Kaminey- The Critique

Kaminey has easily been the best reviewed movie of recent times among the Bollywood lot. Almost all the reviewers have been unanimous in their rating of the movie, and have been unabashed in their praises. Clearly, everyone seems to agree that Vishal Bharadwaj has a masterpiece on his hands. And Shahid Kapoor has arrived.

Amidst all the euphoria and with great expectations, I watched Kaminey here in Singapore. Incidentally, this is my first movie in a theatre here for over a year, thanks to our little son who threatens to embarrass us every time we attempt to parade him in public.

Since the plot and the characters have been described in lurid details in myriad reviews, I’ll save myself and the readers the trouble. Instead, I’ll play the critic.

The movie, undoubtedly, is in a genre of its own. Or if you include Hollywood, this would be the Quentin Tarantino genre. Slick, crisp, pacy, hard-hitting and very contemporary. The movie runs at such a frenetic pace that you don’t want to even sneak out for a toilet break, lest you miss the excitement. Shahid Kapoor as the lisping Charlie is a revelation. His “mein fuh ko fuh bolta hu” is seriously funny, because of the nonchalant dialogue delivery. The character has a certain consistency which very few other Bollywood characters have had. Including his twin brother Guddu, the stutterer.

Guddu, at times, seems to forget his stutter, and cannot convey his angst effectively enough to convince the audience why he detested girls “because they made fun of him”. And Priyanka Chopra’s Sweety, as sweet as she is, seems contrived in her attempt to pretence-stutter to gain Guddu’s love. The whole sub-plot seems inane. Especially Guddu ranting away on Sweety soon after their marriage when he discovers she never really had a stuttering problem.

Despite these minor shortcomings, the movie manages to keep the audience’s glued to their seats, thanks to the eclectic mix of characters that contribute to the plots. Tope Bhau as the gangster-aspiring-to-be-politician is an interesting take on the Raj Thackeray brand of “Marathi Manoos” politics. The Portuguese (or was he Latino?) drug lord and his African henchmen, at best, add to the melee in the end. The Bengali brothers provide some twisted humor, and also jump in to the fray along with everyone else, and their dads, in a “Priyadarshanesque” climax. Which I personally felt let down by.

All in all, a dark movie in the Tarantino mould, with in-your-face dialogues and dance-along music, aided by a sharp story-telling style and crisp editing. If only the director had resisted the temptation to make caricatures of the characters, and cleaned up the cluttered plot just a bit, Kaminey could have gone beyond being just a good film and qualified for a classic.

Alas, it doesn’t, and you come out of the theatre with an empty feeling.

My verdict- Kaminey is like a racy One Night Stand. Been there, done that, walked away, blanked it out.

Michael Jackson- The Legend

As I saw the news flash at the Breakfast Buffet on the 26th June about Michael Jackson's death, I went blank for a moment since this was truly shocking. But that momentary feeling of loss passed, and I continued with my hectic activities for the day. I was in Chennai for a series of meetings and seminars, and I had too much on my mind to keep me occupied. That, and also the fact that my memories of MJ had, over the years, been relegated to my subconscious mind.

Over the next couple of days, the media went berserk with tributes and dedications to Michael, bringing back the memories from the days when Michael Jackson was a God. Slowly, but surely, the memories that long been banished to the lesser used confines of my mind assumed center-stage. And then it all started coming back.

The King was Dead. Gone forever. Gone too soon.

As a child growing up in the 80’s, I couldn’t escape the Michael Jackson magic despite the fact that I spent most of my early life in a non-descript town with absolutely no exposure to any Western influence, including music.

The year was 1989. One of my friends had accidentally found a 100 rupee bill in the community garbage bin, and to avoid being found out, he was desperate to spend it all the same day. As his partner in crime, I got to accompany him in his spending spree. After treating ourselves to all the chocolates and cool drinks that we could have, we headed to the HMV House to spend the rest of the loot on buying English music cassettes. As we made into the shop and were approached by the store salesman, the only name that came to our minds was Michael Jackson. He was the only name that we knew, since we had heard the older kids in school talk about how “bad” his music was.

We bought “Bad”, and it felt good. After a couple of days of incessant replays of the tape, it felt great. Soon, we were hooked. MJ was God.

During the next 7 years, I must have heard “Thriller”, “Bad” and “Dangerous” at least a few thousand times each. And I truly believed Michael was incomparable. With the advent of Satellite TV in India, MTV made its way into our houses. The very first MTV transmission that I saw way back in December 1991 was, incidentally, the “Black or White” video. The video simply blew my mind. Subsequently, there were new videos from the "Dangerous" album released every 2 months, and I remember staying glued to the TV for hours before an impending new video release for bragging rights next day in school.

When MTV ran a Michael Jackson month in 1993 culminating in a Top 25 Michael Jackson hits, I remember opting out of the rare family get-together at a fine-dining restaurant, not wanting to miss the "Smooth Criminal" video which was aired only on very special occasions. Watching him do the vampire act in “Thriller” or the magician in “Remember the Time” video was truly “edge of the seat” television. The “Smooth Criminal” song and the “Moon Walker” short movie rank as the best ever music video ever made. The 45 degree lean, and the Moon Walk were sheer genius. Those were heady days if you were a MJ fan.

As the years passed, and as my exposure to Western music diversified, I discovered other genres of music which were more fashionable and eclectic, and therefore, Michael had gradually been banished to the archives, and no longer figured in my playlist. Michael Jackson, by then, had also started getting embroiled in the child-molestation scandals, which further alienated him from popular mainstream. His musical career, despite the occasional chartbusters like "Earth Song" and "Blood on the dance floor", had been on the wane, and he was nowhere near as popular as he was during the heydays in the 80s. Most of his albums after "Dangerous" were commercial failures, and the recurring child-molestation allegations exacerbated the situation for Michael further. The tabloids, as always, loved the controversy, and Michael's increasingly odd behavior further fuelled the controversy. Very soon, the media had successfully branded MJ an "oddity that you should protect your kids from".

Although the courts acquitted Michael of the charges of child molestation, Michael was always on trial in the media. And the constant pressure eventually caught up with Michael, and he started to crumble. His face too. The countless plastic surgeries, the nose that just wouldn’t stay stuck, the speculation about the real father of his kids, the failed marriages- everything just seemed to fall apart for Michael.

Unfortunately, the fans that swore undying loyalty, yours truly included, during his hey days simply stopped caring. Although most of us deep down believed that Michael was never guilty of all the child molestation crimes that he was accused of, we just didn’t care to come out in support. And the media, therefore, hounded Michael till it drove him to a drug overdose (unless investigations reveal otherwise) and a tragic death.

The fans, ironically, came out in support of Michael at his funeral in what was probably the biggest spectacle in recent times, bringing an entire city to a halt. The various home videos of Michael playing with Prince Jr, Paris and Blanket, that found their way to YouTube after his death, showed a side of Michael that would have significantly swayed public opinion on his side if only they had been released when he was alive.

Alas, that was not to be, and a beautiful talent just wasted away. The legend, however, lives on.

And I'm sure, in some other world, he is making music in his own special way.

The Pursuit of Happiness

All your life, you struggle and strive to achieve your goals. And you think that, and only that, is the key to happiness.

You set lofty targets for yourself, and spend your entire youth slogging your butt and selling your soul to get there. For happiness awaits you there, or so you believe.

You forget to stop and smell the roses. You don’t have time for a whiff of fresh air. A casual stroll in the evening is too much time wasted.

An evening with the folks is an opportunity cost.

If you are not living on the edge, you sincerely believe you are wasting too much space.

Relationships are transactional for you, and you do whatever is necessary to keep them alive. Barely.

And finally, you reach there. The happy place.

But alas, there is no happiness that you feel. You are contented. There is certainly relief. But no happiness.

And then you realize happiness does not await you at the destination. It was with you all along the journey. You realize that it is not about the pursuit of happiness, but it's about the happiness in the pursuit.

Every day you come home to a healthy family, you came home to happiness.

Every time you hold your little kid in your arms, you embrace happiness.

Every morning that you wake up to a little kid sitting on your chest with a wide smile revealing all of his 6 teeth, you wake up to happiness.

Every evening that you return home to see your loved ones waiting for you, you come home to happiness.

I know I have many goals to work for. I know some of those I will achieve. And some I won’t.

But I know I am happy. Truly, madly, deeply. Thank you. Amen.

Shantaram- by Gregory David Roberts

 I finally managed to devour all the 933 pages of “Shantaram”, the “autobiography” of Gregory David Roberts. If it was even 80% true story, the man is a miracle. Regardless, it is a very well written book, and as long as one doesn’t get too hung up on the veracity of the true accounts that the author narrates, it makes for fantastic reading.

 Gregory Roberts, known as Lin on the streets of Mumbai, was an escaped Australian convict, who found a home in Mumbai, where he could finally live a free life. During his years in Mumbai, he made many friends and several enemies, and lost quite a few of them. He also found true love, and lost it to the bitter games that were played in the Mafia background. He worked for the Mumbai mafia, but claimed to have never joined them since he did what he did for the people he believed in, rather than the cause that they represented. The book details Lin’s journey from his arrival in Mumbai, to his life in the Slums and his role as the slum doctor, his tryst with the Mujahideen movement in Afghanistan, and finally, his role in establishing the new Mafia in Mumbai. The last chapter, and the closing lines, hints at Lin’s disillusionment with the Mafia life, and his craving to return to his loved ones.

 Apart from the plot, what really makes it a worthy read are the little embellishments, the attention to detail, and the author’s way with words. “Shantaram” paints a surreal picture of Mumbai in the 1980s, through its plot and the various characters that appear at many points in the story. The Foreigners that thronged to the elite Leopolds and the slum dwellers have both been accorded equally significant roles in the plot. The drug culture and the Mafia rule during those dark days in the 80s have been beautifully described in near-graphic details. Each character in the story has a distinct personality, and the author paints such a vivid picture that you can almost visualize the characters in life. The character of Prabhakar, the lovable city guide-cum-Taxi driver-cum-best friend, is easily, the most memorable and interesting one. Karla Saaranen, the Swiss-German with a mysterious past, is another fantastic character in the story. Karla has some of the best lines and is easily, the most quotable. Sample this for Karla’s one liners – “Life gives you two choices, the one you should make, and the one you do”, or this - “Luck is what happens to you when fate gets tired of waiting”. Quotable, indeed!

 One of the sub-plots revolves around the Afghan Mujahideen movement during the cold war era, when the Afghans, with guerilla support from the CIA, went to war against the invading Russians. It evokes a deep sense of irony, due to the stark contrast with the current situation where the US is struggling to contain the terrorism emanating from the Afghanistan- Pakistan axis of evil. One is tempted to brand it as poetic justice considering the Americans are reaping what they had sowed years ago. Unfortunately, the whole world, and that includes innocent American civilians, are paying the price for the poor judgment from the powers that were in those Cold War years.  

 Remarkably, despite being a fictional autobiography of a reformed convict, there are some really profound concepts of philosophy and theology that have been discussed in the book. The Resolution Theory that Khader Bhai, the Mafia don and Lin’s Godfather, uses to explain his philosophy of life, and of all things Good and Bad, leaves an impact. The concept of the universe continuously moving towards increasing complexity, with the ultimate complexity being God, is fascinating. He also uses it to lend objectivity to the concepts of Right and Wrong. As per the theory, anything that helps move towards this ultimate complexity is good, and anything that inhibits it is bad. Simple, and yet, fascinating. Khader also delves into the concepts of “crime” and “sin”, and questions why the law-makers and enforcers are obsessed with the “Crime in the Sin”, rather than the “Sin in the crime”.

 He intelligently ties the two concepts, and explains why, as a Mafia don, he has to do the wrong things for the right reasons.

 The book, however, has its flaws. The author tries really hard to make it seem like a true account of the tumultuous years of his life, and in the process, robs the story of its credibility. Despite being involved in many gang wars and of course, the war in Afghanistan, the author constantly claims that he has never killed another human. More than the claim, it is the continuous emphasis on the claim that robs it of its authenticity. The author also clearly reserves the moral high ground for himself, and is always shown to be the most virtuous, in a Bollywood Hero-like way.

 There is another improbable sub-plot about a crazed killer who calls himself SAPNA, and goes around the city chopping people up and leaving notes written in blood to claim the kill. While “Jack the Ripper” was a true story, the SAPNA character in this story is half-baked and delusional and is, at best, a poor distraction.

In conclusion, if you have a lot of time at hand, and are game for an engaging journey into the Mumbai of the 1980s, “Shantaram” is just the book for you. It is not perfect, and might not even be a near-true story, but still makes for compelling reading due to the graphic story-telling style of the author, and the roller-coaster ride that it takes you on.

Shantaram, incidentally, was the name given to the protagonist by Prabhakar’s mother, who he comes to love as his own, and is symbolic of a man trying to make peace with his inner demons. In the end, Lin does become “Shantaram”.

 

 

The Pink Brigade

I was pleasantly surprised at how popular the “Consortium of Pub-going, Loose and Forward Women” had become on the internet forums and Social Networking websites. “Pleasantly” not because I advocate the cause, but because it shows that the Indian Woman has finally come of age.  She is not afraid to express herself on a public forum, even if it means she has to abase herself as “loose”.

Many of my women friends, from academic and professional circles, have been very vocal in their support for the cause and have proudly proclaimed that they went to a pub on V-day and got themselves drunk silly. And that they sent a clear message to the Shri Ram Sena (SRS) that Indian women are not going to be confined to the age-old traditions of Hindutva by sending their “pink chaddis” to the SRS. That they are no longer a homely,  demure and soft-spoken tribe. As opposed to that, they are now a pub-going, loose and forward tribe. Cause for celebration..yippeee!

On a more pragmatic note, the Shri Ram Sena may have been wrong in their methods. They had no business to raid a pub and drive out the women inside. Most of us educated folks do drop in to a pub occasionally, along with our lady friends/partners. That does not make us any less civilized or anti-hindu. And if they are making such a generalization about all pub-going people, they deserve to be chided. And banned,  probably. However, based on what I have read, they were targeting the particular pub as it was known to be a popular drug–cum-pickup joint. And despite complaints to the police, no action was taken.  And therefore, SRS decided to take the law in its own hands.  These are two sides of the story, and therefore, opinions will always be divided.

The media, however, just reveled in yet another opportunity to prove just how bad the Hindus are, and how they are “Talibanizing” India. And the BJP government in Karnataka also had to receive a lot of flak for letting organizations such as SRS flourish in its regime. The public, and more specifically the “Intelligentsia” (you know the educated, pseudo-secular types), came out in support vociferously, asking for the SRS to be banned, among many other demands.

One of the other demands, of course, was the “Consortium blah blah”. And the pink chaddi campaign that followed thereafter. Interestingly, a couple of years ago, an author of international repute, a lady at that, was abused, attacked, molested and threatened with dire consequences if she ever dared to step in India again by a Hyderabad based political organization that works for the betterment of a “minority” community. The Indian government, led by the mighty Congress, cancelled her visa and asked her to leave the country immediately since her presence was disturbing the otherwise peaceful life for this “minority” community. To my knowledge, there were no such Consortium of Pub-going or Pink-chaddi throwing women that raised any voice against this episode.

What’s my point? Well, it is easy to raise a voice against a community that is civilized. Quoting from a recent Life Insurance ad, “Safety hai to sab hero”! But when it comes to standing up against a militant community, Ignorance is bliss. And inaction is a sign of protest, maybe?

Well, the Indian Intelligentsia has always baffled me. But then, I was never very bright.

Wanted: male/handsome/Dead for not less than 250 years

A few months ago, I came upon an interesting business model. In many ways, this was making money out of nothing. Yes, it is related to faith.

I have this fascination for spirituality and religion, and during one of my explorations, I chanced upon a Buddhist monastery within the central business district of Singapore. For fear of inviting the wrath of certain people with vested interests, I will not reveal any further details about the whereabouts of this place.

Now here is the interesting business model. The monastery makes money out of match-making and wedding ceremonies. What is so unique about that, you may ask. Well, it is unique since the match-making and wedding services are offered, not to young men and women, but to spirits of dead ancestors!

According to ancient Chinese/ Buddhist beliefs, there is a clear hierarchy in the spirit world, and one of the key determinants of where a particular ancestor lies in the hierarchy is his or her marital status. It is believed that, in the spirit world, only the married spirits are allowed to sit at the dinner table, while the unmarried ones have to wait for leftovers. As such, it is not spiritually fulfilling if you are an unmarried ghost!

And so our friends at the monastery offered this unique service of helping such under-privileged spirits move up the hierarchy, and take their rightful place at the dinner table. They contact families of people who died single, and convince them that their dead ancestor needs their help. And thus the database is built. Subsequently, they scan their database of dead people, to find ideal spiritual partners based on the exact specification of the family of a dead ancestor. Once the match is found, and both families have mutually consented to the wedding, the monastery then arranges for the holy matrimony. Soon after, the spirits, as the monastery will tell you, are happily married and enjoying a feast.

Some key benefits of this model:

• The sample set to choose your partners from is much wider than in the real world due to the fact that spirits don’t have to be of the same generation. So essentially, your great-great-grand uncle might marry my great-great-great-great-great-not-so-great-grand aunt, and yet not complain that he married an old hag.
• If you do not have royal ancestry, it is not too late. Just find an unmarried ancestor’s spirit and get him/her married to a dead royal. And you have blue-blood flowing in your veins. Just like that!
• With the number of married spirits increasing, there will be fewer and fewer spirits that have to survive on leftovers from the dinner table. As a direct consequence, there will be fewer hungry spirits that will transcend the spiritual world into the real world in search of food.

While I cannot confirm on the fees that the monastery levies for such unique services, I am guessing that it must be rather handsome considering that the monastery has been flourishing for a little over a hundred years now.

On a lighter note, any guesses what the menu at the heavenly feast could comprise of?
“Ghosht and Spirits”

Lost in Translation

This past weekend I happened to log on to my Gtalk from my personal laptop at home. Mind you this is a rare privilege granted to me by my wife, who seems to think that marriage gives her complete ownership of my assets and vice versa. That explains why she is always seen with the laptop, while I toy around with the dishes.

Coming back to the original context, as soon as I logged on to Gtalk, my sister-in-law (co-sister, if you are in India, and subscribe to immaculate Indian English) pinged me and quickly typed in a few standard pleasantries. Knowing how challenged she is when it comes to typing at high speeds, I am sure she must have a ready list of pleasantries that she copies and pastes when she wants to make polite conversation with people who don’t really matter. And despite having married her sister, I still qualify for the “people who don’t really matter”.

So after a couple of standard exchanges for the sake of formality, she ordered me to pass a message to my wife to come online. I promptly did so, and while the lady was taking her time to put on a few layers of make-up due to the impending Webcam session, I stayed on just in case the SIL needed company. And here is how the conversation went:

SIL:” So when are you planning to come to India?”
Me: “Soon. Hopefully, we can move back to India for good”
SIL: “Why? Don’t you like Singapore?”
Me: “I am not particularly fond of the place, though there is nothing to hate about it. But with the baby around, I’d prefer to have an extended family for support”
SIL: “Ok, bye”
Me: ”Bye”

Moments later, my wife logs in, and here is the chat trail:

Wife: “Hi”
SIL: ”Are you going through financial crisis?”
Wife: “No. Why?”
SIL: “Your husband wants to move to India because he wants financial support from his in-laws”
Wife: “Damn. Why did I let him out of the kitchen? @#$@@”
SIL: “Tell him we can find him a good job, but not to ask money from in-laws”
Wife: “Sure. Thanks. Bye”

Since then, I have had to sign a restraining order, that I will stay at least 50 feet away from the laptop, and that I will never respond to any messages from any of my wife’s relatives.

Taare Zameen Par - Definitely Watchable

Last night I watched Aamir Khan’s directorial debut “Taare Zameen Par”, and I can’t stop gushing about it. Easily, it is one of the best movies made in recent times. And kudos to Aamir for letting the kid walk away with all the credit, and underplaying his superstar status very carefully. It takes a lit of humility to rise beyond one’s superstardom and let someone else shine in the spotlight, and Aamir, through TZP, has done just that.

TZP is a very sensitively made movie that highlights the plight of kids who are constantly under pressure to achieve their parents’ ambitions. Darsheel Safary, the kid who essays the role of the dyslexic Ishan, is truly a revelation, and is easily, as Aamir Khan himself claimed, one of the best actors to have graced Bollywood. A lot of reviewers have, while appreciating the overall effort, tried to find faults in Aamir’s direction and editing. The flipbook, which has been repeatedly used in the movie to great effect, has been criticized by some reviewers as being too blatant and overused. However, I personally feel that Aamir has used it perfectly since it illustrates Ishan’s feelings of being separated from his family beautifully, while also highlighting his innate artistic creativity. It almost seems like reviewers want to find faults in a movie just for the heck of it, and to justify their position as “Film Critics”.

Some have also criticized the fairy tale ending where Ishan overcomes his problem with learning alphabets and becomes the darling of the school. However, I feel that, within the constraints of mainstream Bollywood, any ending other than a happy one, would have failed to deliver the message that Aamir was trying to convey; that Dyslexia is curable, with a little bit of patience and a lot of love. Tisca Chopra as Ishan’s mother also deserves a mention for her realistic portrayal of a mother caught between her love for her child and the expectations of a demanding society. All in all, TZP is definitely a movie that is worth watching, and more.

Digressing slightly from TZP, and speaking of Aamir, the movie reinforces my opinion of Aamir as one of the best actors in Bollywood. His command over the medium is truly fantastic, and he has proved time and again that he is a thinking man’s actor, and now, director. Aamir makes movies that make you sit up and think, and if any Indian actor has a serious chance of winning the Oscar, it has to be Aamir. Interestingly though, the tag of King Khan still rests with SRK despite Aamir’s fantastic track record.

Again, personally, I feel Aamir’s movies move you and get you thinking, while Shah Rukh plays to your emotions. Since they come from such different schools of filmmaking, comparing the two and deciding which one is better is unfair to both of them. Aamir is definitely the better actor, while SRK is the better entertainer. And in a country where people have enough problems of their own, an SRK movie that simply entertains them and lets them leave their realities behind will obviously be a bigger draw at the box office. To put the comparison in perspective, Aamir Khan’s forte is his ability to be real, while SRK captures your imagination and lets u dream.

And in a purely commercial sense, dreams are more attractive than reality.

The Life and Times of Leon

It has been a while since I visited this place, and this blog is close to becoming defunct, just like several of my previous blogs. But I am determined not to let my readers down. Yes, the 3 of you who have kept faith in my blog, and continue to visit this site despite my inactivity.

Since I have nothing really to write about, let me just post an update on the way my life has shaped up since my last post. On the professional front, it has been close to 4 months since I moved to Singapore in a sales role with my company. In these 4 months, I have contributed zilch to the company’s top line, and have really nothing to feel proud about. But I am told this is the norm, and so I continue to motivate myself everyday at work, hoping that good things will happen to those who wait. I have waited 4 months, and it’s about time that some good things start to happen.

On the personal front, however, there is something to smile about. Junior is due in a month’s time, and I am both excited and tense at the same time. That apart, however, living alone is not too much fun. Unlike the old days, this pseudo-bachelorhood comes with only the cons, if you know what I mean. Add to that the fact that Singapore is not a very interesting place, after the first couple of months when you have seen almost everything that there is to see in this small city/country, and whatever else is left is not worth seeing unless you are a willing bachelor. And of course, you can’t drive here since cars are simply unaffordable. Especially if you work for an Indian IT company in a sales role sans the bonus.

In short, life after ISB has been chugging along really slowly, and my career has been posing me a few questions. I have decided to adopt a wait-and-watch approach for now, but it is only a matter of time till my patience runs out, and desperation sets in. Hopefully, as the saying goes, every dog has its day, and this dog is really hungry right now.
Will someone toss me a bone please?

Before I sign off, a hearty congrats to Maverick, one my 3 loyal audience, for making it to the hallowed campus of IIMA. You rock man!