The Little Hopers

A Hoper, as expected , is defined in the dictionary as hoper - a person who hopes. Hope is defined as "A wish or desire accompanied by confident expectation of its fulfillment." As I see it however, there are three types of hopers. The No-hopers, the Big hopers and the Little hopers.

The No hopers are there all around you. Forced by Society and economics, they have lost the power to hope. Disenchanted, deprived and dejected, they can see no future for themselves or their near and dear ones. They are prevalent in the lower echelons mainly, but are surprisingly present amongst the favoured ones also. Eking out their existence, day by day,they see no difference between yesterday or tomorrow.No hopers expect nothing, so when they get anything they are delighted.

The Big Hopers are ambitious with huge goals. They dream of a winning lottery ticket, a sudden opportunity, an accidental windfall. They work hard, but they are always dissatisfied about their achievements. They are euphoric most of the time, but seem to be perennially picking themselves up from the floor.They are always looking beyond the horizon, with little attention to their present work. As such their work standards fall. Basic counselling procedures include setting goals and finding ways to achieve it. If the goals are unrealistic, they have to be downsized, a procedure abhorred by this group.

And there are the Little Hopers. Like me. Small achievements, once in a while. Small steps carrying you on.Easier to achieve the fulfillment of reaching targets. The cricket batsman, who thinks only of his next 10 runs, and not the hundreds, the rickshaw puller who wants 5 passengers in 3 hours, the salesman who sells 2 sarees by 12 noon. We are a contented lot, knowing that with a little effort, we can reach goals. The LONG March is only an aggregation of small steps.

So do hope, and reach your targets more often than not. It takes only little steps to maintain a low hoper!!!!

I am proud to be a low--hoper....

Listen to this beautiful music by Jan from the Netherlands on his Yamaha....

hope has a place.m...

RAGGING !!!!!

 

One of the most dreaded and controversial events in a college student's life, specially in residential schools and colleges is ragging. Conceived and nurtured in  colonial schools in England and Australia, it has found its crudest and most disgusting expression in the residential technical colleges of India and others in the subcontinent.

Postulated  as THE method to ensure discipline and cooperation between Juniors and Seniors, and as a moderate teasing, breaking-the-ice procedure, it has degenerated into a ludicrous and dangerous game in which no holds are barred, where psychiatrically degenerated individuals unleash their hidden idiosyncrasies on a group of teenaged,apprehensive individuals, who have little idea of the ethos of that particular institution.

While the milder forms can be acceptable, the hard core ragging soon starts in most of these places. Quickly, it degenerates into a debauched sexual dialogue, and often these susceptible entrants are subjected to erotic assaults, bordering and then  actually becoming sexual crimes. No lines are drawn except the morality of the ragger, which inevitably is the lowest common denominator of the senior students. Education (the primary reason that these people are there for) often takes a back seat. After the ragging period is over, supposedly the seniors and juniors are "friends" and everything is hunky dory from then on--even though the ragged students have been immeasurably scarred for life.

(This girl tried to commit suicide)

While the sexual ragging is more in some medical colleges and marine engineering colleges, physical assault raises its ugly head in many places, often reflecting the repressed psyches of the raggers. Ragging sees the worst expression of humanity, as every ragger finds solace in numbers and tradition (specially of their own experiences when they were freshers).

(Perpetrators of the assault on Aman. How could they be so vicious?)

Ragging has assumed epidemic proportions and a serious Law and Order problem, so much so that the Supreme Court of India banned it in a historic 2001 judgment. The Court defined ragging as "Any disorderly conduct whether by words spoken or written or by an act which the effect of teasing, treating or handling with rudeness any other student, Indulging in rowdy or indisciplined activities which causes or Is likely to cause annoyance, hardship or psychological harm or to raise fear or apprehension thereof in a fresher or a junior student or asking the students to do any act or perform something which such student will not do in the ordinary course and which has the effect of causing or generating a sense of shame or embarrassment so as to adversely affect the physique or psyche of a fresher or a junior student".

A report from 2007 by the Indian anti-ragging group Coalition to Uproot Ragging from Education analyzed 64 ragging complaints, and found that over 60% of these were related to physical ragging, and 20% were sexual in nature.The situation has worsened so much so that young innocent students are committing suicide and now some are being murdered.The website is www.noragging.com.

Another link detailing the Andhra Pradesh Government Act is:- http://janagama.com/stopragging/objectives.html

India's only registered Anti Ragging NGO, Society Against Violence in Education (SAVE) has noted 7 reported ragging deaths in the year 2007 alone and 31 reported deaths in the period 2000-2007.

Ragging is now seen to be a clear infringement of Human Rights, and subjected to the laws of the land.

Ragging has no utility in the 21st century. Bans have to be strictly implemented, punishments for violation have to be severe , exemplary and prompt, and repeaters have to be subjected to police action. The Wardens have to be strict in the implementation and they themselves should be subjected to punishment if they fail.

As a Freshman in Medical College, Kolkata, we were taken on a tour of the entire campus, treated to refreshmennts and cultural functions and that was it. Queries were more out of curiousity and getting acquainted rather than teasing or embarrassing us. I do not think that the graduates from this hallowed institution of 175 years are in anyway maladjusted or unfriendly or misfits. We respect our seniors and have wonderful working relationships with them even now.

Let us take a resolve today that ragging will be banned from campuses forever, a just requiem for an outdated colonial practice. As for the raggers, identify and isolate them, and convince them to stop, because this is a useless practice and could land you in jail.And if you are trying to take revenge because you were ragged--break the cycle by being strong yourself. The Institutions will be better places without ragging.

Then Aman Kachru's death would have taught us something forever.

And no parent has to face this scene....

Fifty Five today.......

I have reached 55 today, a figure which was beyond conception when I was 15, and a distant target when I was 25. At 35, I forgot my Birthday and at 45, I got presents from my children. At 55, messages flow in from the mobile and Inbox and my favourite sweets from my sister and my special dishes from my mother-in-law. Chocolates flood in. as do the greeting cards,shirts, flowers and best wishes. Ranjana judiciously gives me money for shoes( wives have this uncanny knack of knowing what we need!!!).The Kolkata night lights seem a little more brighter, and the wind seems to bring in the tangy smell of the Hooghly river like never before. The smog is way below and at 3AM in the morning, quite a few stars speckle the night sky and the clouds part ever so often to show that the moonlight still remains mystical.

At fifty five, today, the memory net traps some moments again--glistening water drops hanging from a rain soaked washing line. My mother sitting on a mat on the roof top, reading a book, having finished her daily chores a few minutes ago. My father watching the fish being unladen in preparation for a family feast... Conversations with my sister on  our small verandah, as the local boys shouted during their evening football game. All of us playing rings on the rooftop...Family picnic at Diamond Harbour. Spreading a sataranchi and tiffin carriers at the Zoo Gardens and Victoria Memorial. The magician who came to my Birthday Party and brought out scarves from nowhere..The first days at school and College. The first cadaveric dissection and the Anatomy Hall smells..Playing cricket at the hallowed Eden Gardens . All India Radio studios and the musty smell of Gramophone records and the scratchy players...Doordarshan studios and the butterfly feeling in the stomach as you went "Live". Ranjana's hand in mine as we watched a glorious sunset at Gopalpur.

Vicky's first medal in Elocution and his "Achievement"smile. Boni, breathless and thrilled after her Bharatanatyam performance..

Vicky, Boni and Gulu devouring mountains of momos at Siliguri...

My first view of the majestic Teesta --so different from the Ganges on the plains....

As I sway under the weight of what has been, I see the skies changing colours once again--but the sunrise today is special. I am still curious enough to see what the daylight brings. Today is Holi--the day of revelry--but these are not happy times. I dream of a day, just one day in which there are no Traffic Injuries or deaths, Just one day when no one complains and no one falls sick. One day, when the suicide bombers take a break as do guns, tanks and marauding aircrafts. One day when everyone smiles needlessly and idiotically--but they do smile..Just one day--selfishly I say, my Birthday.

At 55, looking back is more easy than looking forward, but almost instinctively, I see this vast city of mine awakening to the endless possibilities.

Yes, I dream of the Impossible Dream in my quest to attain the Unreachable Heights....

To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go

To right the unrightable wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest
To follow that star
No matter how hopeless
No matter how far

To fight for the right
Without question or pause
To be willing to march into Hell
For a heavenly cause

And I know if I'll only be true
To this glorious quest
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest

And the world will be better for this
That one man, scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star......

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Delhi-6

One should not go to a film with the memories of the previous films by the same director even though the film posters advertise that point. Because, the expectations and the reality are grossly different. Rakaysh Omprakash Mehra (ROM from now on), continues to innovate, but does not maintain a continuous link with the viewer. Burdened by his successful past, and the desire to be "different", he creates moments of extreme intelligence and beauty--but they are just that--moments lost in the general overambitiousness of the film. To tell a story simply and with force is difficult. To tell multiple stories and then trying to tie up too many loose ends with sanctimony and sermonizing, is like tightrope walking--and ROM falls flat on his face in the last segments.

And yet, it began promisingly enough. Roshan(Abhisekh) volunteers to take his grandmother(Waheeda) back to her roots in Delhi, where she plans to live the last days of her life. The chaos, of the Chandni Chowk streets, the traffic, the inhabitants and the relatives and neighbours, the multifarious hues, smells and indiscipline are magnificently portrayed by the roving camera of Vinod Pradhan. The sudden deviations, the twists and turns of the narrow lanes are faithfully followed, and occasionally the camera shies upwards to the flying pigeons and the profiles of the Masjid and the Delhi skyline, as if it is a separate character in the film, the commentator, the observer and of course the recorder. The characters are quickly etched out.

 

Om Puri (Elder brother and less well off), and Pawan Malhotra(Younger brother and richer), build a brick wall between their houses, from where a brick is surreptitiously removed to allow gossiping between their wives!!!. Bittu(Sonam Kapoor) is  Om Puri's daughter, aspiring to do  something in life(how cliched...), like trying to be an Indian Idol star (what is there for a middle class girl to achieve fame?--is one of the B grade lines....). ..People of course have forgotten academics, perseverance, hard work etc. according to these accomplished dialogue writers!!!! The Masakali is permanently grounded and not allowed to fly, but does so after Roshan sends it aloft.

 

There is of course, the traditional Hindu Lala and the Islamic neighbour. People in this so called reality--fairyland, make achars on the roof, fervently follow the RamLila, and the bhajan singing, and the Namaaz, and are so so friendly---till of course a Kala Bandar invades their lives and all the misdemeanours are attributed to it--including rape and assault. The story then degenerates into a mandir--masjid issue, the saddhi and the maulabhi trade insults, the mobs are religiously divided and aggressive. What a simplistic explanation of communal violence!!!

 

Bittu refuses to get married and  Roshan falls for her.Roshan captures images on his mobile camera. But a fakir starts going around showing a mirror to everybody (their own images) and starts saying that there is a God in every heart. Abhisekh is beaten up by people from both sides.He is dying, but along comes Dad Amitabh in an absolutely silly and unnecessary dream netherworld sequence, following which and a few well directed cardiac thumps from a doctor, he survives and the typical Hindi film ending of love and togetherness  triumphing is picturised, possibly under commercial instructions. If a director starts by trying to be different and ends up treading the same beaten path, the disappointment is magnified.

 

There are too many cliches in the film. There are too many dialogues we have heard umpteen times in theatre and films. There are too many situations and symbols which are familiar. How much can you rely on the treatment of a film unless there is a meaty story to back it up? How much surprise can a camera and clever editing generate? How can you grapple with scenes, and make up and accents which are as unreal in a film which by its title and situation is trying to portray reality?

Abhisekh seems to have stepped out of his ad films. Sonam is a surprise and promising---but not outstanding. The support characters are a galaxy of the best in India. Rishi Kapoor, Prem Chopra,Waheeda Rehman, Tanvi Azmi, Supriya Pathak,Atul Kulkarni, Vijay Raaz have all done what they were supposed to do with efficiency and ease--but lacked time and space in the story to do any better.

A.R.Rahaman's music is good, but is wasted in the situations that they are placed, except the Mashakali and Dil Gira song. Yes, the New York--Delhi mixed visualisation  was a wonderfully aesthetic creation. I have a sneaking suspicion , that if he had the time, he would have probably changed certain aspects of the music and picturisation.

Both these songs are unique. One for its free style (sung by Mohit Chauhan) and the  Arabian  percussion, and the other for the voice of film singing debutant Ash King, the new star.

Masakali.mp3

Delhi 6  finally remains a stageplay which was filmed and exhibited in cinema halls. Its ultimate tragedy is that it tried but failed to become good cinema. Next time around ROM, stick to a simple gripping storyline, get a single scriptwriter,use a not so famous song composer, and say hell to commercial considerations and make a film..... Good films will generate money by themselves--but of course, you know that.. Please do not sermonise or pontificate. We, ordinary viewers are more intelligent than you think.

Dil Gira Dafatan.m...

Its worth a look--but not and never, a relook...

Slumdog Millionaire

The most difficult part of viewing this is separating the hype from the actual film. Every moment, you seem to be comparing what is actually happening on the screen with the numerous comments, interviews, prizes , awards and of course, THE Oscar nominations!!!

The film is being overshadowed by its publicity. The simple modern fairytale of a slumdweller and chaiwallah answering question after question on a televised quiz show and winning millions is cliched. Jamal Malik (the hero had to be a Muslim to show his backwardness) is played by Dev Patel who is as sophisticated as you can get with a Pom accent. He is a fine actor, but his casting was neither realistic nor appropriate.

Every question that he answers are somehow related to his past slum life. This is fine for the first few questions, but later becomes predictable and then extremely boring and contrived. The director had to bring in episodes like a boy Jamal, wading through a mound of shit (yes, shit!!!) to get an autograph of Amitabh Bacchan. While it brings on some horrified giggles and "Chee!! How dirty,,," incredulous exclamations, one cannot help thinking as to how this was a relook at the indomitable spirit of a rising India (the words of some of the self proclaimed, band wagon hoppers and publicists  )....

Worse was yet to come. The most significant actor in Hindi films nowadays is Irfan Khan. He was forced into a role of a policeman, not investigating a murder or robbery, but one who was curious to know how Jamal knew the answers in spite of his limited upbringing. To get this, he actually electrocutes the teenager and with Saurav Shukla(his sidekick), hits him repeatedly in a brutal torture. Irfan shows his total apathy for the role, and seems to heave a sigh of relief at the conclusion. It is really difficult to see an intelligent actor like him going anywhere near this role for bucks. He must have been paid in superbucks--but he will not recommend this film a few years down the line. He might ,just decide to hide his role....

The screenplay now follows Charles Dickens    ( British writers still suffer from this hangover, specially when writing about children). A convenient villain(Maman) surfaces who maims and blinds children so that they can beg and bring him money.Thank god, they did not bring in a single elephant or a snake charmer!!! The Western view of India has really gone a teeny weeny step forward!!!!

In between comes an elder brother Salim with a burn in his willy due to hot chillies. It is amazing how the slumdogs pick up the English language, and what is purported to be the mannerisms of a gangster (a la a thousand Hindi films..)

He takes the girl Jamal loves as his own, and subsequently transfers her to his boss (Mahesh Manjrekar). Jamal however keeps on looking for her and wants to run away with her (as in countless Hindi, Bengali, Tamil, Telegu etc. etc. ad nauseum). Freida Pinto is fresh and expressive but hey, we have seen all this many times.

The gangsters intervene, blood flows, brother dies covered in Indian banknotes (like a B grade Bollywood movie)--at which point I thought Danny Boyle had lost the purpose of the film. But he did give scope to Anil Kapoor. This man's English pronunciation is deplorable, but he did manage to convey the slyness and ego of the Host. One of the film's finest twists was when Anil Kapoor fed Jamal the wrong answer in the bathroom, but Jamal, in true survivor mode, rejected the answer and honed in on the correct one by elimination.

The film is salvaged only by some outstanding acting by the slum kids, cinematography(Anthony Dod Mantle) and music. A.R.Rahaman has done far superior work in at least half a dozen films.However, this time he had the backing of a hyperactive, hyperventilating international marketing blitz. All credit to him and his prizes. Though ,one could not understand why a Western Classical music opera was needed to convey a sense of awe among the slumdogs. Maybe it was just an expression of musical superiority.

The Taj episode was hilarious, perhaps the only area that the film  speared its own expected majority viewers!!!!

But the ones who deserved the Oscars were the young Jamal and his Musketeers.(Ayush, Tanay, Azhar, Ashutosh, Rubina, Tanvi) Natural, uninhibited yet controlled and expressive---they created the best ethos of the film. Danny Boyle's success lay in these sections where his sensitivity took the upper hand. Unfortunately, his vision of creating a spoof of the Mumbai-as perceived-by West, took over and it was downhill the rest of the time.

The Editing was fast and frenetic, as if the Director was breathing down his neck and mumbling--"Go, Go GO... Otherwise the film is a goner!!!!"

Resul Pookutty (Sound mixer)and Glenn Fremantle. the Sound designer did a great job, blending street noises, dialogues and distance dialogues splendidly.

Finally, there is the traditional happy ending and dance in the Mumbai station and the distribution of invisible "Feel Good" lollipops all around.They call it the "Feel Good Movie of the Decade". I did not. I was feeling lousy because I was calculating how many great films could have been made with this money.

This film swept the BAFTAS?? It seems that recession has set in very severely on the Brits, so much so that it has destroyed their only redeeming feature--a sense of balance.

This film winning the Oscar? What a sacrilege!!! Rudderless, divorced most of the time from reality, predictable ,and messageless-- it evaporates like spirit exposed to air, quickly and without a residue.....

SlumDog Jai Ho.mp3

Sid--Fundamental 2

Afternoon saw the performances by the staff, prizes to SUPERB for each year, a refreshingly different 3rd year fairy story, a freewheeling 4th year on a farewell jig and a final medley by EVERYONE.

There was  the traditional changing of the guards, as the present core team handed over their badges to the new members.

Then in a fit of spontaneity, everyone got up on stage and twirled away!!!!

In between, there were the dance performances....

Under the evening stars, it was time for Swaratma. A Bangalore based band, its forte was Indian rock, where they delightfully blended violin and a dholak with traditional guitars and drums with raw and earthy Hindi/ deshwali lyrics. After a long tuning in process, they had everyone up on their feet in the amphitheatre.Their hit songs--Jaana kahan hai mujhe " and "Pyaasi" had the crowd joining in. Their strains lasted well after their performance was over.

All in all my hours flew by, like moving images through a car window.I realised how diffidence had hounded us, shyness had strung cobwebs between our fingers, and hesitation had let golden dreams go by like a silent breeze. Young people now are more open, frank, honest and confident. There is a rhythm in their steps, a firmness in their beliefs. Gibran was so right. They come from you ---but they are not you...

That is the way it is.......That is the way it should be......

Listen to this unusual Korean band whose music is unique, not of any genre, yet of every type--this is called Flower Children...

Flower Children.mp...

Fundamental 2009

It has been decades since I  attended a college festival.When we started AESCULAPIA at Medical College Kolkata in 1976, there were only a few such festivals around. Occasionally, I could see milling crowds of youngsters, sounds of music, banners, posters around the colleges. Sometimes, I even judged a few events. So, it was a new experience for me when I arrived in Pune for the last two days as a pure and simple viewer.

I had seen the wonderful website, and the opening animation bowled me over. I was really eager to see how the elephant would roll!!!

And it did, creating drama, passion, tension, smiles, whoops and laughter...

I missed the dance competition, but spent time looking at the exhibits. For a layperson, it was a wonderful lesson. The methodology of creation was new to me. Scientific creation, I could comprehend. There are laws and interpretation, experiments and derivatives, rules and exceptions.But that was in the laboratory, mathematical and engineering formulae,physiology and anatomy and pathology. We have dissected the brain, and the nerves and the interconnections---but I have never seen how one can derive science from vision and colour and placement and proportion. It should have been the other way around. Instead, ideas and concepts and thoughts have been transcreated into a viable scientific formula.

I wandered out into the amphitheatre where the western music bands were vying for a prize. There was some splendid music, a bit staccato in parts, but a lot of skill and talent.

There was the occasional splendid guitar riffs, a memorable vocalist, classical drumming and an atmosphere made memorable by the rotating ,floating Fundamental logo on the brick walls of the buildings, under a moonlit sky ...

Next day, I attended the official ceremony in the auditorium, where Padmashri Sri S.B. Mujumdar after inauguratingthe proceedings, announced that SID had achieved the highest NAAC grade i.e. A. (NAAC has under its new criteria come up with CGPA score for institutions. )

Cumulative Letter Performance
Grade Point Grade Descriptor Interpretation of the Descriptor
Average(Range)
3.01 - 4.00 A Very Good High level of academic accomplishment
(Accredited) as expected of an institution
2.01 - 3.00 B Good Level of academic accomplishment above
(Accredited) the minimum level expected of an
institution
1.51 - 2.00 C Satisfactory Minimum level of academic
(Accredited) accomplishment expected of an
institution
< 1.50 D Unsatisfactory Level of academic accomplishment
(Not below the minimum level expected of an
Accredited) institution.
Note:
1. To declare an institution accredited as “Very Good”, the
institution should have a minimum CGPA of 3.01, and fall
in the CGPA range of 3.01-4.00;
2. To declare an institution accredited as “Good”, the institution
should have a minimum CGPA of 2.01, and fall in the CGPA
range of 2.01-3.00;
3. To declare an institution accredited as “Satisfactory”, the
institution should have a minimum CGPA of 1.51 and fall in
the CGPA range of 1.51-2.00;
4. Any institution that secures a CGPA of < 1.50 shall not be
accredited .

Following this there was a classical ,brief(COMPRESSED!!!) classical dance recital of the traditional Shakuntala story, set interestingly to western classical music.

This was followed by the Prize distribution ceremony, in which SID bagged most of the prizes.

All of this was made possible by the core team --and congratulations to them.

Tomorrow ,I will post more about the rest of the events and some exciting videos....