Puri trip

With barely a week in hand, there was no recourse but to plan a trip to Puri, the safest and most traditional haven for Bengalis from time immemorial. Since our last trip was almost 15 years ago, we felt that a jaunt down there was the best we could do at such short notice, specially as the traditional hill resorts were in the grips of various sudden protests and demonstrations with the inevitable road blockades. With our group consisting of senior citizens, the trip had to be planned, comfortable and compact. The new Scorpio was only a few months old and needed a long run after the Gaya trip. So we said "Hell with train tickets, touts and reservations" and started off on Tuesday 23td December at 7.30 Am after the traditional Kolkata fog had dissipated a bit.

We zipped to Kolaghat in fine style,  where a huge traffic jam greeted us on the approach to the bridge.We had taken the left lane and were soon sandwiched between 6 immobile trucks. An enterprising tea seller, considered our mournful faces, shouted at Ganesh(our driver), to quickly turn around, reverse directions and then take the right lane meant for down traffic. "Passsenger cars are allowed through, "he stated. Then in typical innovative Bengali style, he waved and screamed at some lorry drivers, cleared a thin gap in the obstinate line of lorries, goaded a muttering Ganesh to weave in and out, and then tilt the car precariously by the kuccha roadside into the opposite lane. We streaked through, but settled behind a 100 such enterprising cars. The Kolaghat bridge was being repaired(should have been at least 5 years back), and cars could travel one at a time in only one direction. The tea seller merrily waved to us from the opposite side--a Good Samaritan who merely thought that helping people was as natural as breathing or eating.

We swept through to Kharagpur following NH6, took the turn to Belda and zipped to Balasore with ease and style by 1PM. There was a hitch as we entered Orissa, as a group of seedy officials from Orissa Motor Vehicles showed us a Xeroxed government order and demanded Rs 1050 for the Scorpio for 6 months permit to travel in Orissa. We protested, we pleaded, we threatened, we sighed---but we paid this unjustified and probably illegal tax as we had to reach Puri before night.

We stopped at Balasore where we  devoured our egg sandwiches (Pluto gulped down a couple in 5 seconds!!!), swilled down  some Coke and moved on. The road upto Simulia was horrible as they were being repaired with numerous diversions and potholes, but once past that the NH6 widened out and  sliced through the countryside in 4 and occasional 6 lane width. The landscape was flat and unremarkable, unlike Bihar, but the sun was muted enough not to cause any discomfort.

We cruised through Cuttack, had some tea at Bhubaneshwar, before entering the road to Puri after asking a few bystanders. More road signs would have been helpful--but our country NEVER lacks knowledgeable and eager-to-help strollers!!!! We went past Dhauli, and then Pipli, marked by  10 by 10 shops selling colourful cloth handicrafts.

We reached Puri at 5 PM and had to pay an Entrance fee of Rs.20!!!! All in all we spent Rs 265 as toll fee for the entire stretch. Again the helpful byestanders guided us to New Marine Drive and Hotel Prabhupada near the white Lighthouse.

Pluto got out, did his circular jigs, sniffed at the potted plants and wagged his curled up tail. Ganesh breathed a sigh of relief. We marched in with our 18 pieces of luggage ( Bengalis to the hilt are we!!!), only to be told that one of our rooms would be vacated 2 hours later.

The cool sea breeze started flowing as the sun set to the right of us--its rays glinting on the sweat of the fishermen bringing the last catch home. The lights went on, and the lighthouse lamp started rotating, its light bouncing off the incessant waves patterning and then smoothening out the sand on the beach.

Puri awaits for the morrow, but more later.

The story within a story

The terrible Mumbai tragedy is already getting diluted. The Taj has reopened, and so has the Trident. The resignations have been given, and the responsible politicians have been sidetracked and sent behind the backdrop.The candles have been snuffed out, and the TV Anchors have stopped hyperventilating. Only the concerned families live with empty eyes and shattered psyches listening and living the cliche that Time heals the wounds. The bloodstains have been washed, the horror stories have stopped doing the rounds, the SMSes have stopped, and the emails have died away. Only the politicians sit in their rooms and plot and plot the different strategies that would get them through the elections which are just a few months away. THE ELECTIONS!!!!! The greatest hype and dupe event in our Democracy, which exists in its corrupted present form not by its own inherent quality, but by the absence of a credible alternative.

What is the unfolding scenario? What could be the deals that are being made? Is our own government's strident statements a posture? Is our government seriously contemplating  pinpoint attacks on Pakistani terror camps? Or are they trying out a solution by which they can shore up the civilian government in Pakistan and Mr.Zardari--and at the same time get a trump card with which to bring the elections home? What is the scenario being contemplated by the Congress party?

The following could be a plausible story.

India makes a demand for 40 terrorists. The real ones they want are Dawood and Masood Azhar. Pakistan would never give them Dawood.He is too powerful a man, eminently able to bring down the government. Dawood alive and kicking is very convenient, because he can be blamed for anything. That would dilute enquiries , hide the real culprits behind the scenes, and still continue to keep the D-Gang and its channels alive. So the man targeted is Azhar.

Azhar is an international terrorist and wanted in 3 countries. Moreover ,he is the man the NDA government released in exchange of the aircraft passenger hostages. What better prize than that of Azhar--released by the NDA and brought back by UPA led by Singh and Sonia. Can you imagine the hype, the telecasts, the trial,the posters, the wall writings, the slogans  , the speeches, the photographs!!!!!! Enough to decimate the BJP led NDA in the next few months. Sonia could be " Desh Ki Mata " Rahul 'a Yuvraaj"  ......etc. Stories are being sufficiently  planted, specially in the  National Media Channels.

USA after ensuring that the Nuclear Deal had effectively silenced India, now wants only a raised posture. The credit of  brokering peace will fall on  President Obama when he assumes office and Indo-US interdependency will be at a new peak.  The Left had gone (prompted by China), so the USA could be a little expansive. There are therefore no bars to this relationship getting cosier. USA wants the UPA government to stay. So, it will do whatever it can to get Azhar.

Let us see how the story unfolds, but there is no doubt in my mind that Azhar is going to be set up  so that the Congress can cling to power.

Tintorettor Jishu

Sandip Ray has an unenviable task. For his films to be commercially successful, he requires a saleable character like Feluda, a story or some such connection of his colossus-like father Satyajit Ray, and a fickle audience who expect intellectual delicacies as well as entertainment. In this turmoil, he can only show glimpses of his cinematic sense, wry humour and old world Bengali charm--amidst an overwhelming desire for giving what sells. The net result is a thread of confusion running through the film, ending in a climax car chase scene and conclusion which resembled very bland left over watery soup.

And yet, there are areas of sheer visual delight     ( the inaugural shots of the Neogi home--the Jhargram Rajbari), the teatable discussion beside the majestic lake at Bhagwangarh, the introduction of Hong Kong etc.. There are subtle moments of Rudra( Shilajit )turning the No Smoking sign around on Somani's table before exhaling, the sudden storm as Feluda views the painting of Tintoretto, and the DVDs of old Hindi films at Paresh Pal's Hong Kong residence (his wife is a Bollywood film buff), which in turn explains the presence of the Cine Blitz film magazine from which Feluda confirm's Shilajit's identity as Nandakumar or Naba's brother.

But the story first. Feluda and his Topse and Jatayu help Naba Neogi(Bhaskar) when his car breaks down. Naba insists on them returning to his ancestral home (Jhargram Rajbari). A 14 year old Golden Retriever called Thumri has been killed--and they want to know why. At home, there is Naba's father Soumyasekhar, a lover of Classical music (2 excellent soundtracks of Gohar Jan and a Thumri are used--and the second dog is called Kajari). His brother Chandrasekhar had gone to Italy, married an Italian girl and had received this fabulous painting of Jesus Christ by Tintoretto, the famous Renaissance artist. He had brought it back to this house where he worked as a portrait painter and hung it in an unguarded room on the rooftop(how convenient!!), before disappearing years ago leaving behind a son in Italy called Rudrasekhar. Bhudeb Singh(the familiar Rajaram Yagnik) of Bhagwangarh in Chattisgarh, and a friend of Chandrasekhar wrote an article in India Today, putting the value of the painting at a whopping Rs.2 crores. This attracted the attention of Hiralal Somani(Biswajit Chakraborty) an unscrupulous businessman who wants the painting at all costs, to sell it to a Hong Kong based multimillionaire Art Collector.Meanwhile a researcher called Robin(Tota Roychoudhury),is a guest at this ancestral home, ostensibly to research on the life of Chandrasekhar. Another person (Shilajit) claims to be Chandrasekhar's son Rudrasekhar and lays claim on the painting. He avoids meeting anybody in the house, and has all his meals in his room. A robber is stopped by Feluda. The old clerk in the house smells a rat and is killed. . .

Rudra hangs a copy on the wall, steals the wall painting and tries to bypass Somani, but his goons kill him off. The killing is very hackneyed--the gunshot is masked by upping the TV volume. Very, very cliche and not in sync with the rest of the handling of the film. Somani now has the painting. Feluda detects the fake copy at the ancestral home by the night insects stuck to the wet freshly painted picture. He follows Somani to Hong Kong,where he meets up with Naba's contact Paresh(Paran Bandopadhaya), who runs an Indian Restaurant and loves snake preparations for dinner. After some insipid fights and revolver wagging, Feluda and his gang are captured by Somani. Meanwhile Robin arrives at Hong Kong and rescues them. Robin tells them that he has the original painting as he had already substituted a fake copy earlier. Feluda tells Robin that he had detected that Robin was not a Bengali, as he ate the meat preparation first and Sukto later.He then turns to the picture of a portrait of Chandrasekhar and in his computer, shows the similarity with Robin, who admits that he is Chandrasekhar's son and wants to donate the painting to an European Museum.The imposter Rudraprasad(Shilajit),was actually Nandakumar, Nabakumar's brother ,who had gone to Bombay to be an actor, and whose photograph was spotted by Feluda from the film magazine.The dog had been killed by Shilajit to prevent him from being identified by it as a previous resident in the house.Is it possible for a father(Soumyasekhar), not to know his own son, even though he has poor eyesight?

Finally the multimillionaire detects that Somani had stolen a fake only and had sold him that.He gets after Somani. Feluda corners Somani and smashes the painting(fake one ,of course). Somani hands back the cheque. And everything is hunky dory.

The screenplay is not smooth but adequate.Though why Tota's role had to be added on to the original story is a mystery.Perhaps Sandip Ray ran out of ideas while rewriting the screenplay. He could have created some thrilling  incidents with a bit more twists and turns but chose the easier option of a new character.The edutainment part was there, and details about the Renaissance painters were woven in as per the original story.The painting hardly looked 500 years old, and the way Tota was handling it, keeping it in his suitcase, is inexcusable for a person who had studied painting.

This is a Tintoretto painting and the portrait in the film looked to be in a different style.

  There was a glaring faux pax. The millionaire could easily have stopped the 3 million dollar cheque given to Somani, from being encashed ,by a simple phone call to his bankers--and not endangered lives by this car chase. Moreover are deals like this ever handled by a cheque ?It is always by fund transfers from bank to bank.

The music relies on Satyajit's original score, and Sandip thankfully kept it going and resisted the temptation of adding a song.

Barun Raha and Sasanka Palit took some glorious shots with interesting and innovative camera angles. The lighting in the night scenes were disturbing, and the contrasts and brightness were uneven  in some places. The Editing was on a whole satisfactory without being extraordinary.The director and editor were always cutting after an actor's reaction--which is fine unless it is repeated ad nauseun.

The star of the show is undoubtedly the audiographer Anup Mukhopadhyaya. Off screen voices, sounds of simple activities, music from another room, the crisp recording enhance the viewing pleasure. I would even call it Award Nomination category straight off.

Sabyasachi (Feluda)was brilliant in parts, hard, terse, tough and believable while throwing punches. In a few scenes he seems jaded and worn out. Is he now getting too old for the part? Why he still doesn't have a mobile phone is inexplicable. Parambroto(Topse) is also outgrowing his part. He is too tall and too smart. Left with very little personal moments, he merely supports his role without endowing any surprise or innovations.It is time to look for another Topse. Bibhu Mukhopadhyaya(Jatayu) is adequate but has to pay attention to his dialogue delivery, as many of his words were jumbled up and not decipherable.Biswajit Chakravarty(Hiralal Somani) speaks in the same way as Utpal Dutta's outstanding Meghraj, but is unable to convey the full effect of villainy. The rest were good but there were no outstanding performances nor were there any scope to do so..

Tintorettor Jishu is a clean, family entertainer,fast paced with a more cerebral Feluda.The attractions of Hong Kong were not utilised.There are glaring holes in the action scenes like the car chase where lack of budget and technical expertise was just too self evident. The classical assured slow camera movements to establish a character was missing--as there was more reliance on dialogue.The screenplay just did not have the necessary depth or wit. What saved it was the magic of Satyajit Ray's original story--simple,subtly humourous, the emphasis on the correct pronunciation(Italian, French or English), and the presence of lurking danger.

The Nandan crowd were muted in their response.Naturally, the film promised a lot, raised our hopes in the first half but fizzled out like a long opened Pepsi can when the credits came down..The pace was good and ninety minutes went by in a flash. I did not sleep during the film,but the conclusion was so obvious and standard, that it left a bitter sense of unfulfilment which rankled and lingered on. Luckily, the best seats in Nandan costs only Rs.70!!!!!

On the Right Track

After my last post, the following is a heartening development. Not only  were my pleas heard, but they were also acted upon. Needless to say, my post was not read by the concerned persons, but the overwhelming groundswell of Public opinion which it represented, has touched positive chords. This is not a cry for revenge(which is momentarily satisfactory and futuristically untenable)--this is a shout by the hitherto silent majority that will no longer be cowed down or dictated to by fanatics who have long since sacrificed the processes of reason and coexistence.This is a report from rediff.com.

The terror attack that shook Mumbai last week has awakened the leaders of the Muslim community like never before. On the anniversary of the demolition of the Babri Masjid, a few Islamic scholars and leaders launched a movement called 'Muslims initiative against Terrorism' .

Kamal Faruqui, well-known leader and founder member of the All India Muslim Personal Law Board, had organised a seminar to launch the movement in New Delhi ,where each speaker emphasised that it was time to stand up and be counted.

"If Muslims will not speak now, it will be too late," they said. The speakers included the Mufti Mohammed Mukarram from the Shahi Fatehpuri Mosque, eminent thinker and journalist M J Akbar and President of Jamait Ulema Qari Mohmmad Usman, among others.

"All over India, Muslims are coming out on the streets to condemn terrorism. We love India. We belong here. We must express our love of India in this crisis. We all are one and let others know that. We express solidarity with the victims of the terror attack and their relatives. We want to tell our country that we have nothing to do with terrorists or terrorism," Faruqui told rediff.com.

Addressing the audience, Faruqui said, "Indian Muslims must come out of self-denial. We should accept that there is a possibility of the involvement of some Muslims. But we love India. We have nothing to do with these terrorists. It is our duty to fight these terrorists. We must not fail in our duty to strengthen our own beloved country."

Many speakers talked about the alienation of Muslims, deprivation of the poor community and the profiling of Muslims in the society after every bomb blast.

Mufti Mohammed Mukarram from the Shahi Fatehpuri Mosque advised that the English and the Hindi media should be brought closed to the minority community.  He stressed that children should be educated about Islam by imparting the basic understanding of the religion.

He told the audience that leaders of the minority community had initiated dialogue with the leaders of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh.

He informed the audience that Itihas, a non-governmental oraganisaiton based in New Delhi, is taking students of public schools to mosques to familiarise the children with Islam and its culture. The children asked all kinds of questions, including the meaning of Jihad, he said, and added that they return satisfied after hearing the word's real meaning.

Such heritage tours will slowly but surely spread the real culture of India, believes the Mufti.

Importantly, he said, "I have heard that the terrorists were avenging the demolition of the Babri Masjid, the Gujarat riots and other issues. But, we (Indian Muslims) have never asked for any kind of help from outside India. We don't ask for help, we don't complain to outsiders. We are living in a secular country. Whatever we want to say, we will tell our Prime Minister, our Cabinet ministers. It makes no sense to talk about our issues to outsiders. Why are others coming here and taking up our issues? We don't need them."

"We live in India. We live with pride and we are proud Indians. In the last 50-60 years, Hindustan's Muslims have never looked forward to another country and we will never look at them. The incident in Mumbai has been very painful. We will fight back against terrorism. Today, Indian Muslims are distressed," said the Mufti.

Jamait Ulema President Qari Mohmmad Usman said that India should punish the perpetrators of the terror attacks and never forgive them. He also raised a pertinent question � why was the government not making those responsible for security accountable for their lapses?

"For the sake of peace, it is very important to make people accountable for our security," he said.

The new initiative, which was started by Javed Anand, has been spreading fast. The organisers have planned a public demonstration at the India Gate in New Delhi at 3 pm on Sunday.Let us watch and pray for this movement to survive--for on this depends whether India will survive!!!!!

Similar demonstrations to condemn terrorism have been planned in 16 cities across India, including all the metros, Faizabad and Bhopal.

There won't be any slogans or speeches in the peace march, but the participants have been asked to come with placards, which will carry the following slogans.

1) Enemies of our countries are our enemies.

2) Terrorists are enemies of Islam.

3) Do not blemish Jihad.

4) Terrorists and communalists are cousins.

5) Close terrorist camps at ONCE.

6) We strongly condemn organisations like LTTE  and Jaish-e-Mohammad, Indian Mujahideen  etc, which are using Muslim names.

The voice of war must be stopped. The voices demanding fanaticism MUST not be allowed to blank out the voices for reason and rationality.

Let us light this candle in our hearts....

 

Mumbai--meri jaan!!!!

Of all the metros in India, the place where I feel most at home is in Mumbai. Being a diehard Kolkattan, I find remarkable similarities between the two cities. Of course, Kolkata does not have the financial clout or a comparable film industry. Neither does it have a seacoast Marine Drive or the multiple flyovers and skyscrapers. But below nestling beneath these imposing structures, there is a life and a spirit which is so similar.People live in abject poverty, but still make their living. They occupy every inch of space and start a shop--very much like here. India has the highest number of shops in the world!!! Cricket is a pastime like nowhere else, as it is here. And some of the hospitals are so similar, that it is difficult to find out where one is. Mumbai is a place where  theatre survives--as it does in Kolkata. And many a time people just get together to chat or browse a bookstore. One can get the right product that you want from dingy stores as you can here--and in spite of Raj Thackeray, it is a place where anybody can come and make a living, if you have the talent and determination--as you can do here in Kolkata. Almost every locality has a bakery outlet where you can have the most delicious pastries, and the roadside foodstalls sell the golgappas(called phuchka here), best devoured one after the other with a bent head, with a breath allowed after every ten pieces!!!!!

Mumbai has taught commercialism is possible without crudity. Kolkata portrays a unique perspective of the world via art and music. Both portray that life is hard but enjoyable, a struggle with definite rewards by the wayside, and that strangers could be friends and helped.

So when the terrorists attacked with their grenades, I felt the splinters in my heart. For something has changed irrevocably--the stranger now is not to be trusted , nor is to be helped. They knocked at the door of a shanty of a poor hospital worker (Thakur Budhabhai Waghela, 33, a sweeper employed at GT Hospital) and asked for a glass of water. After drinking it, they shot him. They swaggered into the VT station and shot at people who regarded them curiously. Old, young, men and women fell to their murderous bullets without knowing why. They ran into restaurants and fired indiscriminately at diners enjoying their day out. They fired into roadside crowds and passer byes and shop owners. The dead and injured were of all religions and nationalities--Hindus , Muslims, Christians, Jews, Parsees, Marathis and non Marathis. What type of religion, what type of mentality teach these people to be so cowardly? The answer is --none. Religion is used as a cover for obtaining power. Horror and outrage is used for destabilisation and creating a society bereft of trust---the vital step for destroying it.

While the knee jerk reaction is to blame Muslims for all this --(all the terrorists were of that religion), one has to remember that blaming all for the faults of a few is the easy and dangerous road. I have many Muslim friends, enlightened and good human beings who shrink a little bit at these outrages. Blaming a religion or punishing all of them blindly will only add to the increase of fundamentalism, and the downgrading of these voices of reason. The time has come for these voices to be heard more loudly and frequently and unequivocally. The flag bearers for peace and reason HAS to outshout the divisive forces and overwhelm them by their numbers. That is my plea to those Muslim friends. Now is the time to be strident and be heard. Your silence will destroy mankind and all the things that you and I have been taught to believe in. You will face the wrath of these cowards and may become their victims, but if you do not, you will be victims like Aziz, Haji, Amina and Sohail  lying dead in  St.George's Hospital anyway. The most important battle for justice has to be fought by you.

Tomorrow I will write about the terrorist methodology. Luckily teardrops do not smudge an electronic page for today, I will write no more--only  cry for Mumbai--meri jaan.

Yuvvraaj

The much hyped film by Subhas Ghai attracted about a 100 persons in the Sunday 2PM show at Inox Forum. And as usual with the INOX people selling us Rs 230 buck tickets even though the newspaper ads stated Rs 160 on Fri-Sun, the value for money quotient was negative.

There is a story line but that seems to be incidental. The focus is more on the locales, the stars, the props and sets, the music,the choreography---in short the look of the film, rather than the content. Subhas Ghai prides himself in being a showman, and he is unable and unwilling to shake off the tag. Everything has to be subservient to that. That is the biggest asset of the film and also its biggest shortcoming.

There are 3 brothers--Anil Kapoor the eldest by the first wife, and Salman and Zayeed by the second. Anil is autistic but a musical genius, which is uncovered in the middle of the story.He gets bashed up by bad boy Salman in childhood, resulting in Salman being banished to boarding school . Salman returns , and promptly bashes up Anil again, resulting in him being chucked out of home and inheritance. He carries a chip on his shoulder because of that and confesses he is a bad boy frequently. He breaks violins, gets angry, drives rashly,and is invariably late for rehearsals in an orchestra, where he is supposed to be a chorus boy, but they all wait for him to come, and then he sings the lead songs and is the centre of the dancing troupe---some chorus boy this!!! Salman plays himself, and brings his real life idiosyncrasies to his role which is tailor written for him. Katrina is sugary sweet, and a violinist in the same orchestra and is in love with Salman. Katrina's father is an eccentric Cardiac Surgeon(wonderful role by Boman Irani--so impressive with his timing and gestures), who hates Salman, and wants his daughter to (as usual) to marry a rich businessman's son.

Salman has to be a millionaire to marry Katrina, and his chance comes when his father dies. He dashes off to London, where he finds in the will read by Mithun Chakravarty(the family lawyer), that everything has been left to Anil Kapoor. The scheming Mamababu, his wife and children etc are all present as per the traditional Indian film plot. Salman and Zayed plot to get the money and become "Partners and not brothers".In the process, Katrina and her orchestra discover Anil Kapoor's sensational musical talent, and rope him in for their great show.

Salman and Zayed discover their brotherly love for Anil via 2 incidents. Anil takes the rap for Salman's rash driving--and the phoren police officers are surprised as to why anyone should do that. Salman says,"He is my brother. An Indian brother." Zayed loses his memberships to the clubs and then his girl, and then his car breaks down on a fascinating lonely Austrian road(in that order). His brothers rescue him , and naturally Indian brotherly love spills over. There is a murder plot, and after Salman's plea to Boman Irani, Anil Kapoor is saved, and Mithun ends it by saying "Sons may be independent, but they have to be United as a family."

Subhas Ghai has carefully kept it as THE FAMILY MOVIE. There are no exposures, no raunchy scenes, and the crudest word you here is "Frigging". The curses are "Monkey, Donkey, Flunky etc" "Now it is well done. Wait for it to be done-done". Unbelievable really!!! But then this an unbelievable movie. Thankfully there is no harping on  communal harmony, or patriotism, or car chases and fights or shootings.As Salman said, "It is a Suraj Barjatya story ,with David Dhavan Humour". A Subhas Ghai film is now only a compendium and not a pathbreaker. All the new film makers, and the recent cinema buffs must be gaping in disbelief that such an amount of money could be spent on such a film.

The film is technically sound. Kabir Lal 's cinematography is spectacular, though there was little scope for any innovative angles. The choreography were by different persons from Chinni Prakash to Shiamak Davar. The sets were opulent--(The Great Showman Complex). The music by A.R.Rahaman was breathtaking. With a full blown orchestra in the story, Rahaman lets his musical genius flow. Gulzar's lyrics are his best in recent years.If the songs had been placed in more realistic situations, we would have remembered the video clips. As of now only the music lingers on. The editing is safe--done by Ghai himself.  The script, also written by Ghai, sparkles in parts, but does not have the punch or surprises of greatness.

Yuvvraaj - 08 - Ma...

As for the actors, Salman virtually plays himself-inconsistent, short-tempered,friendly,and a "little crooked". Anil Kapoor does not have much to do, but does it professionally. Katrina has been photographed exceptionally well. Though she is unlikely to be a great actress, she will fit into these not-central roles so long as she retains her looks.

Zayed Khan had better retire from films. He is at best a third role actor, without a physique, looks or acting ability of a hero. The real attraction is Boman Irani. He takes a stereotyped role--and injects life and interest into it with his impeccable comedy timing and delivery.

It is a film unlike any released in recent times. It has come across as an archaic film 20 years later than it should have, struggling to come to terms with modern day lifestyles, with a dialogue and script that flashes in the pan, and leaves behind a great regret of what it could have been but didn't.

Definitely worth a watch only in single screen halls!!!!!!

Meanwhile listen to this hit.

Yuvvraaj-TuHiTohMe...

Gaya

I had to go to Gaya to do Pindadan for my late parents and aunt. We drove down on the magnificent NH2, before turning on to NH83 at Dobhi.We covered the 490 kms in 8 hours including an hour's break for refreshments.
Will describe the very interesting journey in more details later. Meanwhile try out this link below to see the photos.

Gaya

The Loner

In every circle, there is a fringe. In that fringe, there will always be somebody. He/she will be in that group, and yet not there. They will join in the conversation, and yet really not participate in it. And if they do, they will put forward some strange ideas which make people uncomfortable. You will often find them sitting alone. They are at ease with themselves, but not quite at ease with the world. They are not alone, or lonesome. They are certainly not  lonely. They are the loners.

Maybe it is the background they come from. They probably had long periods of being alone, where they developed their brand of thinking. They dealt with themselves, looked inwards--really deep inside--and settled on being themselves. They were obviously moulded by their parents, relatives, schools, colleges and companions. But more often than not--they moulded themselves. Edit, cut, copy, paste, insert.....

(Hillary)

Who then is a loner??

"This subculture that will never, by nature, join hands and whose voices will never, by nature, form a chorus. Some loners are neuroscientists and some are office cleaners. Some are sculptors and some are Survivor fans. Some are law students and some are surfers. No two loners are alike, but all of us have one thing in common: we like to be alone. We like it. Everyone else - nonloners, that is — can't stand to be alone. They squirm. They feel ashamed. They yearn for company when they're alone. They're bored and don't know what to do. They're lonely.
We're not.

Mainstream culture loves nonloners. Joiners, schmoozers, teamworkers, congregants and all those who play well with others scoop up the rewards.
Meanwhile, loners get dissed. All the time. At school, at work, at church or temple, in movies, loners are misunderstood, misjudged, loathed, pitied and feared".

This is from a book by Annelie Rufus called ,appropriately, "Party of One".

Sometimes there is a loner in the midst of plenty--flamboyant, exotic, sought after--and yet the loner. Listen to this song by Peter Sarstedt who never again could match this performance.

Peter Sarstedt - W...

And sometimes, there is a backpacker, an isolated sketcher, a rock climber or a simple parkbench sitter. This is the person Nillsson sang about. I loved Nillsson's singing. He lost the sharpness with age, and then he died relatively young--but he sang of things we thought about but could never quite articulate.

Nilsson - Everybod...

Probably many of us are loners too...........

Bhai Phonta

The Bengali loves Bhai Phonta. Ostensibly, it is an occasion where the sister gives a "phonta" ( a chandan or sandalwood paste circular fingertip impression) on the forehead of the brother, and blesses him with grass seeds, so that the Yama(harbinger of death and evil) is kept at bay.

This is followed by food (there is hardly any Bengali function without food at the end!!)--mainly sweets and a lunch or dinner at home or outside.So two days after Kali Puja or Diwali, brothers dressed in finery land up at the sister's house to do the needful.

 

This festival somehow replenishes the Sibling relationships. It revives memories of a childhood spent together, schoolbooks, Enid Blyton, games on the rooftop, secretly shared achar and potato chops, confidences, parental policies and their unfairness, and later on for advice, assurance and a place to go to where you can stop playing roles.

The empathy, understanding,communication never wanes. There may be bouts of misunderstanding, of sentiments not really appreciated, prolonged absences--but picking up the threads are as easy as always.

Common memories are recalled, specially of parents who have departed, of relatives no more with us. The weddings, the birthdays, the trips, the escapades, the simple pleasures of life relived and recreated for a magical day, at least.

Bhai Phonta is special to all sisters and brothers. So it was also, this time.

Amar Vitor Bahire ...

Rahul Raj and the Absence of Pressure

Rahul Raj is dead, killed by the bullets fired by policemen for whose subsistence ,taxes have been paid by his parents. Psychiatrists will delve into his behaviour, as to why he got a gun, held the conductor and several passengers of the BEST bus captive, fired a few shots and why he wanted to talk to Raj Thackeray.

 

Was it a Rang De Basanti syndrome--in which a protest is launched against the misdoings of an omnipotent state by the youth of India? Was it an effort to have publicity, in which ,like in films, he would be on National TV , declaiming the wrongness of the actions of the MNS goons? Was it an attempt to give a voice and action to the thousands of Bihari youths, who migrate outside the state in an effort to get a sustainable livelihood--the opportunity for which is lacking in their home state? Or was it a protest at the looting by the rest of the country of Bihar's and Eastern India's immense natural resources for little compensation by the Central Government for quite a few decades? Or was it just the expression of foolishness by a boy of limited intelligence who did not know any better?

The fact remains however, that a gun toting youth, who had killed no one and who had no criminal records, was killed by a hundred policemen whose efforts at controlling real killers of the Underworld still leaves a lot to be desired, and whose efforts at controlling the MNS miscreants, is still questionable.

The fact remains that a young adult of India has been killed by a State which guarantees a fundamental right to work anywhere in this country--and possibly that was all this misguided Rahul was wanting.

True, enquiries will be launched, no police officer will be deemed guilty, a report by the CBI or a retired Supreme Court Judge or the concerned department will gather dust and the incident will worry us for a few days , before being forgotten under the pressure of work. Did the police have justification for their action? Yes, they will say. An unstable youth with a gun, who had allegedly injured a passenger, had taken a government employee hostage, and who refused to surrender--needed to be stopped. Of course, we tried to aim at the peripheral parts of the body, but we failed. There is a limit to police patience. We were apprehensive that he would cause further damage to personnel and property. And that of course will be accepted.

Years ago . when I was a registrar at a Government Medical College, Mamata Banerjee and her firebrand Trinamool Congress party launched a misguided agitation to march to the Mahakaran, the seat of the West Bengal Government. After they breached one of the barriers, the police opened fire. 21 persons died and hundreds were injured. I would never forget that evening.

The injured and dying were coming in streams. We were tackling the cases on the floor, on the beds, resuscitating them and sending them to the operating theatres. Most had bullet injuries, fractures, abrasions, cut injuries etc. As I prepared to leave for the Operating room, I noticed a young boy in one corner, lying on the makeshift bed.An IV drip was running, Oxygen was being supplied, and a harassed intern was pressing a sterile dressing to his chest wound to stem the bleeding. There was a feeble pulse and the boy was gasping. I bent down and he suddenly clasped my hand. His eyes opened for a few moments, as he glanced at me. I gripped his hand and started shouting for him to be taken to the cardio-thoracic Operation Theatre. As the trolleys started coming in, the boy gasped again, and there was no pressure on my hand. We started APR, but to no avail. That absence of pressure on my hand was the signal that life had flown out through the small wound in his chest, killed by a state which would not listen to him.

(stock picture)

I have grasped since then, thousands of hands, but even now I can feel the pressure on my hand--and then the absence of it.

That is how easy it is to be killed. It is so much more difficult to live. That is why such deaths still pain me--and I wonder as to why we are slowly losing our patience and compassion--and why deaths like this are getting commoner by the day.

Winter is coming....

There is an anticipation in the air. The morning sun is muted, even mellow. The birds have started leaving the shadows and started preening themselves in the sunshine. The milkman's voice seems a little hoarse and he clears his throat frequently. The morning tea seems a necessity, and the warmth of the tangy beverage a little bit more welcome.

The air conditioner hums seem much less obvious. Pluto gets up a trifle more slowly in the morning and prefers to raise one curious eyebrow at first. At night, watchful mothers close open windows, and down regulate the ceiling fans. Stretching hands look for some cover at night---a blanket or bed sheet  will do.

Woollens are remembered, sari pallus are tightly held over the body , shawls are taken out gradually. Full sleeves are preferred. The central air conditioning seems a little high. The roads are now covered with rain water. Once the rain stops, the dry leaves and dust would have formed a thick paste which would stick to shoes and chappals and bare foot for a long time.

The people from the hills with their coloured woolens stretched over the railings of public parks are yet to arrive in numbers. The leaves of the trees occasionally waft down--the numbers are increasing. The hint of smog is there.

(saurav)

We wrap ourselves in a cocoon of warmth.Winter is the best season of Kolkata.

Love Song In Winte...

The Domino effect

Everything is interrelated.We, our families, friends,colleagues,relatives, acquaintances,animals, trees etc. This has special advantages. We can learn from everyone for everyone knows at least one thing better than me. I had a peculiar failing when I was a school student, all of 12 years old. I just could not spin a top. You know, the ones with the thread called latti and the wooden top with a metal pin sticking out. Countless times I tied the thread round the top and threw it on the ground. And every time the top would lurch to one side and then would overturn or twirl sideways on the ground for a second or two and then stop. My embarrassment knew no bounds. All my friends would snigger and look amused whenever I did my top antics. On the way back from school, I had to go beside a row of shanties every day. I used to look with envy at the boys, some much younger than me, who would carelessly throw the top in the air and effortlessly draw on the string such that the top would land on the hand and start spinning!!!!

                       

I mustered up courage one day and tentatively asked one boy whether he could teach me how to spin the top. He looked at me condescendingly and asked."Sahab log ki school mein sikhata nahin?" I mumbled,"No". He took pity on me, and started to show me the technique. It took me a couple of days and countless tries before I started getting the hang of it. I learned how tightly I had to wind the thread, what was the force required, the timing, the pull etc. Within a week, I had got the hang of it. My friends stopped laughing. I started to modify the technique and perfected some stunts like catching the top between my legs etc.

But I have never forgotten the torn vested, unkempt haired boy who showed me something which I could not have ever done without his help.

So, I taught some other boys, and they taught others, and I dare say many boys gained a skill ,which though materially unrewarding , did a lot for confidence and self belief, which I am sure, they carried on into their later life and their children. This is a positive Domino effect. That is why education and teachers are so important for society, because they can have the most widespread domino effect, spanning decades and states and countries.

Domino effect can also be negative. Specially the cheap tricks carried out by politicians like Raj Thackeray.

By creating discrimination on the basis of language and geography, they can create the same Domino effect of violence in the villages and towns and cities and the whole country. No one denies him his opinion of home jobs for home people. But by reserving jobs, they are merely creating a pampered society which shies away from competition. My greatest thrill was when I came through an All India competition. I knew from that day, that I could face competition and survive. That feeling can never be in your core, otherwise. And it is that feeling and belief is what you fall back on in your darkest days. And you survive, strong and confident than ever before, because you trust yourself, and you back yourself anywhere, anytime.

Enough of homilies. Enjoy this wonderful truelife Domino effect.