind girl, ready to fall in love at the first instance, she etches the hesitation with remarkable finesse- histrionics at their best, without for once letting the audience be aware that she is actually acting it all out. That’s naturalness at its peak! And does she look ravishing! Well, I will not even begin on that – watch it on the big screen as Ravi Chandran’s adept camerawork fondly captures her charming beauty. Kajol – please do keep doing films forever!
Aamir Khan comes out trumps in the emotional scenes – especially in the second half. Credit to Kohli for keeping him very restrained (and not going the DJ-Rang De Basanti way) in the first half, though sometimes these scenes seem labored- plus he looks horridly haggard in those shots. It looks the emotional ones come out the easiest and most natural for the actor.
Together Aamir and Kajol provide a crackling screen chemistry.
Rishi Kapoor and Kirron Kher – as Zoonie’s parents – are exceedingly sweet. Shruti Seth (of Shararat /Star Plus/Friday evening) makes a fine debut as Zoonie’s friend. Like Hum Tum, Kohli has gathered a plethora of known faces to fill in for bit roles – so, Shiney Ahuja, Lara Dutta and Lilette Dubey appear for few minutes on-screen. Tabu is wasted in an inconsequential role though she gives an honest portrayal.
The child artiste is cute and thankfully, child-like!
Salim-Suleiman’s background score is outstanding. They use ‘Chand Sifarish’ theme and ‘Ya Maula’ to a haunting effect – in fact, the background music enhances the scenes several notches.
Jatin Lalit’s main score is already a big hit, and rightfully so. The songs that were a delight aurally are given a majestic treatment visually. Lata Mangeshkar’s evocative Lag ja gale se has been magnificently used to unite the lovers.
Ravi Chandran’s lush cinematography is poetry in itself – Delhi has never looked so beautiful. Poland’s virgin landscapes (posing for Kashmir) are stunningly gorgeous and the opening Kashmiri winter collage is eye-candy!
In all, Fanaa is a very satisfying and exquisitely mesmerising film. I enjoyed it thoroughly. Whether the length was long or short is something I can comment after a second view – its only then one can see the redundancies – as of now, I wouldnt have wanted it any shorter than what it is! And when the film stays back with you long after the last frames are over, then it’s a success. For me, Fanaa is this year’s Black – a film that will not be forgotten soon.
Overall: Must See!
Movie-watching is a passion. And its very rare that I will ever walk out of a theater – however bad the film might be. I dont like missing any part of the film, rubella hence I never walk out on the songs even. For me a movie is not even enjoyable if I miss the advertisements and trailors at the beginning.
Yet, viagra buy it has happened – not once, find but twice over. So, you can imagine how boring these films would have been.
Well, the quiz is – can you guess which two films am I talking about?
Hint One – For long (precisely till 2005), this was the ‘lone’ film that had the dubious distinction in my life for being the one wherein I could not bear to sit through. It was towards the climax when I lost all patience and even forced my friends to leave the theater. Surprisingly it starred my most favorite actor - the superstar of all times, and even currently going strong in his sixties! The film had some hideous songs, one revolving around the hero’s car – a yellow Volkswagon. Name the film!
Hint Two – Can you beat this? The second film I walked out mid-way in a song actually starred the hero of Hint One Movie’s son in the lead role. Admittedly, I returned after the song to sit through the whole movie – but I felt that particular song was really badly placed, and it tested my patience no end. The film went on to become one of the biggest grossers of 2005; the song was quite a big hit, so much so it had a game-show based on its title – though it was the other song from the same film, that starred another heroine in a guest appearance, which rocked the nation! Name the film! (And if possible, the song in which I left the theater).
I think the hints are good enough, no?
Answers to be mailed at quiz@deepakjeswal.com
Last date – June 6th 2006 1900 Hrs.
Â
Â
The answers are as follows:
1. Akayla - I saw it with friends after a gruelling college lecture. It was difficult to decide which was bad – the lecture or this film. Coming from Ramesh Sippy, capsule with Amitabh Bachchan in the lead, disease and stable actors like Shashi Kapoor and Jackie Shroff as supporting casts, calling it a ‘let-down’ is an understatement. For long I believed this was the worst Amitabh Bachhan movie ever made – till the time I saw Lal Badshah and Mrityudaata; thankfully, for the latter two I didn’t waste time and money at a theater, and also had the option of a remote control in my hand!
2. Bunty Aur Bubli - Nothing, simply nothing, had prepared me for this - in spite of Ashish warning me about it, I still held hope that the film will be passably entertaining. The jokes failed to make me laugh. And the way the cons were executed, and presented in a stupid collage, put me off completely. By the time the useless and unwanted number ‘Nach baliye’ came on, I threw up my arms – and self out of the theater! This answer would have been easy for Ashish and Anubha to answer, since I had called them up during that song!
Now when I see the song I feel it is quite pleasantly choreographed (Shiamik Dawar at work). And it is aurally above average too.
The film was shown as part of a promotional program which our company had organized for our channel partners in Nepal. Thankfully, like the rest of India, everyone lapped up the movie and enjoyed it.
So, this was a quick and short quiz. The winners will be announced shortly.
Coming up next – An alphabetical tag!
Warning : For those who havent seen the movie – the review contains spoilers!
Subhan Allah! They still make movies with an old-worldly charm, cialis 40mg find which is like having a tasteful and lovingly served meal that leaves a lingering aftertaste of flavor and fulfillment. Fanaa is a fantastic follow up by Kunal Kohli to his other emotional mellow-drama Hum Tum ; and as a director he displays a natural maturity progression in his craft and subject, search tackling a deeper version of romance than his previous two films.
Fanaa is definitely not for GenNow. They will not understand the leisurely pace; nor the hushed unfolding of a tender romance between a blind girl Zoonie Ali Beg (Kajol) and her guide Rehan Quadri (Aamir Khan) set against the backdrop of Delhi’s historical heritage – who suddenly leaves here with love, viagra 60mg eyesight and a child; neither would they gauge the strained undercurrents between Zooni and Rehan when they finally meet again, constrained by a storm raging outside, destroyed by a storm blasting within.
But if you can leave the hectic hustle bustle of life outside the theaters, sit back and enjoy a story which is not perfect, but is told affectionately and astonishingly beautifully! This is Kunal Kohli’s ideal tribute to his mentor Yash Chopra’s style of film-making from his earlier days. The narrative pace is graceful, without any bumps or burps!The film’s strong point is Shibani Bhatija’s brilliantly fleshed out script, to which Kunal Kohli adds a fine dollop of memorable dialogues – they add grace to the film. Each scene, every little piece of information given builds up to the entire whole. In a way, the first shot itself where Kajol’s patriotic fervor is hinted paves way for the heart-wrenching climax. And thereafter, we are engrossed in Zoonie-Rehan’s tedhi life, merry life – a well-oiled narrative!
The film provides for this year’s best hero-heroine meeting sequence, and a subsequent romance build up that takes place with an easy exchange of shaayri, some pedestrian, some eloquent; nothing overtly funny, but mildly amusing that ensures a genial warm smile. Leitmotifs like Aamir placing a hand on Kajol’s heart and saying ‘tumhe darr lag raha hai‘ are introduced, that will get repeated later on. Adages like ‘choosing between two rights’ ominously hint on forthcoming events without telling it all. The terror is introduced mildly at first, and then full blast as we are introduced the dark side of Aamir’s character, and the story moves with him in his vile mission, leaving the audience with that rankle wondering about Zoonie’s fate – till destiny places him again at her doorstep! This portion, with the kid taking centrestage, is endearing – once again, it’s not like watching a film, it’s as if we are made privy to the private lives of the characters. The movement in this part is flawless. The build up between Rehan and his son, also named Rehan by his mother, is engaging.
The characterizations are vivid. Zoonie’s yearning for romance at the first given instance is understandable, and well portrayed; however, Rehan’s falling in love needed a small background to delianate that he was predisposed towards love in the first place. Keeping that aside, Rehan’s visible portions on screen are pretty complete, logical and rounded off. Details are otherwise taken care of, providing even the background to Zoonie’s parent’s marriage, and the no-nonsense cop’s (Tabu) family life (not shown, but mentioned adequately).
Now for a bit of negatives – the film falters just a wee bit before the climax, at the portions dealing with Rishi Kapoor and Satish Shah’s death. Somehow, the intensity of Rishi’s death doesn’t grab the audience with the guttural shock that it should have, which in a way tames the ensuing the climax. In actuality the film’s peak and end is the point where Aamir and Kajol face each other with guns pointed at each other – a marvelous shot juxtaposed with montages from their memory; it scales the emotional peak as individually both the characters reach their existential nadir.
This is Kunal Kohli’s attempt at ‘Wife India’ (as opposed to ‘Mother India’ where a mother shoots her errant son) – and maybe doesn’t succeed fully there, but what the hell – the overall film is so sweet that we readily forgive him for that.
Fanaa makes you wistfully lament at Kajol’s absence all these years; she fires up the screen yet again with her effervescent magic in thousand-watt luminous glow. As Zoonie, a naïve blind girl, ready to fall in love at the first instance, she etches the hesitation with remarkable finesse- histrionics at their best, without for once letting the audience be aware that she is actually acting it all out. That’s naturalness at its peak! And does she look ravishing! Well, I will not even begin on that – watch it on the big screen as Ravi Chandran’s adept camerawork fondly captures her charming beauty. Kajol – please do keep doing films forever!
Aamir Khan comes out trumps in the emotional scenes – especially in the second half. Credit to Kohli for keeping him very restrained (and not going the DJ-Rang De Basanti way) in the first half, though sometimes these scenes seem labored- plus he looks horridly haggard in those shots. It looks the emotional ones come out the easiest and most natural for the actor.
Together Aamir and Kajol provide a crackling screen chemistry.
Rishi Kapoor and Kirron Kher – as Zoonie’s parents – are exceedingly sweet. Shruti Seth (of Shararat /Star Plus/Friday evening) makes a fine debut as Zoonie’s friend. Like Hum Tum, Kohli has gathered a plethora of known faces to fill in for bit roles – so, Shiney Ahuja, Lara Dutta and Lilette Dubey appear for few minutes on-screen. Tabu is wasted in an inconsequential role though she gives an honest portrayal.
The child artiste is cute and thankfully, child-like!
Salim-Suleiman’s background score is outstanding. They use ‘Chand Sifarish’ theme and ‘Ya Maula’ to a haunting effect – in fact, the background music enhances the scenes several notches.
Jatin Lalit’s main score is already a big hit, and rightfully so. The songs that were a delight aurally are given a majestic treatment visually. Lata Mangeshkar’s evocative Lag ja gale se has been magnificently used to unite the lovers.
Ravi Chandran’s lush cinematography is poetry in itself – Delhi has never looked so beautiful. Poland’s virgin landscapes (posing for Kashmir) are stunningly gorgeous and the opening Kashmiri winter collage is eye-candy!
In all, Fanaa is a very satisfying and exquisitely mesmerising film. I enjoyed it thoroughly. Whether the length was long or short is something I can comment after a second view – its only then one can see the redundancies – as of now, I wouldnt have wanted it any shorter than what it is! And when the film stays back with you long after the last frames are over, then it’s a success. For me, Fanaa is this year’s Black – a film that will not be forgotten soon.
Overall: Must See!
Movie-watching is a passion. And its very rare that I will ever walk out of a theater – however bad the film might be. I dont like missing any part of the film, rubella hence I never walk out on the songs even. For me a movie is not even enjoyable if I miss the advertisements and trailors at the beginning.
Yet, viagra buy it has happened – not once, find but twice over. So, you can imagine how boring these films would have been.
Well, the quiz is – can you guess which two films am I talking about?
Hint One – For long (precisely till 2005), this was the ‘lone’ film that had the dubious distinction in my life for being the one wherein I could not bear to sit through. It was towards the climax when I lost all patience and even forced my friends to leave the theater. Surprisingly it starred my most favorite actor - the superstar of all times, and even currently going strong in his sixties! The film had some hideous songs, one revolving around the hero’s car – a yellow Volkswagon. Name the film!
Hint Two – Can you beat this? The second film I walked out mid-way in a song actually starred the hero of Hint One Movie’s son in the lead role. Admittedly, I returned after the song to sit through the whole movie – but I felt that particular song was really badly placed, and it tested my patience no end. The film went on to become one of the biggest grossers of 2005; the song was quite a big hit, so much so it had a game-show based on its title – though it was the other song from the same film, that starred another heroine in a guest appearance, which rocked the nation! Name the film! (And if possible, the song in which I left the theater).
I think the hints are good enough, no?
Answers to be mailed at quiz@deepakjeswal.com
Last date – June 6th 2006 1900 Hrs.
Â
Â
The answers are as follows:
1. Akayla - I saw it with friends after a gruelling college lecture. It was difficult to decide which was bad – the lecture or this film. Coming from Ramesh Sippy, capsule with Amitabh Bachchan in the lead, disease and stable actors like Shashi Kapoor and Jackie Shroff as supporting casts, calling it a ‘let-down’ is an understatement. For long I believed this was the worst Amitabh Bachhan movie ever made – till the time I saw Lal Badshah and Mrityudaata; thankfully, for the latter two I didn’t waste time and money at a theater, and also had the option of a remote control in my hand!
2. Bunty Aur Bubli - Nothing, simply nothing, had prepared me for this - in spite of Ashish warning me about it, I still held hope that the film will be passably entertaining. The jokes failed to make me laugh. And the way the cons were executed, and presented in a stupid collage, put me off completely. By the time the useless and unwanted number ‘Nach baliye’ came on, I threw up my arms – and self out of the theater! This answer would have been easy for Ashish and Anubha to answer, since I had called them up during that song!
Now when I see the song I feel it is quite pleasantly choreographed (Shiamik Dawar at work). And it is aurally above average too.
The film was shown as part of a promotional program which our company had organized for our channel partners in Nepal. Thankfully, like the rest of India, everyone lapped up the movie and enjoyed it.
So, this was a quick and short quiz. The winners will be announced shortly.
Coming up next – An alphabetical tag!
I was tagged by Silky Moon, cost with the alphabet ‘K’ – this was a tough one, visit this coz I hardly could much from this alphabet from my life.
Here are a few of them:Â
K – a letter that carries enough luck to have changed fortunes of three showbiz personalities – Karan Johar, cheapest Rakesh Roshan and Ekta Kapoor. It’s the letter on which my name ends, so does that mean reverse luck for me?
Kashmir – a place I want to visit, but cannot given the situation there. I will not delve into the political background or historical veracities, but my emotional rant is that Indian map will seem head-less sans this state. Hope peace prevails on the paradise soon.Â
Karma – the foundation stone on which a large part of Hinduism rests; and something that I believe in.Â
Karela – not a favorite dish amongst many, but I love it – especially the masaaledaar way mom cooks. Piping hot daal, with karela, raita and a side of aachar or salad and phule-hue-phulke is an ideal halka-ghar-ka-khana
Kerala – Described as ‘God’s own country’, it is truly a beautiful place. A boat ride on the serene backwaters is very soothing and peaceful.Â
Kuchh nahin – a phrase I often use when I don’t want to get into too many specifics – it could mean anything: from ‘I am ok’ to ‘Pls. buzz off’Â
Kabhi Kabhie – a finely directed film with superhit music, majority songs sung by Lata Mangeshkar.
Kajol – one actor who is universally accepted and liked; I have yet to meet someone who isn’t fond of her. She is spontaneous, natural and carries a unique spunk that lights up the screen.Â
Kathmandu – a city on and from which I wrote the maximum; somehow on return, the rhythm is simply not returning. Lots of memories, lots of things to be cherished – those were good one-and-a-half-years. With an awesome weather, the city is – what I call – an ideal ‘retirement’ place; neither too big to be intimidating, nor too small to be boring. From the architectural finesse of the temples and palaces to the ring of lush mountains surrounding it to the criss-cross of lanes and bylanes to the colors of Thamel to its incessant rains, Kathmandu’s many hues and colors will always be deeply etched in my memories!Â
Quiz – Just For Fun – WinnersÂ
Mehak was the first one to give all correct answers. Congrats!Â
Other correct entries came from Anks, KJ and Anubha (who got it right the second time; from where did you think of Albela? I like Govinda, but wouldn’t call him ‘superstar of all times’ nor does he have a son in showbiz!)Â
Funny Moment of the Day
Both HT and TOI have carried Sarangi Mahajan’s interview – and both call it ‘exclusive’ and ‘only in’ their paper only! Wonder what the editors will feel seeing their rival cover stories today?
i gotta do my taggie too…. but just not finding the time to 🙁
i absolutely agree that India wud look headless w/o Kashmir… in fact, the map now looks just ccomplete, what with the eastern and western areas forming arms and the southern states resembling a mermaid’s tail!
waise i luv bharvan karela too…. with plain hot yellow dal…yum!!!!
Hey u accepted t :). Let me read 🙂
this is bad…really really bad
was it imp to mention “masaledaar karela with dal, achar n phulkas” 🙁
mummy ke yaad aa rahe hai…Mujhe Doon jaana hai..
this is like one killer combo…which every1 in my family LOVES
Yeah K is considered to be a lucky alphabet…n u’ve given famous examples too 🙂
Kashmir, Kerela..never been to these 2 states
Ohh hints were pretty simple…
What is this there is just nine it should be TEN!!!!.
Nice list.
Kashmir is the place I want to go. Hope one day I will visit.
Karela is also my favorite no matter how you cook it. Fired and cooked in gravy with tomatoes, or simply fried or bharwaN or fried with besan cooked liked fish curry, or boiled and make achar with aloo (Nepali style achar I think you know that) etc. etc. I simply like it. Yesterday night I had it :).
There are few films that I love to see again and again and Kabhee Kabhee is one of them. Yes, most of the songs by Lata di and song by my other fav singer and I like the both version of songs he sang in that film :).
Kathmandu was known answer. 🙂
I’ve tagged so many but only you have accepted it so far. Thank you so much for accepting this tag :D.
ANKS – Yep u hv to update ur blog too 🙂 Jaldi karo!
MEHAK – Arre wah u too like this combo – even Anks mentioned it … Or is it a Punju thing ? 😉
SILKY MOON – I wasnt expecting this many ‘karela’ fans to be there; most of my offline friends dont like it, so i had thought it wasnt this favorite a dish.
This was an interesting tag, thanks for tagging me. But yeah, couldnt find ten, ab itna rules todna toh chalta hai 😛
About the Albela…i knew the movie details…goofed up in the name…also remembered the horriible song…’Ram Pyaari!!!’
as for the K tag…i too want to go to Kashmir…n also for Kashmiri Waazwaan-e-khaas!!! and of course the dal lakae and the shikara…and kabhi kabhi another of my favorite movies and undisputedly Kajol…i too think i need to meet someone who doesnt like her n her acting though there is no reason for doing so! good tag there!!! but good of u to not tag anyone 😛
done!
Kuch nahin to “Kahani” ya “Kavita” likhte, Yaa Kusum Kahete (no yaar, I’m not saying girls names, I mean Story, Poem or Flower :P) kuch nahin mila toh kkkkkkhichadi hee likhte, toh poore dus hoti. ek KUM nahin hoti. Rules toh rules hoti hai na.
Tag accept Kee woh bhee Kanjoosi Karte huye 😉 :P.
K se aur kya bolooN… KahiN “K” lucky walon ko Kaanta na lage :)).
ghar ka khana…muje bhuk lagi hai..i love kajol too 😛
hi dj..talking about food again, I see! 🙂
hey, thanks for your comment…interestin blog….diverse topics…
PS: Watching films is a passion….happy posting
K se kashmir hota hai, K se karela bhi hota hai aur K se Karma bhi hota hai…par K se mere dost Kaush bhi hoti hai 😀 yeh kya naya tag hai? sheeeez I have missed out on a lot in blogsville….sigh
Kitthe ho??? Aur Kya ho raha hai???
ANZ – – Ha ha , yeah i didnt tag anyone. But if u wanna do it, most welcome 😀
ANKS – – Read and Commented
SM – 😀 … just a bit tied up offline … nothing much happening otherwise.
NEETIE – Yep ghar ka khana is best 😀
RS – – Great to see u here after aeons! Yep, talking about food again hehe
ILLUSION – – A warm warm welcome to the blog. Hope to see u as a regular. You will find a lot on films and songs here 🙂
KAUSHIE – Yep bilkul hota hai ! But kya karen , Kaushi aajkal gaayab zyaada rahti hai . Waise, u know u also hv a blog …socha yaad kara doon 😛 This tag is going around lately.
hmmm me???….nah…musibat hai!!! 😛
K se Kaps bhi hota hai! 😛
Hey DJ
Got time to visit your new home. Looks good. 😀
By the way reverse luck ka kuch karo. hahahahahaha
You managed a lot by – “k”. I was barely able to manage 4 by my T 🙁
Anz – He he , darrpok kahiin ki 😛
Kaps – Bilkul ji …waise , aap saare USA waale K-log sab gaayab rahne mein maahir hain
Bhagya – Welcome welcome, warm warm welcome 🙂 Ab aate rahna. Hmm, luck ke liye kuchh bhi karega 😛
Navjot – LOL , true true , T is tougher!
‘K’ is for kyunkii Saans Bhi Kabhie Bahu thii
Saas, Bahu, all that is so gonna be/is a part of your life…. how could u miss it?
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