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.