The confessions of a clueless mind

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...

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-descri...

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 ...