A Story By Deepak Jeswal
A Story By Deepak Jeswal
“Tum filmein nahin dekhti” cheekily remarks Akshay Kumar whenever he bowls over the prim and propah (well, read not really) British bred heroine with some stereotypical googly. This insouciance and ability to poke fun at one’s own self is extremely heartening and displays immense maturity and confidence on the film makers part. Perhaps the latest spate of overseas success has helped Bollywood shed its fundamentally solemn outlook while giving the most filmi movies; and now it does not take itself too seriously. And all this is paradoxically done keeping every traditional cliche neatly preserved in the script.
Years back, pfizer when Manoj Kumar directed Poorab Aur Paschim he had kept a straight preachy tone. Today, this site Vipul Shah (the director) has inverted that school-masterly intonation to a more friendly banter to present his own version of a similar story. In a crucial patriotic moment, when Akshay Kumar enlists the virtues of India, he doesn’t somberly sing “Hai preet jahan kii reet sada” but simply gives a small monologue, rounding it off saying – tongue firmly in the cheek – that if the British need to know more about the so-called land of snake-charmers they could hire a DVD of Poorab Aur Paschim! Absolutely a brilliant and funny way to put the point across!
Clearly, the film is not meant to be taken seriously, and I am sure Vipul Shah would be embarrassingly shocked if he receives an esoteric review or if someone tries to find subtle meanings and hidden sub-texts in his film. There is no need to exert your gray-cells, for that is not Shah’s purpose.
Built on the premise that you can take an Indian out of India but not the Indianness within him, the film is a light-hearted, fluffy and breezy entertainer, stacked with dollops of humor – some forced but largely genuine laughable moments.
The dialogues are wittily written, and the cinematography is all about bright colors whether in India or abroad. And yes, there’s an excellent shot of Taj Mahal (wish I were here at that time when they canned the scene!). The direction is light, fluffy and fun-tastic.
Both Akshay and Katrina suit their roles. And Katrina’s fragile beauty and the la-di-dah Brit accent charms exceedingly. Upen Patel – as Katrina’s Pakistani friend – has a small role, but is again well-cast. And Rishi Kapoor, the veteran, is absolutely and convincingly delightful! There are the two Brit stars, and thankfully, they aren’t made to speak horrendously accented Hindi – their dialogues carry Hindi subtitles (perhaps, a first in our cinema!).
Himesh Reshammiya’s music is the biggest sore point. The tunes are stale and his voice over the Dolby sound system excruciatingly hurts. Chakna and Rafta rafta could have been enjoyable numbers if he hadn’t sung them.
The film celebrates the current Indian self-assurance to take on the world, keeping all our idiosyncrasies and foibles intact, without being embarrassed or apologetic, and without any extraneous superiority-or-inferiority complex.
So, sit back, pack that pop-corn and Coke, and enjoy the film. You won’t be bored!
Overall Entertaining and Relaxing!
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A Story By Deepak Jeswal
“Tum filmein nahin dekhti” cheekily remarks Akshay Kumar whenever he bowls over the prim and propah (well, read not really) British bred heroine with some stereotypical googly. This insouciance and ability to poke fun at one’s own self is extremely heartening and displays immense maturity and confidence on the film makers part. Perhaps the latest spate of overseas success has helped Bollywood shed its fundamentally solemn outlook while giving the most filmi movies; and now it does not take itself too seriously. And all this is paradoxically done keeping every traditional cliche neatly preserved in the script.
Years back, pfizer when Manoj Kumar directed Poorab Aur Paschim he had kept a straight preachy tone. Today, this site Vipul Shah (the director) has inverted that school-masterly intonation to a more friendly banter to present his own version of a similar story. In a crucial patriotic moment, when Akshay Kumar enlists the virtues of India, he doesn’t somberly sing “Hai preet jahan kii reet sada” but simply gives a small monologue, rounding it off saying – tongue firmly in the cheek – that if the British need to know more about the so-called land of snake-charmers they could hire a DVD of Poorab Aur Paschim! Absolutely a brilliant and funny way to put the point across!
Clearly, the film is not meant to be taken seriously, and I am sure Vipul Shah would be embarrassingly shocked if he receives an esoteric review or if someone tries to find subtle meanings and hidden sub-texts in his film. There is no need to exert your gray-cells, for that is not Shah’s purpose.
Built on the premise that you can take an Indian out of India but not the Indianness within him, the film is a light-hearted, fluffy and breezy entertainer, stacked with dollops of humor – some forced but largely genuine laughable moments.
The dialogues are wittily written, and the cinematography is all about bright colors whether in India or abroad. And yes, there’s an excellent shot of Taj Mahal (wish I were here at that time when they canned the scene!). The direction is light, fluffy and fun-tastic.
Both Akshay and Katrina suit their roles. And Katrina’s fragile beauty and the la-di-dah Brit accent charms exceedingly. Upen Patel – as Katrina’s Pakistani friend – has a small role, but is again well-cast. And Rishi Kapoor, the veteran, is absolutely and convincingly delightful! There are the two Brit stars, and thankfully, they aren’t made to speak horrendously accented Hindi – their dialogues carry Hindi subtitles (perhaps, a first in our cinema!).
Himesh Reshammiya’s music is the biggest sore point. The tunes are stale and his voice over the Dolby sound system excruciatingly hurts. Chakna and Rafta rafta could have been enjoyable numbers if he hadn’t sung them.
The film celebrates the current Indian self-assurance to take on the world, keeping all our idiosyncrasies and foibles intact, without being embarrassed or apologetic, and without any extraneous superiority-or-inferiority complex.
So, sit back, pack that pop-corn and Coke, and enjoy the film. You won’t be bored!
Overall Entertaining and Relaxing!
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In his weekly column in a leading national daily, prosthesis eminent writer and UN diplomat Shashi Tharoor has emotionally implored the nation’s women to save the sari from possible extinction. I echo his sentiments.
Since childhood I have a strong fascination for the sari – not that I indulge in some secret and perverse pleasure in (cross) dressing in them, pestilence but it is the sari’s visual appeal which fuels the fascination. Possibly, pestilence this attraction stems from watching Sridevi cavorting in bright red and blue chiffon saris in Jaanbaaz and Mr. India respectively, during my growing up years. And then all those Yash Chopra romantic films further cemented their allure. Today, the sari has reinvented itself into a style statement, but still I find a Sushmita Sen much more enticing in Mai Hoon Na than her corporate suits in various other films. And the sari lent a unique appeal to Aishwarya Rai’s tall and skinny frame in the second half of Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam. In the earlier generation, Rakhee was a huge favorite, and despite having a body that most heroines today would scoff at, she was an epitome of polish and poise and possibly with the widest collection of saris.
As Tharoor almost endorses my own thoughts, “the sari is an outfit in which a lady of any size and shape look extremely elegant and graceful you could never be too fat, too short or too ungainly to look good in a sari,” he writes. “Indeed if you were stout, or bowlegged, or thick-waisted, nothing concealed those handicaps of nature better than the sari.” I second his opinion.
My mother always wore saris and she attended some top diplomatic functions in them, always a symbol of elegance and dignity. So some years back, after dad s retirement, when she found a new obsession in Punjabi salvar suits, I was visibly aghast. And I protested quite vocally. Thankfully, she still finds saris more comfortable, especially in summers and has reserved the suits only for winters, packing them off when the mercury climbs. I find her matronly, plump and extremely loving frame accentuated by the lovely Indian dress. And the same plumpness assumes a gross and ungainly expression when she wears the suit.
In my own stories I try to keep the heroine dressed in a sari. In my biggest story on this blog, The Independence Day, the heroine (Naina) wore one for a large bulk of the story, sparking off a row of comments by Anks wondering why Naina would dress so, especially since she is shown to stay in the US for a long time, and more so since she has to embark on an important mission. But that s how I had visualized the character, and frankly, during writing, much of Naina’s appeal would have been lost had she not worn a sari. In WTHMTE, the scene where Mamta rips off her pallu challenging the hero to ravage her would have impossibly lost that raw and wild energy had she been in any other attire. And then there is – forgive me for sounding a bit voyeuristic – a heightened sexiness in unfolding the layers of the sari during love-making, which simply cannot be matched by the antiseptic taking off of, for example, a suit or shirt.
If draped properly the sari gives its own character to the wearer. It is a dress where numerous permutations and combinations of designs and colors are permittable, since the visible portion is large and uninterrupted by any creases or cuts. Indeed, the pallu itself can be a strong statement if neatly pinned over the shoulder, in tight folds, it presents a no-nonsense look; if loosely draped, it imparts a careless casualness; if rounded over the back and tucked at the waist, it shows a woman ready to take on the task with single minded devotion; and – in film and story context – just a pallu hung loose and unfolded can convey the emotional blankness much more than any dialogue would!
I know I am romanticizing it all and can almost feel the ladies reading this seething and muttering harshly that I wouldn’t know the uncomfortable impracticalities involved in wearing the apparel in daily routine life. In fact, Tharoor also quotes a lady saying: “Try rushing to catch a bus in a sari, and you’ll switch to jeans the next day.” And possibly that’s why the sari is nearly fading away from everyday lives especially in the cities. I accept the arguments, and admittedly, they are logical and practical as well.
But my appeal, and Tharoor’s as well, to the modern Indian women is that please do not just relegate this beautiful dress only for celebrations and weddings; I am sure a middle way can be found where a day in a week (or a month at least) can be kept to keep the rush out, and possibly relax in a sari I am sure one day in a month wouldn’t be too tough, would it? Let it not be a rare and exotic dress in its own land.
As Tharoor ends his piece, so do I – “Perhaps its time to appeal to the women of India to save the sari from a sorry fate.”
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A Story By Deepak Jeswal
“Tum filmein nahin dekhti” cheekily remarks Akshay Kumar whenever he bowls over the prim and propah (well, read not really) British bred heroine with some stereotypical googly. This insouciance and ability to poke fun at one’s own self is extremely heartening and displays immense maturity and confidence on the film makers part. Perhaps the latest spate of overseas success has helped Bollywood shed its fundamentally solemn outlook while giving the most filmi movies; and now it does not take itself too seriously. And all this is paradoxically done keeping every traditional cliche neatly preserved in the script.
Years back, pfizer when Manoj Kumar directed Poorab Aur Paschim he had kept a straight preachy tone. Today, this site Vipul Shah (the director) has inverted that school-masterly intonation to a more friendly banter to present his own version of a similar story. In a crucial patriotic moment, when Akshay Kumar enlists the virtues of India, he doesn’t somberly sing “Hai preet jahan kii reet sada” but simply gives a small monologue, rounding it off saying – tongue firmly in the cheek – that if the British need to know more about the so-called land of snake-charmers they could hire a DVD of Poorab Aur Paschim! Absolutely a brilliant and funny way to put the point across!
Clearly, the film is not meant to be taken seriously, and I am sure Vipul Shah would be embarrassingly shocked if he receives an esoteric review or if someone tries to find subtle meanings and hidden sub-texts in his film. There is no need to exert your gray-cells, for that is not Shah’s purpose.
Built on the premise that you can take an Indian out of India but not the Indianness within him, the film is a light-hearted, fluffy and breezy entertainer, stacked with dollops of humor – some forced but largely genuine laughable moments.
The dialogues are wittily written, and the cinematography is all about bright colors whether in India or abroad. And yes, there’s an excellent shot of Taj Mahal (wish I were here at that time when they canned the scene!). The direction is light, fluffy and fun-tastic.
Both Akshay and Katrina suit their roles. And Katrina’s fragile beauty and the la-di-dah Brit accent charms exceedingly. Upen Patel – as Katrina’s Pakistani friend – has a small role, but is again well-cast. And Rishi Kapoor, the veteran, is absolutely and convincingly delightful! There are the two Brit stars, and thankfully, they aren’t made to speak horrendously accented Hindi – their dialogues carry Hindi subtitles (perhaps, a first in our cinema!).
Himesh Reshammiya’s music is the biggest sore point. The tunes are stale and his voice over the Dolby sound system excruciatingly hurts. Chakna and Rafta rafta could have been enjoyable numbers if he hadn’t sung them.
The film celebrates the current Indian self-assurance to take on the world, keeping all our idiosyncrasies and foibles intact, without being embarrassed or apologetic, and without any extraneous superiority-or-inferiority complex.
So, sit back, pack that pop-corn and Coke, and enjoy the film. You won’t be bored!
Overall Entertaining and Relaxing!
Powered by Zoundry
In his weekly column in a leading national daily, prosthesis eminent writer and UN diplomat Shashi Tharoor has emotionally implored the nation’s women to save the sari from possible extinction. I echo his sentiments.
Since childhood I have a strong fascination for the sari – not that I indulge in some secret and perverse pleasure in (cross) dressing in them, pestilence but it is the sari’s visual appeal which fuels the fascination. Possibly, pestilence this attraction stems from watching Sridevi cavorting in bright red and blue chiffon saris in Jaanbaaz and Mr. India respectively, during my growing up years. And then all those Yash Chopra romantic films further cemented their allure. Today, the sari has reinvented itself into a style statement, but still I find a Sushmita Sen much more enticing in Mai Hoon Na than her corporate suits in various other films. And the sari lent a unique appeal to Aishwarya Rai’s tall and skinny frame in the second half of Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam. In the earlier generation, Rakhee was a huge favorite, and despite having a body that most heroines today would scoff at, she was an epitome of polish and poise and possibly with the widest collection of saris.
As Tharoor almost endorses my own thoughts, “the sari is an outfit in which a lady of any size and shape look extremely elegant and graceful you could never be too fat, too short or too ungainly to look good in a sari,” he writes. “Indeed if you were stout, or bowlegged, or thick-waisted, nothing concealed those handicaps of nature better than the sari.” I second his opinion.
My mother always wore saris and she attended some top diplomatic functions in them, always a symbol of elegance and dignity. So some years back, after dad s retirement, when she found a new obsession in Punjabi salvar suits, I was visibly aghast. And I protested quite vocally. Thankfully, she still finds saris more comfortable, especially in summers and has reserved the suits only for winters, packing them off when the mercury climbs. I find her matronly, plump and extremely loving frame accentuated by the lovely Indian dress. And the same plumpness assumes a gross and ungainly expression when she wears the suit.
In my own stories I try to keep the heroine dressed in a sari. In my biggest story on this blog, The Independence Day, the heroine (Naina) wore one for a large bulk of the story, sparking off a row of comments by Anks wondering why Naina would dress so, especially since she is shown to stay in the US for a long time, and more so since she has to embark on an important mission. But that s how I had visualized the character, and frankly, during writing, much of Naina’s appeal would have been lost had she not worn a sari. In WTHMTE, the scene where Mamta rips off her pallu challenging the hero to ravage her would have impossibly lost that raw and wild energy had she been in any other attire. And then there is – forgive me for sounding a bit voyeuristic – a heightened sexiness in unfolding the layers of the sari during love-making, which simply cannot be matched by the antiseptic taking off of, for example, a suit or shirt.
If draped properly the sari gives its own character to the wearer. It is a dress where numerous permutations and combinations of designs and colors are permittable, since the visible portion is large and uninterrupted by any creases or cuts. Indeed, the pallu itself can be a strong statement if neatly pinned over the shoulder, in tight folds, it presents a no-nonsense look; if loosely draped, it imparts a careless casualness; if rounded over the back and tucked at the waist, it shows a woman ready to take on the task with single minded devotion; and – in film and story context – just a pallu hung loose and unfolded can convey the emotional blankness much more than any dialogue would!
I know I am romanticizing it all and can almost feel the ladies reading this seething and muttering harshly that I wouldn’t know the uncomfortable impracticalities involved in wearing the apparel in daily routine life. In fact, Tharoor also quotes a lady saying: “Try rushing to catch a bus in a sari, and you’ll switch to jeans the next day.” And possibly that’s why the sari is nearly fading away from everyday lives especially in the cities. I accept the arguments, and admittedly, they are logical and practical as well.
But my appeal, and Tharoor’s as well, to the modern Indian women is that please do not just relegate this beautiful dress only for celebrations and weddings; I am sure a middle way can be found where a day in a week (or a month at least) can be kept to keep the rush out, and possibly relax in a sari I am sure one day in a month wouldn’t be too tough, would it? Let it not be a rare and exotic dress in its own land.
As Tharoor ends his piece, so do I – “Perhaps its time to appeal to the women of India to save the sari from a sorry fate.”
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Chokho Jeeman is a Marwari/Jain Restaurant, thumb on the road leading to Agra’s significant Raja-Ki-Mandi Railway Station, at Delhi Gate, next to Moon TV Network’s office.
Even though I had heard of it earlier, but I visited the place very late, only last Sunday when a friend and colleague took me there for dinner. The restaurant impressed me enough to visit it again this Saturday, and also to write this review.
Ambience – Excellent! The place is done up with Rajasthani motifs, the brown walls plastered to give an effect of a hut, with intense red and pure white hand painted traditional designs bordering them. At regular intervals Rajasthani dolls and urns are placed to add to the effect. The tables are made of solid bamboo. In addition, they play Rajasthani folk music.
Cleanliness scores a huge point. And all places, be it the bathroom or the washbasin is neatly marked in traditional labels. The only low point is the small space a narrow sliver with two rows of tables.
Food – Delicious! The restaurant works on thaali system, and it offers three options saada thali, ghee thali and Maharaja thaali, all offering unlimited servings. Both times I visited, I ordered the bulky Maharaja thaali and they were extremely fulfilling. Maharaja thaali presents five variety of sabzis (dahi kadi, daal, aloo ki sabzi, matar-paneer and one more traditional variety, usually papad ki sabzi or gatte ki sabzi) along with raita, salad, aachaar, chutney, rice and two sweets. Of course, the rotis including missi roti, dipped liberally in ghee, are unlimited, as also refill of any of the sabzis that you wish.
The taste is wonderful and exciting, not very spicy and the generous use of ghee adds value. The quantity is truly befitting a Maharaja and often a second helping of the sabzis becomes immaterial.
Value for money– Absolutely! At INR 75 the Maharaja Thaali couldn t be better priced. And at INR 50 and 60 respectively, both the Saada Thaali and Ghee Thaali are also modestly priced.
Service – Quick and Efficient! Waiters move about effortlessly, attired in earthy Rajasthani outfits, ready to serve at the slightest gesture.
Overall – A must visit when you are next in Agraand come with an empty stomach, and prepare to skip the next meal!
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Reminded me of Raajdhani here in Mumbai. Similar stuff.
Yeh acha nahin kara…
I have heard a lot about this Bhojnalaya, eagerly waiting to visit there some day. You have just fueled the fire buddy !
Hi Dj, Mouth watering review/post. Just yummy!
Nice review, but I can stand the number of Rajasthani varieties in these Thalis. So many variety just kill the taste, and all just taste the same. And so lavish Ghee and all – ouch!
Anks – Ohki, hvnt tried Rajdhani as yet…
Mehak – Maine kuchh nahi kiya – i had set the post on auto-publish…just came here now to check the comments 🙂
Praney – Zarur aayeyiga…be my guest 😀
Vidya – 😀 Thx…
Manish – Oh i luv the dripping ghee 😉
if you have a penchant for marwadi cuisine – Try “Daal-Battee” marwadi dish too, it’s awesome!
arrey itne bhook lage yeh post padh kar…ke poocho mat…
I’m saying the food is not deliciouse and the service is not good… – Angoor Khatta hai… yeh kahawat yaad hai na :P…
without reading it…. because ….Today is Ram Nawami and you have posted a post on Restaurant and food!!!! Gurrrrrrrrrr kitkit…………
khana hi nahin apitu padhana bhi mana hai 😛
Kheer-puri bani ki nahin 🙂 😛 Last year toh bahut swadist pakwan pake the 😉
Happy Ram Nawami…
DJ
Your post has opened my apetite. I order those thalis whenever I visit Indian restaurants here in Atlanta, but the taste originally I found in India is not there. Anyway, great post. Thanx and rgds.
Hey I forgot a question: What is the meaning of CHOKHO JEEMAN?
Damm you man!
dang it DJ! write this for the local newspaper and get money from the restaurant! okay now reading the blog in detail..just skimmed through the first time!
yum! Couldnt make it to nepal..but I think I need to make it to agra!
waise it sounds pathetic but is your address still the same..just wanted to confirm!
Well, what a coincidence ! Here, at Orange County, California, theres an Indian hub called Artesia. We found out a Indian restaurant there named the Rajdhaani and serves exactly the same kind of food that you have mentioned. We go there every weekend, have a huge meal , skip everything else and doze off !
I like the place and wish it was closer our apartment instead of the 20 min ride that we have to take every time ….
Pratik – Oh yes, I ‘ve had Daal Baati Churma often 🙂
Mehak – Ha ha , yahan aa jaao, Chokho Jeeman chaltein hain…
Juneli – he he , chalo aaj padh lena… Well, since i hvnt set up kitchen here, this time no poori-chana-halwa made at home…but a colleague had got all those goodies on Ashthami , bhar pet khayaa
Harshadji – Have to check the exact meaning of Chokho Jeeman, will do so and inform soon.
Sugz – LOL
Kaushi – Tum aao toh sahi , bahut saari aur jagah hain yahan pe… BTW, my address is the same that i sent for Agra…
Prakash – Yep, the thaalis are damn filling. Good to see Indian food easily available in USA.
“Chokho Jeeman”..the name says it all.That was ‘the’ perfect review about the most perfect place for eating out in agra.But r u sure about the prices?maharaja thali is priced at Rs. 90..i guess,which is also quite reasonable though.And for those who r allergic to ghee,they also offer this saada thali,which includes dry chapaaties,n also not that large variety of sabzis..with lesser ghee.N DJ,have u noticed those beautiful lanterns..n the traditional maroon wooden frame mirror above the washbasin?
Since u are a recent visitor to chokho jeeman,u wouldnt perhaps be knowing that it used to b a single hall,air-cooled place until a few months ago.N was majorly used by the people visiting agra on business or company tours..obviously coz of its vicinity to the RKM rly. station n its low prices.But as they say,quality speaks for itself n soon it became popular with the local agraites..and what u see now,is its latest renovated version..thats not just air-conditioned..but also equipped with an RO plant..brand new interiors n the newly attached bigger hall clearly state the success story of ‘chokho jeeman’.. literally meaning delightful eating in marwadi.
Taarika – Hey, thanks sooo much for filling in all the details. And I m dead sure about the prices, since i recently paid for them 😀
Yep, i noticed all those little touches about wooden frames and lanterns…
ok..may b the additional Rs. 15 was for the chhaachh..i recall.